Jack stared at his hypnochrist adoringly. It spun and spun in his vision. He had the warmest feelings when he looked it in the eyes. He knew he’d always be safe with it.
“Ever fallen in love with someone (you shouldn’t have fallen in love with)?” by the Buzzcocks blared in the living room. Blackie danced to it like a snake. Her body shimmered in the shadows.
Junk was watching television on his electrothrone. Murderland was playing a marathon. People paid to kill androids there, buy daily. Whoever killed the most was the winner and became a millionaire.
Another channel had topless chicks wearing leather masks. They were advertising Chanel perfume. They slapped each other’s asses with crops. An Aztec calendar spun above them. Numbers were counting down, time was running out to call and order.