PSA

You should have listened to the PSA. I did. That's why I'm still here, behind you. But you're not. Not there. Not in your shell. 

You should have listened. It meant you no harm. Nor did I. But the other thing...

PSA stands for public service announcement. And that was also a PSA. 

Usually, you should listen to these things. They're not all that frequent, and usually they're about something you need to be proactive about like boiling water.

Of course, this PSA is not about boiling water. 

"Eww, that sounds disgusting."

That's what you said. I heard you. I'm in the room with you right now. No, don't turn around. That will ruin the surprise.

You know, it's their favorite thing. They like to do that. Sometimes it means nothing. Sometimes it means everything. 

Our economy is overly abstracted. Let's be honest. The value of the stock market does not correspond with the health of the economy in as direct a relationship as we are taught to believe. Healthy industries can be wiped out by really, really stupid nonsense that sparks a panic. And then we all suffer.

Very nice system we got here. Very cool.

At least our stock markets are tagged to actual industries and companies, though. Not so much  the case here. 

There is nothing more maddening than the burden of the clock. It has given us order and stability, but where has our rights over our own time gone? 

We know where they went. To the same place everything we had went. To the same god.

It's quite an accomplished sandwich. Or series of sandwiches. Either way, you never expected that much from them, so it's just really nice that they were able to get this far and do so much. 

The natural character progression of any sandwich when it is lost. 

I have always detested the idea of hell. I know, I know. Who wouldn't? It is supposed to be despicable. But we see it weaponized here, up above. You must be a certain way or you are damned. But how clearly is that 'certain way' tied to morality, and not just giving yourself the branding of a creed? 

It's obvious. The people who talk about hell as a punishment in our world care more deeply about the victory of their identity than anything. Their master is cruel and cold, colder even than the demons in my stories.

We've all been there. It really stinks to lose something as simple as your lunch. It's terrible. Horrible. Someone must pay. 

We learned how to care for them. Now we traverse the grooves on the thin side of the coin to get to the other side. I know, I know. We all want to be on the side where oracles are real, and they can make your ridiculous dreams come true. 

We are here to bury gods. Sometimes those gods die in dreams. 

I know. The question's been bugging you. How do you cook a limoset? Well, I'll tell ya. The Pantheon's now infringing on the recipe market.