What the fuck are you doing?

I can't help myself.

Do you think . . . why are you writing that? Do you think you're . . .

It's just a story.

Your face. It's so pale. Here, let me . . . Your skin: it's like ice.

I was a little worked up.

But why is it in that style. It worries me.

You don't think I should write it?

No. It's not good for the brain.

You're right. The brain is quite sensitive.

Yes. I can tell . . .

And there were . . . dots . . . skulls wired with microchips . . . robots that were nothing but eyes, eyes, eyes.

A globe made of nothing but eyes . . . and a globe that was a giant eye, Earth a giant eye . . .