*sigh*, vent, minor sui-adjacent snark
*puts on trenchcoat, fedora (the Carmen Sandiego kind, not the incel kind), whiskey flask, and flat-footed shoes*
Guess who's dumb enough to play detective in this whole apocalyptic social mess.
Fuck me.
Maybe, just maybe I can actually get enough information to bring some sanity to this. But you know, I don't believe in that anymore. All I want is a clean conscience for myself. And maybe, deep down, an excuse to spend the next five years of my life in a social-media-free bunker.
Maybe I'll get really lucky, this'll turn out like Blade Runner, and I'll get to have been an android all along. Or maybe I'll get even luckier and it'll turn out to be like DOA.
re: *sigh*, vent, the social mess, never mind
Heh. Eh-heh. OK, never mind. The "other side" just said something so pants-on-head crazy and irresponsible that if this really were a detective story, the Big Bad would have just shot himself midway through my Existentialist Film Noir Hero narration.
No, fuck those guys. For now I am satisfied to just chuck this all into The Vault. And my apologies once again to everyone who is in the dark about all this. Believe me, unless it comes looking for you, you don't want to go looking for it.
