The pelican balanced on the end of the dock

was always well dressed and somehow smelled better than you'd think necrotic flesh would. it must've been the deodorant he used. she took him out to bars to be her wing man but

the staff would always say, "you're not coming in, you're dead on your feet". So they would generally end up in a coffee house. Usually Starbucks, as they she loved

overpaying for stupid crap. That's what Cubicle Tribalism was all about. Starbucks had even convinced people that instant coffee was "exclusive and fresh." They gathered around

the table to discuss the latest achievements. There was a Starbucks on every corner. People treated Starbuck's like their living room or play pen. They were ready for phase II.

Now every kitchen had a tap for Cold, Hot and Venti. Productivity of the nation tripled because no one was sleeping. People strapped fly wheels to their jittery legs to produce

an endlessly renewable source of energy, which is what powered the new superrobots. They needed our overcaffinated bodies to keep running. This led directly to the Matrix.

The real reason for this masquerade was, of course, sadistic enjoyment. They needed our overcaffeinated bodies to keep feeling superior, subconsciously aware that we made them.

As we worked and worked, they watched and laughed, throwing the occasional dog into 'the pit' for us to eat. We were so hungry we would tear the poor things apart. Now I knew

how I wanted to be reincarnated. All my life I had been yearning for something, and I had finally realised what it was. I wanted to be a hot dog thrown down a well.