“Doc, are you trying to tell me that you built a time machine…out of a DeLorean?!?”

“Marty, I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t think I have my meds properly balanced yet.”

“Heavy.”

“Precisely.”

For the people who are still alive!

Onward, men! Full sails to the horizon! On my oath, we’ll make it to Ikeland by morning!

Oh, there will be Ikes as far as the eye can see, I tell you! Tall Ikes, short Ikes, God-fearing Ikes! Our coffers will overflow with the abundance of Ikes!

You who would doubt me, who would claim the impossibility of such a paradise, you cowards who hide from ambition and surround yourselves with the petty offerings of Steve Island or David Cove, why you would not know how to handle the Ikes of Ikeland!

But I am a man of greater mettle, and I will know this new land.

Raise the anchor. The Ikes await.

My dumb nerd brain autocorrected that to Jean Grey and was very confused and curious for a hot second.

…ah-tah?

“Sweet deal.”

Yeah, kinda hard to ignore those themes in a game whose antagonist is a deliberate gender-swap of Ayn Rand.

Have you seen what’s down there? It’s terrifying.

You don’t have to tell me. Deep down at the bottom of the ocean? The whole place is crawling with…capitalists.

Yeah, yeah. I know. Andrew Ryan gave us all the big, shiny speech, “sweat of your brow” and all that, but what’s he got down there now? Just a buncha junkies and opportunists running guns and peeling off all of that pretty art deco veneer.

Thanks but no thanks, Ryan.

The near-blinding kaleidoscope of lights and color faded to blackness as my virtual reality headset powered down. Pulling the headset away, I yawned and blinked, my eyes adjusting to the LED lighting that bathed my gaming space in neon. I fumbled to turn off the lights. Many colleagues of mine had taken to configuring such devices with voice recognition and control, but truthfully, I was too uneasy to do so myself, fearing who might be listening on the other end.

I checked the device in my pocket for the current time. Damn. Later than I hoped.

I walked sluggishly away to bed, punching buttons on the slab in my hand until alarms were set, calendars were reviewed, and quiet again took the space.

Hell yeah. I also somehow ended up with the voice distortion model and it was the best.

37?!?!?

glances into mirror

Oh.

Right.

…Shit.

The microwave at the Future Gadgets Lab is about to experience one hell of an upgrade.

CUT MY CAKE INTO PIECES! THIS IS MY PLASTIC FORK!

Dude, c’mon guys…

Can we not immediately sexually objectify any woman who happens to appear in an online photograph or video?

I thought we left that kind of gross, adolescent shit back on Reddit.

Hakuna oblongata.

Siiiiigh…yeah…

I like to think that the glasses just materialize whenever a human fully achieves therapist mode.