I'm Starting to Worry About This Black Box of Doom

by Jason Pargin

As I was packing, I remembered I have to get my brain pills refilled and realized how ironic it is that they’re for my anxiety, but nothing gives me anxiety like the prospect of running out. Or maybe that’s not ironic—does anybody know what that word even means?

He felt a weight roll off him, the exquisite relief of canceled plans that extroverts will never know.

You know what a lot of retired feds get into? Alcoholism. It’s not just for the boys anymore. I went to Whole Foods the other day—they’ve replaced twenty percent of their floor space with shelves of mom wine. You should give it a shot. They call it a disease, but the sufferers seem to be having a great time.”

“It seems unlikely,” replied Ether. “I mean, what are the odds that we’d both be—” “That we’d both be serial killers. I knew you were going to say that.”

Cammy was on another of her endless string of exotic, weirdly punishing diets (this one didn’t allow wheat, or seed oils, or something), and so her half of the fridge was currently full of raw vegetables that, as far as Zeke could tell, robbed her soul of joy at a much greater rate than they made her body healthier.

Believe it or not, this is where Jedediah Smith stopped to rest his horses. The Mojave tribe had a village here, they helped him out.” “I’m sure they didn’t regret that decision.

If you think that, say, a cashier failing to wish you a Merry Christmas is a sign of impending Christian genocide, you’re probably not the type to hash out differences over brunch.

The human brain loves novelty and excitement and, well, what’s more novel than a weird lie somebody pulled straight out of their ass? And what’s more exciting than forbidden knowledge, defying the authorities to uncover what they tried to keep hidden?

“I don’t think I’ve relaxed once, in my whole life.”

“And there’s the anger. People hate it when you threaten their nihilism! That’s the black box, drawing you back in. Can’t you see that it wants you to be afraid to do anything but cower in front of your screens? It only has one trick, one card to play, which is this idea that bad news is the only news you can trust. I’m telling you, if you just allow yourself to step outside of it, you’ll see it for what it is: a prison where the walls are made of nightmares.”

“Well, in my defense, I am a huge dumbass.”

Feel free to drop by one of them and ask any questions you might have. I likely won’t answer them, but asking will be good for my engagement metrics.