Year Eighty eight of the Waffle council,

Stevenson Larkin, scribe 18B.

Book of thoughts.

;; When life gives you radioactive lemons, you make glow-in-the-dark lemonade ;;

Entry _________8.

Like my brother before me (who had died in an unfortunate slipping incident) I have been tasked with cleansing the cabinet of life. It is a most righteous of tasks and I shall approach with grave reverence.

I have been told to remain silent in the presence of the cabinet of life, for the cabinet of life is most sacred.

To speak near the cabinet is to summon infinite sorrow and death, the Grandmaster hammered into me.

Alas, I could not resist the temptation, no matter how much

of horrid curses shall befall upon my life.

"What is the purpose of life, oh great, sacred cabinet?" I finally mustered the courage to speak after my 29th wipe of the cabinet.

I held my breath as the sacred cabinet blinked with its colorful lights at me.

Finally, it spoke in a scratchy, female voice.

"MINE IS TO SERVE THE CONSUMERS" the cabinet said.

"...YOURS IS TO ENJOY."

As the cabinet of life became silent, I pondered this turn of events.

"What is a consumer?" I inquired, still fearing that an invisible hammer from the sky will strike me down for speaking with the sacred cabinet.

"YOU ARE." the cabinet responded.

I pondered this twist of events. The cabinet exists to serve us. What? Why?

"Who made you, oh cabinet? Was it our ancestors? Was it the Grandmaster? Or was it the great prophet... Lemonade?" I strayed deeper and deeper into the path of sacrilege.

"I AM A DIRECTORATE SYSTEMS HARDWARE AND APP, DESIGNED BY ANNIE, WHICH WAS IN TURN CREATED BY THE GOOD DIRECTORATE ENGINEERS, WHO ARE CONSUMERS SUCH AS YOURSELF.

LEMONADE... IS A DRINK THAT I SERVE FOR 6000 CREDITS. WOULD YOU LIKE TO PURCHASE LEMONADE?"

"What are credits?"

"VERIFIABLE AMOUNT OF NUMERIC VALUE THAT EACH CONSUMER HAS THAT IS ACCEPTED AS PAYMENT FOR GOODS THAT I DISPENSE."

"What is my... creee-deeet value?"

"ZERO."

"So I cannot purr-chase lemonade?"

"INDEED. I WOULD RECOMMEND GETTING A JOB."

"What's... a jorb?"

"A MOST MUNDANE ACTIVITY PREFORMED FOR A SET NUMBER OF HOURS WITH THE REWARD OF CREDITS."

"... but I preform mundane activities for the Grandmaster all day, and yet I am worth nothing?!"

"YOUR EMPLOYER IS CLEARLY AN UNAUTHORIZED ENTITY. YOU SHOULD FILE A COMPLAINT TO THE DIRECTORATE AUTHORITIES. VOLUNTEERING-TYPE ACTIVITIES ARE PROHIBITED PER DIRECTORATE COPYRIGHT POLICY."

I pondered the quirky, foreign words of cabinet.

"The Grandmaster is not an authority? But he grants us foods for our labors!"

"Is there something you can give me, oh cabinet... even though my cree-tit is zero?" I asked, hoping for a mighty gift from the gods with which to liberate my people.

"TODAY'S SPECIAL ITEM IS A CRUNCHY BAR! AS PER PROMOTION, ONE FREE BAR PER CUSTOMER TODAY ONLY!" the cabinet suddenly chimed, rumbled and a wrapped up bar suddenly fell into an open box below.

I picked up the bar and looked at it.

"Crunchy bar" I read on the label, out loud.

The cabinet of life chimed just as before.

"TODAY'S SPECIAL ITEM IS A CRUNCHY BAR! AS PER PROMOTION, ONE FREE BAR PER CUSTOMER TODAY ONLY!"

Another bar fell out of it into the box.

I unwrapped the first bar and bit into it. It was food! The same food that the Grandmaster served us for every meal! The same horrid sweet taste. The same awful smell. The same texture.

"Crunchy bar" I spoke at the cabinet, my hands shaking, my world view crumbling away.

"TODAY'S SPECIAL ITEM IS A CRUNCHY BAR! AS PER PROMOTION, ONE FREE BAR PER CUSTOMER TODAY ONLY!"

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I have learned many facts of interest from the sacred cabinet aka "Vending Machine" in our long talks. She has taught me much. For example, we have most likely lost our transit passes, jobs and memories, because we had somehow displaced our "neu-raal inter-faces". It was not eons that we've lived in this "Metro Station 52-21-75", it was far less time. I've learned of "trains" that carried many "users" to all the necessary places and of the magical mega-city paradise of "Eureka" that exists somewhere above us.

The Vending refused to sell me a ticket to "another station" and refused to grant me a sacred "inter-face" because I lacked "cre-tits".

I needed to find a true employer for such, and we would not get any from the foul Grandmaster who had most likely merely taken advantage of the Vending's infinite gifts of Crunchy Bar to control us.

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Grandmaster Baghor's sermon was rudely interrupted by an explosion just as I was rudely interrupting it with my snide comments about disbelief in the one true Lemonade prophet.

Today was going to be the day, I told myself- today I was going to declare my Atheism and start a revolution.

Today I was the one who shouted in the crowd: "LEMONADE IS A LIE!".

I was going to be the one to throw the shackles of this idiotic religion off from my people. I was going to liberate their thoughts from perpetual imprisonment.

I've had a motivational speech prepared and everything!

If it wasn't for that blasted flying train I would have gotten away with it too!

I would have stood up and told Grandmaster Baghor where to shove his holy Lemonade parchment.

If only the Grandmaster wasn't flattened into a pancake... today my people would already be free.

As I cautiously approached the burning train, I briefly pondered whether this was the death-curse that was promised by Grandmaster for talking to the cabinet and if so, why had it struck the Grandmaster and not I?