“Evil hides in a darling disguise.”

We all learned that mantra to be true. The Japanese had flooded our airwaves and toy stores with the cloyingly cute Kuchiwon, fluffy characters we thought to be mostly harmless. We’d already lived through the Pokemon, Hello Kitty, and Dijimon phenomena after all.

The Kuchiwon were different. One night, they suddenly came to life and started killing everyone in a most brutal manner.

The more involved the enterprise, the more bustling and productive society becomes, the greater the emptiness.

Activity creates a void.

There is an inherent meaninglessness in fabrication. The greater the heights of the accomplishments–both metaphorically and literally, if one was talking about the mammoth skyscraping towers–the more devoid of meaning they become.

Even religion has become transparent in its vacancy. Enforced attendance and ritualistic devotion do not make for fulfillment. It just seems something fundamental is missing. It’s like memorizing a list of vocabulary without understanding what the words mean.

I knew the effects of my last dose, taken by syringe early that morning, had begun to wear off. The implications of what we were about to do had begun weighing on me again.

F-ward housed the dopamine embeds, the featureless slugs of DNA and tissue that were supposed to output enough golden eggs to inhibit the entire district. I scrambled through the remains, but there was not a single usable drop remaining. Security had ransacked the place.