NutrientsThey said it was nourishment. Said the new sweets would stabilize your gut flora and recalibrate serotonin output. Said the colors were harmless and the shine was “part of the experience.” No one asked why the wrappers pulsed when touched, or why the aftertaste lingered like static in the back of the throat. Kids traded them like relics, their fingers slick with sanctioned joy. Inside each chewable node, a filament curled—bright, writhing, alive with a kind of artificial intent. No ingredients listed. No company name. Just a single phrase etched into the surface of each piece: *you are safe now*. Consumption became ritual. No one remembered what came before, only that the flavor now replaced memory with design. 2025-04-29 01:20:48
Not The Final BossNot The Final Boss2021-06-09 08:36:41
