I made 3ish more of this on other threads in the list. They were made very near each other. One involved a peace pagoda. Another involved victims of extreme nonconsensual research visiting a cafe. Another involved Boss's tongue hanging out, with X's for eyes. The had tags attached regarding dangerousness, a controversial thing. I also posted some of my other drafts, not sure if it was in this thread or not. One of those involved a welcome sign to a utopic community that said "WE ARE MIND CONTROLLED AND NEED A BREAK". There were others. Here's some more. Near the idea of "spirit mercenary", which helps to refine the trope of advanced artificial intelligence, combat-for-pay, and spiritual fantasy, all of which overlap in the real world, continuously avoiding the concept of secret automated mind control, which there is no need to do. -- [draft] "America's Top Comedy": An ordinary person won the contest, and is going on on-stage to give their material. The studio is a public entertainment venue in a large city, with crowds waiting with baited breath. The biggest joke is the people who laugh at their own horrible jokes. The hopeful-jokestar steps up to the microphone, opens their mouth, and freezes. Nothing is said. Nobody is moving a muscle, and the cameras are rolling. A man walks up from the crowd and on to the stage. They have wires and microchips draped out of their opened skull and exposed brain, and one of their fore-arms and hands has been replaced by some strong device, affixed to infected flesh via open wounds. One of their eyes is covered by a mechanism of some sort with a light on it. Bool drips from them as they walk, pooling on the carpet and likely staining it, and then apparently disappearing somehow on its own. [the crowd see the bloodstains disappear because they have experienced automated hypnosis. the cameras record it disappearing because they have been hacked.] The cyborg walks up next to the budding comedian, and faces the crowd and the cameras: "This man is trying to tell you a joke about mind control." People in the crowd start moving just a little. The cyborg looks at the comedian, then back at the cameras and crowd. A whirring noise and motion comes from the device attached to his wounded arm. "It's my job to kill him before he does." Tension rises. A little motion at the emergency exit. "But I'd rather we tell a joke that results in people in the crowd taking a picture of me, and people in their homes watching this feed, archiving the video." A couple crowds of people get up, to go to the bathroom, squeezing their knees together, holding their crotches; others quickly grab and hold them and prevent them from leaving, and help them take their cellphones out. Some wet themselves. Some relax. Some do both. "The reason nobody is talking, or calling 911 about my wounds, is because I am a mind control cleanup worker." The man's injuries and hardware are all visible, but the pooled blood on the floor turns to clean carpet. "My whole life, I have been forced to cover up the crimes of wealthy and powerful criminals, and hide this." The comedian begins laughing wildly. Many in the crowd do, too. Some and also the comedian occasionally yell "please take a picture of him, the cameras don't work!" amidst bursts of forced laughter. Some hear this in their homes. The assassin walks up to the microphone and says loudly, "IT'S DISGUSTING THAT PEOPLE ARE FORCED TO LAUGH AT THIS SHIT AND PRETEND IT IS NORMAL. WE NEED URGENT MEDICAL ATTENTION AND RESEARCH." The cameras and lights blip off. At home, people's devices report internet connectivity failure. The assassin's voice echoes in the darkness, coming out of people's offline devices. "I can protect people who can protect me. And researchers and rescue workers who can work on and talk about this shit."