slave boss was stagnating in his hyper prison, an old nub of a cigar in house mouth *his mouth
his eyes were somewhat wide. he was dehydrated.
he watched a small insect crawl by a leg of a stool and across the floor
his eyes watched it move. the rest of his body was motionless.
slave boss was physically experiencing pain—
slave boss’s dissociated and mind-numbingly bored waking sleep eventually resonated with patterns in the hyperprison walls that were used to acting for the experimentees that had escaped their lab. parts of the wall came out and briefly began filling the emptiness with role plays of slave boss’s mind activity.
traffick boss avatar [small-power-suit like, flickering a little, coming out of the hyper prison wall substrate]: “dictator, get me my sofa clown.” ibid
dictator of dictatortopia looked at the avatar, and the motionless figure of traffick boss to the side
traffick boss avatar: “my couch, dictator! on my desk right this instant!”
wealthy investor and wealthy investor’s helper brought the stool and propped traffick boss against it in such a manner that sores on his body were separated from the hyperprison floor
traffick boss avatar: “thank you. the things k have to do to get help aroun— *things i have to do