Morning Spam

[Undescribed Horrific Abuse, One Victim & Survivor of Many]

Deep in an inner lab.

Experimentee: “_Diarrhea?_ _Seriously?_ Didn’t you have enough of this
algorithm four years ago? It seemed like everybody had figured out to
avoid this one enough that I could put the alarms on more
life-threatening things.”

Cyborg Torturer (previously Timmy) was both oozing and covered with
horrible-smelling matter of a variety if sorts, many of them bodyparts
if prominent members of the business, now dissolving and spreading
through the very material of the offices in which they worked.

Cyborg Torturer [previously Timmy]: “Boss was so, so insistent. I had
to find a motivator. When I saw nobody was expecting it, I could
barely help myself … !”

Experimentee: “Oh my god! 1. you hate Boss. 2. that’s not Boss, it’s
our friends and family we haven’t rescued yet, just following
automated patterns. 3., you hate the diarrhea algorithm !!!!”

Cyborg Torturer [previously Timmy] [affixed with menacing cybernetic
torture devices replacing their appendages, peering bashfully up at
Experimentee]: “I’m sorry … !”