The main character is calm. Perhaps
you’ve been following (me), which means
I should maybe put a spoiler alert warning?
Spoilers. They don’t exist any more here,
presumably. At least in most generic cases.
The train snakes through the once overpopulated
desert terrain. They’re playing croquet with lesbian
undertones before they head to a diner that looks a
lot like the one from Paradise. The mind wants to know
what the writer is feeling, and she tells the mind that she
used to have long yellow legal pads that she stole from her
office job. I’ve made myself breakfast but I don’t feel like
eating it. Is it the barebecue flavor? I never lked barbecue.
Especially sweet barbecue. And it’s messy. “You’re going to
have a visitor,” says the mind, after reminiscing for the first
time from when she was an individual. as not part of the hive mind.
Then there’s my breakfast. I am getting an upset My stomach from
the sickly sweet smell of the barbecue. And me from the south,
too. The show is over. She’s going to get a visitor. It’s become
quite the suspenseful motivation to keep watching the show,
among all the other wonderful things I could tell you about it,
that makes it an incredibly fresh show. This, of course, is an
opinion, and I begin to wonder what being an actual television
critic might be like. My stomach sours thinking about the show.
Because they eat each other. They eat people. This has become
a pretty significant plot point. They don’t kill the people they eat.
The will starve in a determinedly rather short period of time (not
climate change). But they sustain, among utilizing other ways,
perhaps, by eating other people. People who died. There is always
death and there is always living. Oh, I could tell you so much more,
but I’ve definitely lost my appetite for my breakfast. Who east barbecue
for breakfast? And these new humans, if that’s what they are, eat people.
