The main character is calm. Perhaps
you’ve been following (me), which means
I should maybe put in 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. Now 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 liked barbecue.
Especially sweet barbecue. And it’s messy. “You’re going to
have a visitor,” says the mind, after reminiscing for the first
time about when she was an individual and not part of the hive mind.
Then there’s my breakfast. I am getting an upset 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 so I keep watching it each week,
among all the other wonderful things I could tell you about it,
all of which make 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 that.
Because they eat each other? They eat people. This has become
a pretty significant plot point. Oh, they don’t kill the people they eat.
And they will starve in a determinedly short period of time (not via
climate change). But they sustain for now, among utilizing other
ways, perhaps. By eating other people. People who have died. There is
always death and there is always living. Oh, I could tell you so much more,
