like a wanker sometimes.”
Track Twelve: “Break out of prison.”
Track Fifteen: “Violate a corpse.”
Track Eighteen: “Find Ree-Land.”
Track Nineteen: “Say ‘fuck’ and variations thereof… a lot.”
Track Twenty-One: “Drink more booze.”
Track Twenty-Two: “You love Mary Sinthasomphone.”
Track Twenty-Five: “Make self referential jokes.”
Track Twenty-Seven: “Dance in a circle dressed as a Smurf.”
Track Twenty-Eight: “Read more Hernandez-Prize.”
Track Twenty-Nine: “You think you’re in a sci-fi TV show.”
Track Thirty: “Ben Lee is a musical genius.”
Each track ran in an eternal loop, running in multiple reel-to-reel tape decks concealed in the walls.
The body tried to slide the only red button that controlled Track Sixteen. It exerted all of its energy into moving the button but it wouldn’t budge. The body stepped back and looked at the panel that lead from the desk to the floor. Aligned with the red button was a ribbed socket. The body could barely see the complicated series of intertwining chrome parts at the back of the socket. J’s body decided that the best thing to do was to unzip and insert its penis into the socket. He thrust slowly at first, moving the red button a smidgen. It could barely hear what was being said. The black pies rotated a little faster. He started thrusting madly away at the socket, moving the button a little further up its rut. The volume rose. The pies moved in a blur. The body leaned back with its lights closed.
Track Sixteen: “You will be involved with the Bowel Tactics Commission, the Bolivian Goat Army and the