Future Digital Wasteland

The desert wind howled like a banshee on a bender, clawing at the windows of my shack as I sat hunched over a lukewarm can of chili. The fluorescent hum of the cheap motel room buzzed in my skull like a trapped hornet, a fitting soundtrack to the unraveling reality I was currently grappling with.

It started innocently enough, a simple trip to the fluorescent lit abyss they call Walmart for supplies, you know, the essentials: caffeine pills, industrial sized bags of jerky, and enough bargain bin sunscreen to fend off the impending apocalypse. But then, the receipt.

Not the usual mile long scroll detailing my descent into consumer depravity, no. This one…this one had my face plastered on it, a grainy, unsettling image superimposed over the fine print, leering back at me like some kind of discount Orwellian nightmare. Big Brother, apparently, shops at rollback prices and pays with a smile… or at least, a digitally altered facsimile thereof. The bastards.