They started pumping in artificial energy moments after 2 pm. Elon was on the door, talking to a regular like they were old friends. Maybe they were. I didn’t know Elon outside of work. I didn’t know any of the regulars or anyone who’d I’d seen cross the threshold over the past four years. I didn’t think any of us knew any of them. It doesn’t make sense that we would. People like us couldn’t afford to come here. People who work here wouldn’t come after seeing what took place inside.
Today they used sound to fill the space. High tones that barely scraped the upper range of human hearing. Low tones in complementary timbre pulled out the taste of the energy so that when it hit the patrons they felt it hard enough to stay, and if we were lucky, come back the next day. I prefer when they use smells. There’s an old science rumor that smells stay in the memory longer. They latch on to your brain the way the smell of curry latches on to your walls. If I was in charge it would be smells every day. I’m not in charge. I’m just the one they call to clean up.
Some Thoughts:
- No idea where I was going with this… Needed a freewrite though.