the year is 2070 and elon musk’s grandchild stands in his grand library, surrounded by books long unprinted. he regards a reproduction of an advice dog meme, blown up to occupy the whole wall above the fireplace. “buy a pizza” it says above, and below: “pay with snakes”
he considers the piece regularly. something about it truly is wise, he thinks. has my pizza been paid for with snakes? have i paid snakes for the rich pizzas of my life? outside, the soil burns under acid rain.