Jane: Get huntin’.

Well, not enough to let the jackass you’ve spent the last three days hiking through the snow trying to kill get away with his presumably detailed and convoluted plans to make things fall apart, anyway.

He keeps leaving these physical tapes on the ground for you to find containing minutes long diatribes on how cool he is. His reasons read like he interpreted the Geneva Conventions as a bucket list. A confused mix of sarcastic digs and sincere attempts to get you to understand his side bookends each one. The audio quality is surprisingly good given that he’s running for his life in the woods, and he clearly cares about making the writing engaging and the delivery impactful. You’re sure all this effort on your behalf would be strangely endearing if he wasn’t a real person that existed in the same reality as you. 

Like if all he did was write microfiction on twitter, and your waking hours were not entirely consumed by being the sole sheriff of several dozen simulated universes, and you had twitter, you’d follow that. 

You don’t know where he’s getting these cassettes, or why anyone who lives in 2850 would even have them. 

This last fact is what makes you want to kill him most of all.

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