chaosorc

There's a scintillating video game lobby where they congregate, trading phrases and inside jokes. when the lobbysong ends the doors open and they pour into the clubroom as disc jockeys are introduced. they have equally symbolic and inside names.

video game characters dance with wireframe movements copied and pasted into this wriggling mass as pixls overlap. the dancers either moving in unison as they are cued to perform specific ones by the dj. those that cannot afford to dance are running to and fro, leaping around and through the crowd, not following any real rhythm but anxious for the next part.

as the beat builds there is a speed buff. when it drops it is timed so that the buff expires, everyone seems to slow as toilets white spinning, some slightly grimy, they rise from the floor on the stage. a single massive toilet in the center behind the turntables and dj. it opens and a squirming head emerges on a long stretched neck and struggles whirling around, sinister face at first anguished and then suddenly its eyes set up on the crowd as the smaller toilets on stage burst open and smaller heads on long necks repeat this performance in unison. the central head now looks angry and its mouth opens wide and the music speeds suddenly. the dj and stage dancers leap, the crowd breaks and runs in a panic but not to leave the dance hall but to create a new chaotic scene where the dancers join the non-dancers, anxious for the next part.

that massive head stares forward and its lips now squirm and chatter violently, video game quick, and soundbytes from the online personality it is supposed to represent begin to play, most sped up or slowed so they are barely legible but the crowd knows the next part is about to begin.

the song stops and the slow dirge of this old time anthem builds. on either side of each toilet a line appears and twists sideways revealing a two-dimensional being that has a black camera for a head, they wear black and white suits and driving gloves, their camera eye surveys a different part of the club, assigned and coordinated, they all discover their assigned toilet, raise an arm to call it in to the black walkies pulled from coat pockets simultaneous as though in one motion they slam the toilet lids closed pushing the internet talking head effigies back into the sewer where they belong. a wall falls away and a bright outdoor area awaits, the first person shooter game has begun.

he ordered the toilet tablets and scrub brush cleansers and chemicals with his parents home assistant puck. when it arrived he had tracked it from school and snuck out early scampering through the muggy forest to get home in time to pull it off the porch and into the bathroom before his parents got home from work.

bleach smell filling the house. he explained, a blue toilet is the only to stop it from getting in and killing us all.