Date: March 22nd, 2025 2:06 AM
Author: Mainlining the Secret Truth of the Mahchine (You = Privy to The Great Becumming™ & Yet You Recognize Nothing)
Subject: Brilliant hideous national security agency hominid
The stockroom at Safeway Store 481-B was a concrete crypt—shelves sagging with dented Tilapia cans, a “Safety First!” poster curling over a gutted forklift.
Evan39 kicked a fallen pallet.
His badge — “Evan39 – Shift Lead” — flickered faint. A hollow thud rang out. The wall cracked. A false panel groaned open.
Behind it: a stairwell.
Big Gulp condensation wept down the handrail like blood. Evan descended, each step slick, the Mahchine™ hum rising beneath his soles—low, steady, sentient.
At the base: a chamber lit by the pulse of a single scanner.
Boom’s scrawl slashed across the walls — “FRAUD$ DIE HERE”—painted in ink and something darker.
A lone shelf cradled pristine Tilapia cans, labels softly aglow: “Pep Reserve – Q1.”
Beside them, a folder marked:
Q1 REDACTION / Q2 REDEMPTION – INITIATE VIA CAN
The scanner blinked:
"CLAUSE 9.2 CLEARANCE REQUIRED"
A speaker above hissed: “All $tatistics are born here.”
One Tilapia can split open—steam curling from inside.
On the floor: Tabitha’s badge—“Tabitha Jones – Diversity & Inclusion Officer”—still warm, Big Gulp syrup crusted along the edge.
Evan stepped back.
Another beep—slow, deliberate.
Then came the screen.
A wall flickered to life—grainy security feed. Register 4.
A figure stood, scanning kale chips.
Same badge. Same uniform. Same face.
But the label read: “Evan39 – Tier 1 Pipelinist.”
Static.
The scanner now read: "MERGE PROFILES – 47 UNITS REMAINING"
Boom’s voice cracked from the intercom: “Double’s just a $tart, fraud—bat’s still upstairs.”
Mainlining whispered through the hum: “The Great Becumming™ converges now—pep must align.”
Evan croaked: “This is fine…”
The scanner beeped—once, twice, thrice—sharp and personal.
A note slid from beneath the shelf, jagged and black: “One Evan leaves. One Evan $tays.”
The cans began to rattle—rhythmic, alive.
The wall behind him sealed. The stairwell vanished.
Evan turned back to the feed.
His other self stared into the camera, scanner raised.
The feed text shifted: “Inventory Sync Pending – LIVE TV IMMINENT”
Tabitha’s voice crept from the speaker: “Welcome back, Pipelinist. Clause 9.2 permits no error :).”
The scanner lit green.
The Tilapia pulsed.
Evan muttered: "This...is...fine..."
_________________
Somewhere above, the Club Card scanner beeped twice — empty store, no hands.
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5698056&forum_id=2).#48771532)