CHAMBER A barren room with textured, off-white wallpaper holds a black sensory deprivation tank, sleeping quarters that hew more closely to a mausoleum. Who's inside? The outside of the device is coated with flashing screens cycling through a dynamic assortment of imagery, replicating the chaos of a social media newsfeed: bathing suit thirst traps, overly-composed lunch photos, war crime footage, ads for every imaginable product, and digital detritus like glitching links, disembodied thumbs, and floating hearts. This semiotic sensory nightmare is scored by thick droning noise. CHAPEL Darkness recedes to the edges of a small pentagonal shrine, the perimeter delineated by prayer candles of a distinctly commercial variety. In the center sits Iris, goth attire, shock of vibrant ginger hair draped over her shoulders, intertwined with glowing green vials of toxic waste. Spread around her are an eclectic mix of esoteric spell-books and tabloid magazines. Her eyes are closed i...
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