We see through the eyes of the villagers, feel their sentiments,
control their actions.
The pharmacist’s daughter,
straining over a chemistry text, hoping for a scholarship:
we see it all inside her.
And we feel the aging mayor’s lust
as he spies on her from his office
across the way, through his blinds.
In other villages, we ended things by inducing blood orgies,
sweeping arson, catastrophic
collapses.
But such climaxes left us wanting.
Instead, we’ve decided to weave a beneficial
outcome for this village.
Searching through the details of their lives stored in their skulls,
we
puzzled over how to help them.
We finally chose to freeze them in an eternal loop of placidity:
the pharmacist’s daughter forever hoping, forever lusted after.
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