You walk down the cold wintry streets of New New York, looking for a suicide booth.
The denomination mortgaging tax was just raised again, and your apart-a-house’s lease was over in negative ten minutes.
Life is a fiery furnace of derelict loans..with smog on top. Wondrous.

Not paying attention to where you’re going, you run head first into something very solid; with blackness etching in around the corners of your vision, the last thing you see is icy blue eyes set in a marble smooth face with a mocking smile.
O.o
You awake in a chilly and dimly-lit room. “Did you enjoy your slumber?” you hear a smooth voice, smooth like marble, say.
Great, you thought, I’m still not dead. You feel a light pressure on your upper leg and look down to see a super computer known as a SEMbot, one of the newer models, resting a micro-perfected hand on one of the straps holding you down. Wait, Straps?!

“Simulated Entertainment Machine bot, unbind me!” you command.
The SEMbot’s gaze drifts up to your face, “Not likely.” he smirks.