![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
So, my new roommate has no furniture in his room. He sleeps on a blanket and eats from a single wooden bowl.
Instead, his room is dominated by a weird towering machine. There's a place where you can stand, in the middle. There're a lot of magnets, and tiny tubes. Little red ladybugs crawl through the tubes, in detailed patterns. The whole thing smells like jasmine, and cheap synthetic diamonds line the top of the machine.
He showed me how it works today. You stand in the middle and wait about ten minutes. But what does it do?
"It reorients you. It can turn you from a dog-lover to a cat-lover, or vice versa."
He pays rent by letting people use it. Mostly mismatched newlyweds.
"But I like both," I protested, "What happens if I step inside?"
"Don't."
Instead, his room is dominated by a weird towering machine. There's a place where you can stand, in the middle. There're a lot of magnets, and tiny tubes. Little red ladybugs crawl through the tubes, in detailed patterns. The whole thing smells like jasmine, and cheap synthetic diamonds line the top of the machine.
He showed me how it works today. You stand in the middle and wait about ten minutes. But what does it do?
"It reorients you. It can turn you from a dog-lover to a cat-lover, or vice versa."
He pays rent by letting people use it. Mostly mismatched newlyweds.
"But I like both," I protested, "What happens if I step inside?"
"Don't."
