The Vulgar are Luminous: Chapter One.

The Vulgar are Luminous: Chapter One.

'Do you have impending feelings of Doom?

Does it feel like tomorrow will never come?

Are you feeling hopeless or depressed about the Future?

If you answered 'yes' to any of these questions, you may suffer from I.T.D.

What is I.T.D.?

I.T.D. Is a rare disorder caused by an imbalance of serotonin in the brain.

Thankfully, there is a solution:

Cerebratax.

Cerebratax has been proven by clinical studies to effectively treat I.T.D....'

'Who are clinical studies?'

'Huh?' replied Marc Blankenship as he lifted his forefinger momentarily, with measured hesitation, from the steering pad.

'What are clinical studies?' his son, Blake, repeated, watching the dancing snakes of laser-lights and neon whiz by from the back seat, and smiling gently in wonder at them.

'Clinical studies,' began Blake's father, catching his attention as he more firmly grimaced towards the road ahead, 'are observations made by scientists and doctors about...'

'Like Doctor Shannon?'

'Right,' replied Marc after a moment's hesitation, and with deliberate patience, 'Except Dr. Shannon is a practising doctor. They have other people in the scientific profession who run tests on drugs called 'pharmaceuticals' before someone like Dr. Shannon can prescribe them to you.'

But Blake's eyes had already returned to the window, his ears immersed in the hum of the surrounding world beyond the cubic frame of their zooming vehicle. His father raised one eyebrow over the other, as he had always been apt to do so when ignored, and, with equally methodical fidelity, maintained an unchanged look in his glassy eyes.

'Dad,' Blake mused.

'Hm?!' his father acknowledged his son with an almost-snarl, which Blake was too accustomed to to be upset or even surprised by.

'What if all people followed predictable patterns?' Blake continued, eyes flying out the window with the leaves of trash as father and son zoomed through the Forest.

'I don't know,' came Dr Blankenship's passionately unclimactic reply, as he peered through his least favourite place to fly in with a glare that seemed almost like a futile attempt to bring their destination closer to them.