Tantrum① · Schizophrenia

Part ① · Devil Talk Show

Your name was Ben.

Ben Rickert—

—graduated from Florida State University in 2017.

You were Black, Ben. Can you hear me?

Today was March 21, 2030, and it was also your thirty-third birthday.

Until then, you still owed the last year of your student loans: $21,683 in total.

You'd done well on the school basketball team, but you weren't good enough to make it to the draft. Your talent for dribbling a ball couldn't compare to that of your classmates.

You found your first proper job at twenty-six. Before that, you'd worked odd jobs at a dollar burger joint, even with a degree from Florida State University.

You often went to soup kitchens. You were so tall and big that people could easily tell when you'd lined up two or three times, trying to eat as much as you could.

Ben, get a grip. This was a crucial moment in your life.

Marty TV Station had approached you because you were so funny and quick-witted—

—you'd been invited to a live TV show called Devil Talk Show.

This was your chance to change your life. You couldn't zone out again, couldn't let your mind wander just because you were craving drugs.

You needed to look back at the audience, at the cameras.

Don't sneak a peek down the female host's neckline. That wasn't what you should be looking at, Rickert.

"Mr. Ben! What did the field reporter say when she interviewed you on the street?" A blonde beauty stood at the lectern in the studio. She wore glasses and looked refined, with a staff badge pinned to her chest. It bore a name you didn't recognize: Latia Morian.

Ben Rickert, you'd never heard that name before. This station had still been using hot-air balloons