Happy Neighborhood

“10% down, permanent ownership.” When I first saw that emerald-green flyer, I thought it was salvation. It wasn’t until I saw a steel needle pierce my wife’s spine in the dead of night, drawing out her life, and spotted circuit boards beneath the lawn that I understood. There was no “Happy Community” here. Only numbered people, waiting in petri dishes to feed on our flesh and blood. And Auntie Wang from the sales office, forever smiling, was watching from behind the surveillance screens: a lie called “home.”