“She knelt in a flickering dream chamber — chrome walls sweating morphine and old jazz records looping through a static-smeared intercom. A synthetic serpent, double-headed and slick, buried itself in dual orifices like an ancient rite performed for no god. Her face was glass, her body just conduit — nerves rerouted through rubber and memory. The plastic intruder pulsed with prerecorded moans, humming something between pleasure and malfunction. It wasn’t sex — not anymore. It was circuitry testing flesh, ritual automation, the body as feedback loop. The Interzone Clinic logged the act as Experiment 23-B: Subject responds favorably to dual-entry protocol. Her eyes rolled back into static snow