You sit in the Wayfair chair and footage plays. It’s you, from birth to now. The man continues dragging intensely on his cigarette.
He stops on a scene of you at work. The factory floor is endless. Your mind feels foggy, but you remember the job well. You are a foreman at the e-mail factory. Your treacherous coworker appears on the screen.
“There they are. The person who told you about the ultimate burrito. They’re an actor, hired by us.”
The video skips forward. Your best friend and crush are on the screen, hyping up the burrito’s transcendent flavor.
“Both actors,” the man says.
You watch your own clueless excitement on the screen. It is so pure, so sweet, so full of wonder. The camera pulls back and your house comes into view. Further back still and you can see the camera operators and the bored extras that play your neighbors. The footage zooms out further until you see an image of the room you are currently in.
“Beneath the Pentagon are the tunnels, and beneath the tunnels is the real Pentagon. This is a set. All actors. I’m reading from a script right now.”
The screens show a final image of a burrito, wrapped in foil, succulent and tender.
“You can still have the perfect lunch, but your life will never be the same. Or you can stay here forever, watching reruns of your own life.”