“Tell you what I’d really love” I said, loudly. “That slashed T-shirt the singer was wearing. Oh my god, didn’t she look incredible?” “I...��m afraid that is a one-off and not for sale,” came an American accent behind me. “But thank you, I’m glad you liked it.” I gasped. The singer was standing there, smiling at me. She had changed into a clean, dry, plain top, but otherwise looked fresh from stage, still glowing, flushed and even sexier close up. I blustered and flustered and said something about. I was being driven by something inside me, something I didn't know, something I don't think I wanted to know, something dark that I was afraid of."Turn left," she said, and I did, obediently. Isn't that odd? I refuse to listen to the collective wisdom of society but I'll obey every little whim of a talking computer chip. Maybe, just maybe, that is because little nag is always right and society's rules have this way of being wrong so much of the time, impeding happiness and pleasure instead of. More

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