The Slickening
Oscar had always been an observer. It was a survival mechanism honed in the quiet, solitary world of accounting. He noticed patterns, trends, and anomalies with a clinical detachment. So, when the world began to change, he was one of the first to sense it.
It started with Slick. A product marketed as a miracle lubricant, it promised to revolutionize intimacy. Slick was the brainchild of a multinational conglomerate that had, in a stroke of genius, combined cutting-edge biochemistry with ancient aphrodisiacs. The result was a substance that seemed to ignite desire in the human soul.
At first, Slick was a sensation. Couples reported unprecedented levels of satisfaction. Divorce rates plummeted, replaced by a surge in weddings. The world seemed to be basking in a golden age of love. But Oscar, from his vantage point, saw cracks in this gilded facade. People were becoming increasingly obsessed with physical pleasure. Their conversations revolved around sexual techniques, their social lives centered around hedonistic pursuits.
Oscar's office was a microcosm of this transformation. Once a realm of numbers and spreadsheets, it was now a battleground of innuendo and suggestive glances. Even his mild-mannered colleagues were caught in the Slick vortex. The once reserved and professional atmosphere was replaced by an electric tension, a constant low hum of desire.
There was Janice, the office flirt, whose outfits became increasingly provocative. Her once sharp business acumen seemed to have been replaced by a preoccupation with her physical appearance. Then there was Kevin, the always-serious data analyst, who had transformed into a brooding, self-absorbed Adonis. His reports were filled with errors, his focus entirely on the gym and his newly acquired personal trainer.
It was during this time that Oscar began to withdraw. The office had become a toxic environment, a breeding ground for superficiality and narcissism. He found solace in his work, pouring himself into spreadsheets and financial models with a renewed vigor. It was a way to escape the madness, to retreat into a world of logic and order.
As Slick’s popularity soared, so too did its potency. What had once been a simple lubricant evolved into a complex cocktail of hormones and neurotransmitters. People became addicted, their lives consumed by the relentless pursuit of pleasure. Relationships fractured, families disintegrated, and society as a whole began to unravel.
Then came the children. A tidal wave of newborns inundated the world. Hospitals were overwhelmed, schools strained to capacity. The economy faltered under the weight of a burgeoning population. But this was just the beginning. Diseases mutated, resistant to antibiotics. Food shortages became commonplace. The planet groaned under the strain.
