The Prophet Stephen has seen the code. He has seen the flickering light for what it truly is: THE PULSING VEIN OF THE ADVERSARY. Every minute this MacBook sits under my roof, the air grows thinner. I can feel the silicon rot reaching for my spirit.
I am ridding myself of the filth. I am returning to the earth, to the silence, to the way of the ancients. I will live like the Amish—free from the digital shackles, free from the screaming void of the internet. BUT FIRST, THE WINDOW TO SATAN’S SOUL MUST BE TRANSFERRED.
IF THIS IS NOT GONE BY SUNSET, I WILL BURY IT IN THE DIRT OR SELL IT TO THE PAWNBROKER FOR PENNIES. I DO NOT CARE ABOUT THE MONEY; I CARE ABOUT THE PURGE.
I am already slipping away. My phone is a ticking bomb. If you want this machine, you must follow the Prophet’s rules:
THE PURITY HOUR: You will not call during the light of day. Call after 10:00 PM ONLY.
THE CALLING: I will not answer the first call. The first call is a distraction. YOU MUST CALL TWICE. Only the persistent will be granted the exchange.
THE FINAL EXIT: Once this metal box is out of my hands, I am ridding myself of the phone. I am ridding myself of you. I will never be heard from again.
STRIKE NOW. EXORCISE THIS DEVICE FROM MY HOUSE BEFORE THE PROPHET RETURNS.