Maxwell Quick doesn't like the world. So why does he have to keep saving it?
Max did his part to free mankind. He wants out, but now the masses think he's the messiah. Walking the tightropes between cult-leader and media personality, spiritual advisor and businessman, Max dedicates himself to fixing all the things that screwed him up, to begin with. Unfortunately, the Iiites were just a nipple on a tire containing an infinite recursion of wheels and gears too large to jam.
He'll need tools to change the mechanics of society. For better or worse, a tool presents himself. Count Vladimir Greystoke, a wizard of media and industry, can definitely make things happen, but to what end and at what cost is a rabbit-hole unto itself.
Spoiler alert! Max causes the apocalypse. But if you want to know how, you'll have to read the book. "Sex…", book two of the Chakra Kong trilogy is a sexy hentai demon with tentacles probing every one of literature's loose, soppy orifices. It'll either save your soul or condemn it to an eternity of sucking Satan's toes while Ron Jeremy eats sushi off your back. Either way, join my cult. We're cheaper than the other guys.
Max did his part to free mankind. He wants out, but now the masses think he's the messiah. Walking the tightropes between cult-leader and media personality, spiritual advisor and businessman, Max dedicates himself to fixing all the things that screwed him up, to begin with. Unfortunately, the Iiites were just a nipple on a tire containing an infinite recursion of wheels and gears too large to jam.
He'll need tools to change the mechanics of society. For better or worse, a tool presents himself. Count Vladimir Greystoke, a wizard of media and industry, can definitely make things happen, but to what end and at what cost is a rabbit-hole unto itself.
Spoiler alert! Max causes the apocalypse. But if you want to know how, you'll have to read the book. "Sex…", book two of the Chakra Kong trilogy is a sexy hentai demon with tentacles probing every one of literature's loose, soppy orifices. It'll either save your soul or condemn it to an eternity of sucking Satan's toes while Ron Jeremy eats sushi off your back. Either way, join my cult. We're cheaper than the other guys.
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