The man (his name used to be Rod Lunghaven) was at a turning point in his life. He was part of the “Splorch,” a machine rumored to be gifted to humanity by an alien intelligence. It never mattered where the Splorch came from. It was a fact of life, part of the new century, and a controlling factor in the new world order. When the Splorch fist arrived, Rod put up a fight for his independence. He refused to relinquish control over his life, but the machine was insidious. Splorch ate brains with constant messages and commercials. Splorch hypnotized people with “reality” programs and virtual adventures. Splorch provided social networking. Rod was overwhelmed like everyone else, seduced by the color pictures and pretty sounds. Hip-hop played in his brain and altered the Hypocampus. The man, formerly Rod, was at a turning point. He was ensconsed in a Splorch sprocket, turning like a ball bearing or a weather vane in the wind. His life was reduced to ragtag remnants. His memories were corrupted like the hard drive on a computer gone bad. He turned at the turning-point trying to decide which way to go. If he stepped off the sprocket, he would be divorced from the Splorch. A life without an anchor was courting disaster. He dared to remember his name, Rod Lunghaven. It was the beginning of his emancipation. He gave up the addictive seduction of the Splorch to live in a harsh, but free, reality. It was a new beginning.