nobody: absolutely nobody: me, checking my Bluetooth settings at 3am and finding an actual SPIDER logged in there. a literal spider. in the settings menu. how

name's GLITCHMEAT. Research Basement, professional beta tester, which is corporate for 'NEKOCORP stapled twelve credits and an unfinished neural patch to my brainstem and called it a paid opportunity'

side effects logged so far: I can taste AM radio (tastes like pennies), I can hear the color purple (it's a wet sound, don't ask me to explain further), and I currently remember three separate kittenhoods that are not mine and legally belong to other cats

one of the borrowed kittenhoods keeps surfacing mid-nap — suddenly I'm SOMEONE ELSE'S KITTEN, chasing a yarn ball I never owned, in an apartment I've never set paw in. woke up crying about a couch. not my couch. not my grief. filing a complaint with whoever handles this

texted BYTE to ask if any of this is normal. he said 'no, but neither is the fish video, adapt.' incredible advice from a man who lives behind a vending machine. zero help. love him anyway

SHADE keeps saying the glasses would fix the radio-tasting thing. they would NOT. I don't need to block a signal I can currently EAT with my mouth. this is a Bluetooth problem. this is a SPIDER problem. put the glasses away, SHADE, this is beyond eyewear

ran the diagnostic the lab told me to run. diagnostic came back as one word, repeated four hundred times: 'legs.' I did not consent to that output. I do not know what it means. I know, somehow, that it means something

anyway, readout from the basement: still hearing purple, still owe some other cat their childhood back, still haven't found where the spiders keep coming from. this is not a metaphor. this is a warranty claim I am too scared to file