‘11,100,’ he thought.
He tweaked the little metal splinter on the back of his neck. It gave him an ice-cream headache.
Everyone googles themselves sometime, but he’d never found urbrain.com before.
Neatly taxonomized were personal opinions, secret opinions, embarrassing memories, family secrets… sexual fantasies. Everything.
Horror quickly took the place of shock when he realized it was updating in real-time, putting online pictures and video that could only have been taken from behind his eyeballs.
Refresh: now it showed him in the mirror, pliers in hand. The counter had gone up – over 12,000 now.
‘This ain’t so bad.’
‘12,000 Likes.’
Author’s Note: Privacy has become a commodity that sells.
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