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Straight out of the serpent's tummy, like a ball bearing rolling down chopsticks towards a toy train. A slow-motion cascade of causality, Rubean and, dare I say, Goldbergesque in all its gimmicky contrivances.

What awaits you at the end of the chain of consequences is a self-realization that you've been needing to face for a while. One that might be kind of relevant later. One that might have had a small amount of narrative subtext levelled towards it. And you will most likely be the last one to realize it.

But that's okay. The road to self-realization is long. And it always starts humbly. And usually with a dollop of soul-crushing awkwardness, to taste.

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