Watching the aphids snow down from the window through the window in his temporary office, Martin thought about drugs. New drugs, cyber drugs. It had started innocently enough; sober for 10 years, when his office mate suggested a drug free addiction in the form of online troll basing. It was simple, you typed in a different address emailed to you each week, and feasted your eyes on patterns and swirls that made your mind drip and drool into your cerebral cortex. It was heady, techy, weird ass shit. Martin remembers reading some story as a kid about this music you could listen to from this black market cassette that was supposed to do the same thing. So he signed up, paid his dues, and typed in the address. He didn't know how...but it worked.
So he checked it at work once in the bathroom, scrolling through his phone, getting caught up/high, then walked back to his desk and watched the aphids, covered in their own snowy sugar feces, fly around outside. It looked pretty until you had to clean off your car/grill/bicycle/deck. he could care less. He was high and nothing else mattered.