I stare in disbelief at the words displayed on my computer screen. I don’t realize that I am speaking as a moaned “no…no…” tumbles from my mouth. Ian Mahinmi has scored eighteen points yet again, and thus, I am obliged to make his highlights.
“I’ll do a different video,” I say to myself as my mouse hand shakily navigates away from the Pacers-Bulls boxscore. However, my dread grows more pronounced when some other part of my brain forces me back to the page I was just looking at. “I don’t want to make Ian Mahinmi highlights,” I tell myself firmly, hoping to hold back that traitorous second consciousness which resides in my mind.
“It doesn’t matter what you want, DTB,” whispers that second consciousness in a voice identical to my own, and I am terrified to find that my hands are now beginning the process of editing the video despite my attempts to control them. Panic, or something else, causes my vision to blur. I successfully stand up from my chair and walk a few steps away, my arms autonomously grabbing at the mouse and keyboard I have just vacated. However, I do not make it far, and my legs are soon guided back to the chair.
“No, not Ian Mahinmi highlights,” I sob. “Nobody watches them.” But there’s a part of my brain that doesn’t care about view counts, only about the stated goal of my channel, a goal which has long been a farce: ‘I like to give some spotlight to the lesser known players.’
Having lost the strength to fight, my head lolls back as the video is completed. Tears leak freely from my eyes. Meanwhile, I can hear the malign consciousness gibbering and giggling in ecstasy. “Please, let me go…” I murmur.
“Not yet, DTB, not yet,” says the evil voice, laughing shrilly. “We still have…DEWAYNE DEDMON HIGHLIGHTS TO MAKE!!!!”
My body goes slack and I drop limply from my chair. However, even from my position on the floor, my arms reach up to the desk to try to manipulate the mouse and keyboard. My ordeal is not yet over. In fact, it has hardly begun…