Camila + Haruki

From the SFC hospital, we talked in our EMOS-projected virtual private room about the insane increase in matriculation at HKU since the Impact Hypothesis was calibrated, when Cam mentioned that a SOS Club had opened on campus, a detail that surprised me considering that Hong Kong University didn't have a hedonistic ethos (c'est pas la Sorbonne).  We argued about different acceleration equations and eschatology models, I mentioned a new dissertation chapter I was struggling through about Adorno and the culture industry in post-apocalyptic religious economies ("kill me now," she said), then she talked about a new monograph she was reading from one of her friends about Tibetan liberation theology in the cyclical history of economic crises ("fuck me," I muttered), then she updated me about the in-fighting between two white feminists and a queer Hong Kongese intersectional feminist in our department about racial erasure at department meetings.  Eventually, we both became so shamefully aroused, we had v-sex right there:  I was in the dark hospital corridor and she was sitting on the pullout sofa in my flat in the Peak, listening to my favorite Electro-Hop (electronic instrumental music with hip-hop beats) song on the ambient digital player, smoking a Peace Love Cush o-joint from California, her legs open wide like a grandiloquent signifier of Nabokovian erotica.