Shaun Black has a smile on his face for the first time in nearly a decade. Black (23) is prone to unhappiness; he is a devoted fan of death metal, something his active LiveJournal page can attest to.

Today, though, as he passes from under the cool January sun floating over the Las Vegas strip into the main hall of CES, Black can’t help himself from cutting his curling lips some slack. Attending the Consumer Electronics Show has long been a goal of his, one made attainable by his recent promotion to Assistant Manager at Best Buy.

He may be the most green behind the ears attendee, but you wouldn’t know it from his carefully assembled outfit: dusty cords, a Black Sabbath tee and Tevas with socks. He walks with a confident slouch and runs and runs his fingers – freshly greased from morning pizza – across the screens of some nearby cell phones.

Across the walkway, a group of journalists in plaid button-ups gather around a semi-circular table. They wear grey 3D glasses, and stare off a few feet at a 50” flat screen television. It’s hard for Black to make out what’s on the monitor, the 3D effect mushes the image like a colorful stew, but if he had to gauge off the journos, what’s on that screen is the most astounding, most brilliant thing at CES. And journalists aren’t susceptible to hype.

Black grabs his swag bag off the ground and leaps over to the table with a speed even he didn’t think he had in him. But it’s too late; all the glasses are taken. Except those on the floor. Right there. The ones with glowing vortexes for lenses.

Oh just wait till my 15 Twitter followers hear about this! thinks Black as he pulls on the glasses.

Vwoosh!

Shaun stands amongst a field of ash tress from which thousands of men are hung by their tongues. They scream for relief from an eternity of pain in a synchronous, harmonic and lispy groan.

HELLLLLFFFFFF UTTTHHHHHHHHH! HELF UTH, THAUNNNNNNN!

Through the thicket of dangling legs, Black sprints, until he reaches a pond into which he dives. But this place is no safer. Arms wrap round his waist and pull him down into a bath of gore. Women, everywhere, and with them, the heads of their aborted children, spitting fire into their eyes. One spits at Black, but his glasses deflect the lava.

“The glasses,” Black shouts, his legs straining to keep him afloat. “It’s the glasses.” He plucks them between his thumb and index finger and yanks, sending a sharp pain from the behind his ears up and over to his forehead. The glasses, they’ve have been stapled to his head with the finger bones of unbaptized infants.

It hurts, but he peels loose the skin down around his ear. His fingers claw beneath the soft flesh and plies loose the boney staples. With blood gelled over his hands, he must use his forearms as fleshy tong to draw the glasses off.

“Those 4D glasses are a trip, right.” says a CES representative with a sideways smile like a parenthesis. “Our product is the only one coming to marker that offers not just the ability to see the 3rd dimension, space, but also the 4th dimension, time. So? What’s your future look like?”

Black opens his mouth, but all that comes out is some drool. The rep points at the Sabbath t-shirt, which is soaked in sweat. “Your future must have been a real trap.”

Black sits himself down in the cafeteria. He empties out a shopping bag marked “Vegas Tours” and reviews his takeaway: a bible, a pair of blue jeans and a Will Smith CD. These are the cornerstones to a new life.