the smuggler’s bible


The chains we forge in life (I know, I know, believe me, but best to start from first principles) are varied in manifestation and depend extremely upon an individual’s lived experiences.

Zusman’s are links of welded iron two inches thick, clasped by a padlock as broad as the palm of his hand. There’s a little face on the lock—a skull—and its eyes glow red.

“Is this right?” He tries to shamble and almost topples. “Seems excessive.”

“Listen, sinner,” the onboarding demon says, “people get what they deserve. Especially the ones who click reply all.”


“From their iPhone.”