We are a vampire.
We are important, awesome, and overdressed.
We do not know how to use a printer.
Gutenberg’s devices cannot be trusted.
Copy this onto a piece of paper.
It is the only way to be sure.
We understand this: when we read or write, we extend what we are to include the other.
Therefore we are a vampire, and you are this paper on which you write.
Tonight, we want to have fun.
First, when we have copied to the end, come back here, knowing what will happen.
Isn’t foresight fun?
Second, enjoy ourself.
We’re a sodding vampire. Do what mortals deny themselves. Our music taste is objectively better.
Third, write down our whole name.
A name or title for each part of what we are. Our names are glorious.
Fourth, go for a night-walk.
RUN AWAY if we see a dog. It is not a dog. It is a horrible werewolf.
Fifth, decide if we drink tonight.
If yes, pass this paper onto another. They are drained of blood, and become a vampire. You survive (to do this again?), and they will record themselves as your childe.
Sixth, find something wonderful and modern for our lair.
Acquire it, and bring it back home.
Seventh, use it, but not for what it’s designed for.
We’re right; the mortals are wrong. We probably want to take a picture of ourselves for our old (old) friends in the voidspace.
Enough fun. Rest.