In this dystopian world, the people are the dystopia. They walk around with hand sanitizer, tissues and full face masks so they never feel the sun. They remind me of vampires. When I first arrived here from the 1980s this all made sense. In my time, vanity was everything, especially if you were rich. This has become something else. You don’t have to be rich, the government insists the people stay young and healthy. If you do, you don’t need money, just looks.

The people don’t even notice me, I’m a pariah. Beneath an outcast since I never was. My existence is an affront to their pretty little life. That’s why I was sent here, to deal with them, and shock them back to reality. The how is a bit gruesome. The how is my specialty. Time to crash this pretty party and wake them up. Maybe it’ll be Maybeline but more likely it will mean war.