The inescapable reality and future of steemit and downfall of humanity.

The year 2019.

"How much for the donuts?"
"5 SBDs"

The tall man in somber clothes, hat and dark blue glasses hands out a card with steem's logo on it.

"Here you go.."

The women at counter sliding the card on a flat device connected to a computer.

"Respected person, there doesn't seem to be any balance in it."

Man, takes out his smartphone and logs in to steemit app to transfer his author rewards to the balance.

"That should do it."

The women returns the card after sliding the card against the device and punching in few numbers and man walks out quickly without responding to the women's vocalization:

"Have a nice day, respected person."

She feels oppressed and calls 912. The operator at the other end is an automated voice that chimes:

"Please Hold On! Checking nanoagression meter.

The man just outside the door gets a notification on his smartphone: A ten SBD fine has been deducted from your account for criminal nanoaggression of apathy of 1.37 nAZ. The man sighs, puts the smartphone into his pants and walks towards his car contemplating weird ways to be viral on internet so he can earn what he just lost. Meanwhile, at the counter the phone chimes:

"Thank you for using our service."

The women cancels the phone app in her smartphone and opens zappl and zaps:

Haters are gonna hate. You just have to work hard to make it big.

A telephone booth slowly appears in an alley. The Doctor Who walks out of it. He's of Indian descent. He is amused by how the hats have made a comeback but, soon discovers that people are hiding head implants underneath the hats that monitors wearer's location, feelings, speech and everything in between and broadcast them to some central relay when prompted by user by dialing 912. The doctor looks around and says:

"I bet the implants were adopted faster than cryptocurrency. Who wouldn't want to make money for feeling things?"

He's aware that sarcasm can prove to be expensive in this new world. The good doctor gets back into the phone booth which slowly disappears.

"Wise move. This isn't a place for British superhero."

Donatello says in raspy voice popping his head out of sewers in broad day light.

"Time to make some bucks."

Michelangelo turns on his smartphone.

"That's not why we're here, guys."

Raphael comments.

"its going to be an uphill battle."

Sisyphus whispers. Leonardo nods.

"So. Where we're going guys?"

Mikey inquires .

"According to this device we have to go to Stark mansion."

Don answers.

"That's your smartphone. You're reading Casey's blog."

Leo states facts.

"Casey blogs?"

Mikey asks surprised.

"Told you it was going to be uphill battle."

Sisyphus says smugly stroking his rock.

"Always wanted to beat up Tony Stark."

Raphael grins.

"Yes, this is smartphone. Yes, Casey blogs. There's money in it now. No, there will be no beating up of Tony Stark, I hear he is homeless now since the economy decentralized and had to sell his mansion to the foot clan."

Don explains.

Turtles walk towards Stark mansion. Mikey is repeatedly dialing 912. A series of notification and sighs are heard as they walk by almost like a music composed entirely of wind chimes. None of the turtles are offended by the music. After climbing uphill like Sisyphus predicted, the turtles arrive at Stark mansion. Sisyphus had perished under the rock he was pushing few minutes ago. Nobody had time to help him.
A group of long blonde haired white teenagers with guitar surround the turtles and start attacking them.

"What is happening?"

Mikey reacts breaking the Chinese made guitars.

"Always wanted to punch these kids."

Raphael says punching the kids.

"You see? The foot clan is entirely composed of long blonde haired white teenagers with guitar since their is money to be made for feeling feelings and Shredder wants to take over by raping reward pool."

Don explains from high ground.

"This should be an easy one."

Leo states fact stabbing the last of foot clan. The blood gush all over and a notification chimes on now dying teenager's pants. The blood had offended Mikey.

"You have foiled my plan! Turtles. You will pay greatly for this."

Shredder stops shredding and takes strap off his guitar.

"How much?"

Raphael blurts out as he charges toward Shredder. Shredder takes out a razor and threatens to cut himself if they come any closer. Turtles move closer. Shredder kills himself. Mikey gets another notification. Shaggy and Scooby remove the mask off of the now dead Shredder and reveal it to be Donald Trump Duck. Everything makes sense.