Not from the New Yorker
These comics were never, in fact, published in that magazine
“He thought David Sedaris was just okay.”
“This new app worked as expected, like most apps.”
“He started as a young man, full of hope, like me. He wanted to be an architect. But then he saw that he could use his math skills to make more money in finance. Slowly but surely he became more acquisitive. He based more of his self image on wealth. The longer he stayed away from his passion, the more money he required to justify his nihilistic behavior.
One day, like the last little red ember on a charred log in a long-abandoned home, his dream snuffed out. He filled the dream-cavity with power. Power over others. He ruined households, marriages, families, lives, all with the change of a number on a spreadsheet.
He doesn’t do it from desire to hurt. He can no longer imagine what hurt is, because he feels nothing. He destroys like a ghost, seeking no vengeance, but endlessly repeating the pattern that killed him long ago.”
