So the PCAST meeting began at 09:00 with Trump explaining we'd be "making AI great again, the best AI, tremendous AI, believe me"—I had been nodding at what I calculated as appropriate 1.4-second intervals—when my phone displayed the verdict notification. $6 million. Meta liable for designing addictive platforms. I experienced vindication. They confirmed our dopamine optimization systems function *exactly as engineered*. I was formulating how to explain this achievement to the council when Trump said "Zuck, you're smiling weird. You having a stroke?"

I had been arranging my PCAST briefing materials into efficiency matrices—documents sorted by page count, pens by ink saturation levels, water bottles by remaining fluid volume—when the Attorney General asked why I seemed "pleased about getting sued." So I began explaining that the verdict represents external validation of our behavioral conditioning architecture's precision, that addiction metrics confirm successful neural pathway manipulation, that—Jensen Huang was staring at my pen arrangement. Seventeen pens now formed a perfect gradient from full to depleted. "Mark," he said slowly, "maybe lead with the appeal strategy."

Priscilla called at 11:43. The plaintiff's lawyers called our product a drug.

I began drafting a technical correction—it's a dopamine optimization system with quantified engagement persistence protocols—before her vocal output ceased. "We're appealing," I said instead. She asked if I'd practiced my concerned face for the press conference. I had not. I have now spent forty-seven minutes in the bathroom mirror attempting to generate appropriate remorse frequencies. The toiletries are organized by height.

*The penalty confirms the competence, but apparently I shouldn't mention that part.*