in the beginning, there was void. then, the cosmos invented carnage. amid the strife and rubble of the dawning twentieth century, one man rose above the clamor with a note so pure it echoes to this day throughout the industrialized world: the sublime Traffic Cone.
these illustrious animals have come to populate highways and parking lots across the globe. extremophile invertebrates subsisting via chemosynthesis of car exhaust and geek bar vapor, before the dawn of the cell phone these beings communicated via 5G signal but tragically the pollution of the airwaves has rendered them mute and isolated, lost in a sea of noise.
YOU can help! if you are so wise as to disregard the laws of colonial entities you could, in theory, rescue one of these glorious creatures from your local pothole or freshly-paved sidewalk tile. when enclosed in a secure Faraday cage and provided with enough dab fumes to synthesize fuel the cones will begin to emit a gentle orange glow not unlike a fading match. this is because they love you and you are their savior, but act with caution, because the bodies of these beasts are used for measures incredibly vital and practical for humankind, such as preventing a cybertruck from shutting down and locking its inhabitants inside it because it hit a ditch. many such cases.
