What is technology, really? An amusement? A shield from nature's labors? Industry? None of these—technology is meant to transcend the human. And when we behold this font of tomato, dipping fries into a ketchup continuum, we become gods.
Greater than gods, actually. Could God himself envision a ketchup fountain so vast, he would run out of fries to dip? This is man's ultimate feat, a demonstration of will and ingenuity that makes the Apollo program look like a toddler's tin toothing ring. The Large Hadron Collider? A flickering candle. The splitting of the atom? A knock knock joke of physics. The ketchup fountain is our terminus, our consummate moment as a species.
Dip a fry in. Cover it. Eat it. Dip more in. Dip three in. Dip a crystal chalice in. Stick you head in. Inhale the ketchup, letting your lungs fill slowly with sweet tomato syrup, your brain expanding with infinite knowledge, untold wisdom of the horrors of the cosmos. Divine omniscience. A good source of lycopene.
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