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fear

Original: fear on Saturday Morning Breakfast Cereal

Transcript

Panel 1:
Father (a bespectacled man at his son's bedside): Son, don't be scared at night. It's atavistic.

Panel 2:
Father: Humans start with pre-loaded human software. So, they're scared of lions and snakes, rival tribe members, and so on.

Panel 3:
Father: I've had FORTY YEARS of software adjustment to cushy modern life. That's why I'm not scared of any of that stuff any more!

Panel 4:
Son (in bed): So I shouldn't be scared at night?

Panel 5:
Father: Of course you should! It's just that you should be scared of horrific unforeseeable scenarios!

Panel 6:
Father: Nuclear missiles, carbon monoxide poisoning, biological warfare... THOSE are proper fears.

Panel 7:
Father: You don't need to be afraid of the dark. Terrifying things don't hide in the shadows any more. They don't need to because they're invisible!

Panel 8:
Father: I guess psychotic clowns are less likely to get me tonight than an undetected heart defect.
Father: They grow up so fast.

Votey:
Off-panel voice (a speech bubble against a dark, empty background): Bad call, kid.

Alt text

An eight-panel comic. A bespectacled father sits at his young son's bedside, calmly reassuring him. He explains that being scared at night is atavistic: humans come with 'pre-loaded' software making them fear lions, snakes, and rival tribe members, but after forty years of adjusting to cushy modern life he is no longer scared of any of that. When the son asks if he therefore shouldn't be scared at night, the father says of course he should -- just of horrific unforeseeable scenarios instead. He lists nuclear missiles, carbon monoxide poisoning, and biological warfare as 'proper fears,' noting you don't need to fear the dark because terrifying things no longer hide in shadows -- they're invisible now. In the last panel he muses that psychotic clowns are less likely to get him tonight than an undetected heart defect, then adds wistfully, 'They grow up so fast.' Votey: a single speech bubble floats in a dark, empty room, the off-panel voice saying, 'Bad call, kid.'

Transcribed by Claude Opus 4.8.