(An operating theatre, much like a medical school, centers upon THE GENIUS at work, his entourage of "Entrepreneurs" taking notes, sending off interns with scribbled post-its hither and thither, their job to take his ideas and make money with them, formulating his creative device into a feeding frenzy of manufactured culture for the plebians.)
(Entrepreneur 1) You need to release an adult coloring book of your sophistry, I'm sure that you'd sell a million copies.
(Entrepreneur 2) It'd sell better if it were for children.
(Entrepreneur 3) It should be for children. They'd grow up with a sense of incredible confusion.
(GENIUS) No, they'd grow up with an incredible sense of bullshit. No one cares more than their next breath. Anything more than that is altruistic nonsense.
(Entrepreneur 4)Okay, so a coloring book for children. (Thoughtful pause) Who are you going to get to it?
(GENIUS) Artists are too flaky. Creative Commons content, insta filters, social media marketing. AI. Children. That famous elephant that paints flowers.
(Entrepreneur 2)Plug right into the millenial gestalt. (Pause) I like it!
(GENIUS) My mind makes babies of us all. (Goes back to writing) I hallucinate on demand. (Stops, looks to the visiting spectators) Society is fortunate that I'm interesting enough to keep myself amused merely being a spectator to my own virtuosity, instead of committing splash zone bukkake all over the faces of a future generation of disenfranchised delinquents.
(One spectator whispers to another) Was that ... Ginsberg?
(Whispers back) Burroughs ... I think.