Social Justice Warriors have reverted to their true forms: Worm-creatures that burrow through the earth and yank unsuspecting microaggressors into their tooth-lined maws. Jokes must be submitted to the Social Justice Bureau and screened for possible triggers; the wait is over a year, and the odds of approval are slim to nonexistent. The words “he” and “her” are banned; all pronouns must now be gender neutral. Working out is a felony offense; it is seen as grievous body-shaming. It’s the middle of the night and I’m running through the woods with a handful of fitness enthusiasts, all of us clutching kettlebells to our chest, our eyes darting side to side so as not to get caught unawares by a legion of Social Justice worm-monsters. We find a forest clearing and furtively begin repping out some turkish get-ups. A few minutes pass, then we run through the woods to another clearing; you can’t stay too long in one spot or the worms will lock onto you. We’re knocking out some swings when suddenly, trails of humped earth begin streaking toward us. One of the new guys—a poor kid who’s just starting to gain muscle—screams, “HOW DID THEY FIND US SO QUICKLY? HOW DID—” And then he’s yanked into the loam below, and his panicked screams turn into wet gurgles. I look left and see a yoked mom who I had hoped to hook up with scream in terror and scramble up a tree. She’s made it three feet up before the ground bursts open right under her feet. I see a brief flash of pimples and dyed hair before the mom is snapped up by a snarling SJW. I open my mouth, intent on rallying the remaining people into some sort of escape, when my body is jerked downward and suddenly I find myself staring at a sniveling nerd who is so mentally stunted and insecure that he has come to see debate as persecution. He lunges for me and I jam my kettlebell between his teeth. What devilry is this??? The cast iron weight slows him, but as he gnashes at it I see it crumpling under his ferocity. I open my eReader to Echo. Magic flash. A blued-steel katana plunges through the earth and right through the nerd’s skull. For a gruesome yet awesome instant, I see the blade shining in between his teeth as his mouth gapes open in surprise. I crawl out of the worm-tunnel, spitting and coughing and see a legion of ninjas stabbing and decapitating the evil Social Justice worms. The lead ninja helps me to my feet and unmasks himself. It’s Batman, and he’s wearing a Batman mask underneath the ninja mask. I ask, “Don’t you ever take the Batman mask off, Bruce? You were just wearing a ninja mask on top of—” He lifts the katana to my face in a warning gesture and says, “BRUCE is the mask.” Then he vanishes. What a boss. My testosterone goes up 1000% and I finish my workout, setting a dozen PRs along the way.