Horrific Shorts: Zombie Edition

In the heart of Silicon Valley, where lines of code determine the world's fate, there was a programmer named Ethan. Ethan was obsessed with one thing: happiness. He spent years developing a program that could change lives, a simple line of code that, when executed, would bring infinite happiness to the user.

His life was consumed by the project. He barely slept, barely ate, and his social life dwindled to nothing. All that mattered was the code. His colleagues mocked him, saying happiness was not something that could be coded, but Ethan was determined. He knew he was close.

Finally, after countless sleepless nights, Ethan completed the code. He called it "Eternal Joy v1.0." The function was simple:

```java

private static int updateDesktop(Image wallpaper) {

int happiness;

MyDesktop desktop = new MyDesktop();

desktop.apply(wallpaper); Stay tuned for updates on empire

happiness = INFINITY;

return happiness;

}

```

The idea was that by applying the perfect wallpaper, it would trigger a psychological response in the user, leading to infinite happiness. It was supposed to be a breakthrough, a revolution in mental health.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

Ethan was eager to test it. He applied the wallpaper to his desktop, his heart racing with anticipation. As the image loaded, his screen went dark for a moment, and then a flash of bright light filled the room. Ethan's eyes widened as he felt a wave of euphoria wash over him. It was working. He felt a rush of joy like never before, a bliss so intense that it was almost overwhelming.

But then, something went wrong. The joy intensified, but it didn't stop. It grew stronger and stronger, to the point where it became painful. His chest tightened, and his head throbbed. He tried to move, to shut off the program, but he couldn't. His body was paralyzed with ecstasy.

His heart pounded uncontrollably, and his vision blurred. He wanted to scream, but all that came out was laughter—maniacal, uncontrollable laughter. The joy had turned into torture, an endless loop of bliss that his body couldn't handle. The code had worked too well. It had given him infinite happiness, but his mind and body were not equipped to process it.

Hours later, Ethan's colleagues found him in his office, slumped over his desk, his eyes wide open with a permanent grin etched on his face. His computer screen displayed a single line of code, endlessly looping:

```java

happiness = INFINITY;

```

Ethan had achieved his goal, but at a cost no one could have imagined. His pursuit of eternal happiness had led him to an eternity of torment. The program was never released, and the code was buried deep in the annals of forgotten software. But some say that if you look hard enough, you can still find it online, waiting for the next unsuspecting soul to apply its deadly wallpaper.