Desktop - Helium

it squeaks.

The year is 2087, and the resource wars have ended not with a bang, but with a hiss. A silent, odorless, and deeply frustrating hiss. helium desktop

The sound of that helium voice—strained, manic, impossibly high—fills the room. And for the first time in forty years, someone laughs. Not a dry, polite cough. A real, belly-deep, gasping laugh. Then another. And another. it squeaks