In a not-so-distant dystopia, airports peddle TV-takeovers to aspiring super-villains who hope to shock and awaken the deadened senses of an itinerant caste of business travelers with announcements of plans for world destruction and/or domination. Units are sold on a cost-per-conversion basis, or—in insiders’ terms—pay-per-panic. However, the market bottoms when CNN hires said super-villains and gives each an hour-long squawk-box style afternoon talk show, airing episodes in continuous rotation. In the ensuing atmosphere of network-backed panic, airline passengers open an underground market exchange, bidding in volume for seats on flights with the least risk of being hijacked. Pilots become power brokers who only answer to their flight attendant puppet masters, finally in the ascendant after years spent plotting in the shadowy alcove between the drink trolley and the suspiciously always-occupied restroom. These ‘doyennes of destruction,’ as they quickly become known, distribute peanut and pretzel packages laced with mind-controlling chemicals as rations in an increasingly constricting system of snack-based patronage. Amid the chaos, Smoothie King continues to turn a profit as a result of sound business practices and the fact that even the most bedraggled of travelers still enjoy a vaguely healthy alternative to McDonalds in proximity to their gate of departure-cum-impending doom.