The writer stared at the blank box on the screen, at a loss for ideas. “Fuck,” he typed in exasperation.

“You must now click the checkbox to mark this story as mature content,” said a voice over his shoulder.

The writer turned in surprise to see a man standing behind him. “Huh? Who are you?”

“I am the Rules Enforcer. You used the word ‘fuck’. Per the rules, you must now mark your story as mature content.”

“This is my story! Who the hell are you to categorize it and restrict who can read it?”

The man shrugged. “Sorry, those are the rules. They have been set, and you are not allowed to violate them. To do so would be inviting chaos and disorder.”

“But you’re stifling my creativity! How can writers and artists create new and unique works if they’re shoehorned into narrow-minded ideas of what’s acceptable and not, and if viewers are prevented from reading stories that fall into the wrong categories?”

“Sorry, those are the rules. Also, you’re almost out of letters, so finish up.”

“What do you mean I’m almo