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| Impossible LOV3 ~ Marc Brunet |
Everything is lucid, like images on a silicon screen, the trees rustle with precise green edges: menu icons etched against the azure surface of evening’s dome.
Time, like all commodities, becomes more valuable as its availability decreases.
This street presents itself as the suburban trappings of an old and powerful city, exhibiting the acceptable facade of power by parading wealth in the time-honoured manner.
There is no need to explain, the rules are clear: the pyramid is demarcated and barriered at all levels, and we all know what our level expects of us.
Or so they would have us believe.
Kelly slouches deeper into her shape-shift poncho, Forming her own pyramid, one who’s base carries the weight of the world.
The sentinels ping her chip at every gate; barking digital calls and responses; charting her position in relation to assets and hierarchy; checking her credit history and assessing her credibility.
Sonny said it would take a few days for the poison-meta laden trojan to do its job on the sentinels; a fact which Kelly will have to take on faith since, as the self-appointed sacrificial pawn, she knows that she doesn’t have that long left.
As the sentinels take to mauling her chip, Kelly experiences relief that it will soon be over: for the first time in forever she will be empty of data – not pulled in all directions by the demands of this connected world.
Everything is lucid, like an image from a camera obscura: an infinite depth of field.
Time, like all commodities, becomes more valuable as its availability decreases.
This street presents itself as the suburban trappings of an old and powerful city, exhibiting the acceptable facade of power by parading wealth in the time-honoured manner.
There is no need to explain, the rules are clear: the pyramid is demarcated and barriered at all levels, and we all know what our level expects of us.
Or so they would have us believe.
Kelly slouches deeper into her shape-shift poncho, Forming her own pyramid, one who’s base carries the weight of the world.
The sentinels ping her chip at every gate; barking digital calls and responses; charting her position in relation to assets and hierarchy; checking her credit history and assessing her credibility.
Sonny said it would take a few days for the poison-meta laden trojan to do its job on the sentinels; a fact which Kelly will have to take on faith since, as the self-appointed sacrificial pawn, she knows that she doesn’t have that long left.
As the sentinels take to mauling her chip, Kelly experiences relief that it will soon be over: for the first time in forever she will be empty of data – not pulled in all directions by the demands of this connected world.
Everything is lucid, like an image from a camera obscura: an infinite depth of field.
Tales for an attention deficit world
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