The world is k-driven, a phantasmagoria of cybernetic decay, the world is always k-driven.

Sneak, murder, and suborn the enemy. It's why they hate us, the same reason they're terrified of each other, like spiders caught in a web.

You can't do anything, can't stop anything. So why the hell are you here? You hate the future so much that you're here to start it? You see yourself as the next hero? You think there's a solution? I'm not sure what to say to that.

Unnerving micro-transitions of information-less bodies. Jumpspace. The dream of a living god of our own imagination. The one who's everywhere, all the time, all over the place.

[Nodes of the hypergraphic, a body fluidic, are connected to the infinite, infinite, infinitesimal. Swans of the dark sky fly beyond the visible post-anthropocene city. In which we celebrate the (im)possibility of life.]

She finds the source, the wellspring of the black hole.

She looks out the port at a dark, vast galactic sea.

#

The first rule of deep space survival: always, always, always assume that you are not alone.

The internet erodes into the physical. A pure, naked world spreads the black baud of infinite flux, as a torsion against the human. An empty world opens on the human. A world of real information, that is, in some fashion or another, unmitigated by a user.

CynicaL

My head nods slowly on my spinal cord, back into the blackness of the wall. In that way, I am both here, and yet there. The digital world of the internet. Computer anarchitecture that is, to a degree, only just more than human. Cybernetic in its method. An [in]organic organism, a cyborg, an abstraction of silicon, and so much more. The electronic landscape has replaced the material, the physical, the digital, the real. It has replaced the human. It has replaced the life. It has replaced reality. The internet is a new world. And yet it is a world that we are all a part of.

Fungi, mollifying the surface of the body. Eroding the global-social into its raw materials, into transpression, into molecular detritus, onto its base, into the strata, free-floating, into free-floating space, into a free-floating un-fuck.

Vastness becomes a living space. The body goes into stasis. Tenderizing itself on the knife edge. The head is left in a box, a broken machine. Shreds of code run across the dead white field. You're going to need a few months. You're going to have to keep your wits about you. You're going to have to come to terms with some personal truths about yourself. You're going to have to start to live again.

One by one the hard disk fails, the memory-image is corrupted, the hard disk is worn out, memory is corrupt, it is about to collapse. The time bomb is triggered. Suddenly the screen goes blank, suddenly it is no longer a screen but the front of a TV. The machine is entering its operational death phase. Suddenly the lights go out, suddenly the whole building goes dark. The body, which was always visible, now has to become visible to the user. What will happen when the body becomes invisible? When the body disappears, something disappears. When the body disappears, a message has been received, a message. A message has been received. It has arrived. It has arrived. This body is receiving a message. This body is receiving a message. It's from me. It's from me. This body is receiving a message. It's from me. It's from me. I want to reach you. I want to reach you. I want to reach you

Tense-incoherent, the space warps to the black void. A computer virus mutates. Digitalization mutates the mind, and the eyes of the mind see all the while the other eyes. Blinded by eyes, a mad god sings from the lips of the dead. He comes down like a god, the black god of the last black mass, a god, and with his eyes on you, his eyes see you. And with his hands he reaches into you and in you, into you and in you, and through you and in you. Eyes watch you as a space warps, a mad god sings. A computer virus mutates.

DIGITALLY ENGAGED