You V gen

Cool Cement...as if it just rained, in the night

The air is hardly present but breath is easy. Transparent medium filling you with clarity. You are wandering again.

A town square with only three sides. The fourth, where you came from, now a membrane beyond which is a space, altogether different. You are wandering against form and for a moment she is a town square , streetlit from somewhere, a job

You wander like bacteria, or a moving tattoo, in dark recesses of complexity that often make you want to scream. Scream, cry, but this is survival. Veining territory, as appearance bleeds to overflow and moves you.

For a moment you are here, watching. Everything is slightly too small, working on something which plays like a stage, not quite a stage. The three sidewalks are lined by shop fronts. Fronts for something illicit. Sue a few modes of being.

Glass cased dioramas, dropping into nothing behind (which you imagine as arid white medium, more lost than lost). From this side they become almost planar, floating yet slicing through ground, with the violence of a diamond dispersed and reorganized into an icy clear sheet of guillotine. Looking still by weight of the cement, the incomplete square, appearing to be context.

Dense color seeps into the haze of the street.

In each of the shallow spaces people act their merchant parts absolutely and perfectly. Smiles. playing in the shallow space

Glittering garments surrounding themselves with dress sellers. She sees their lipsbleeding and cracking from the pressure in their hermetic tanks. She always feels the invisible stuff. Love their magic. interior giggles supply and demand supply and demand supply anc demand

Just like the full blown shope that have inventory and are encased in malls, here just encased, here, like you, tc expose. with a heartbeat. change your skin for a fire or a snapshot or some looting

Total transparency.

Illusion merchants are great for that. V consumes witt vision, learns and moves. YOL buy illusion but you are artifice. She knows that everything is real.

Some one is here. Over there it the street near the far wall. It sweats without motion, thicl and heavy, grimacing. Then it walks , trying to give itself gravity, mimicking mass, as ij in a sand storm of soporific density. Movement agitated abrubt. Frustration.

you are standing right in front of it now and it is trying tc strangle you

you are a secret

It is named Tercom, after a military device, Terrain Contour Matching.

Maintaining an inital design, it detects, by form only and destroys anything else. It is angry with the nature of this space. Matter exists in a precarious state in its mind, as a kind of apparition, its memory confirming only outlines with certainty. Substance fills the form for Com, preciseley in its moment of attack, as if to plead guilty

and require destruction, leaving it with the feeling that its function is tragic yet neccessary. completing the circuit Here, the floating shop fronts mock this memory, hinting at trickery, impractical, evoking for it accusations of falsity , as they continue with seamlessness and the appearance of efficiency. invisible infrastructure. More smiles. Com can only make it false. Never been given the intelligence to know artifice, to see itself in it. Thinks its been given extra sensory devices. Reality firmly strapped to its boots, it embodies humanitarian defense strategy which amounts to pounding the shit out of things because theyaren't 'real'.

an archetype that doesn't know it.

Here it is in a box, can't do anything with the fourth side where the membrane is without any edges.

She ducks and scrabbles low to the ground performing acrobatics and a chase, around bollards, trying to keep it from getting into contact. You watch it lunge blindly at its form as she mutates to anaemic. Once there is a slip. Com's hand moves right through her arm as she moves sideways. heat -rises. Not. directenough to force it to see, it blocks and gets angrier, closed in towards boiling point, short circuit, blow out.

She knows that if she allowed it to strangle her it would pass right through her neck.

Its hands, it will be clenching its own. clenching its own madness

can't allow that

V glares right into the apocalypse. Apocalypse was fine. She always liked things bright and dark and it didn't seem to be going away. History to you, long low wailing, her virulence, moving through things, going ^unnoticed, singing.

Your facility to play dead or laugh won't work here.

play dead laugh leave a false name

If Com finds its madness by touching you it will transfer to an authority which will verify your lockup in their kind of oblivion, or suicide. Hers is still illegal, seeping witch­craft allegations. you are just atmosphere whose function is to denote feeding mute, intense, your fear, pulsing with desire, you know other spaces where you feel

turned here immensely strategic. It was beginning to feel like a job. Being numb means she may as well be dead use the matching, backwards elsewhere. tuned in to counter transparent desire, She moves as phage ribbon, looking for its blind spot and sensing the space behind her, she rolls in.

There were four of them, or two or six, at a long low table.

everything was tabled White collar bored room executives, led by shop fronts. fronts for computer. Ties and scarves in cold coffee. humming.

She moves across the room and they smile distractedly without looking up. Moving to the comfortable chair, unseen. They didn't see such things. They were in Control.

They scratch at the backs of their necks to a viral rythym, detecting some dust in the atmosphere. Oblivion. Com moves in and stops. It shifts slightly as it sees them not see her, but wonder what it wants here, looking up in a bored sort of way- inquisitive gesture roots it to the halt. No longer can make sense of what it was attacking. And its heat drops as time slows and it tries to keep walking as the night becomes longer. somewhere. She watches it slowly go pale. blind machine, it begins to hear long low wails of desperation coming from inside. It hates them, in a way, but can't attack here. It glimpses you now having done something else, illicit and excessive,

that looked like nothing at all.

what is this complicity here they are fair authorial suits. Why can't it act? front for illusion at the core of its being. Doesn't know what to do without a target. Can't attack an invisible target. frozen in front of acrobatics

It is given a combat troops drug - supply and demand - supply and demand-urges. Doesn't I what to do with this % pull from somewhere it never touched a piece slow shock wave. You se signal moving through a h low bone cavity and its mi cle screamed impossible first and it closed its ei tight but dark shadows k( moving across as it tr to maintain panic - thou< as its process melts it cavities. doesn't know wt to do with becoming physics

another being within a gun.

is this love ?

madness slips in. everyones madness.

They get so focused on t inventory, backed by mal'. killing eachother, shooting

rapidly. Surrounding themsleves with dress. Are people acting their part absolute. Com becomes den able. history to you in its wailing. It felt the tram parency of the shallow spa( Glittering garments of a st folding in on itself. You move back to the fourth side.

Cool Cement...as if it just rained, in the night

The air is hardly present but breath is easy. Transparent medium filling you with clarity. You are wandering again.

A town square with only three sides. The fourth, where you came from, now a membrane beyond which is a space, altogether different. You are wandering against form and for a moment she is a town square , streetlit from somewhere, a job

You wander like bacteria, or a moving tattoo, in dark recesses of complexity that often make you want to scream. Scream, cry, but this is survival. Veining territory, as appearance bleeds to overflow and moves you.

For a moment you are here, watching. Everything is slightly too small, working on something which plays like a stage, not quite a stage. The three sidewalks are lined by shop fronts. Fronts for something illicit. Sue a few modes of being.

Glass cased dioramas, dropping into nothing behind (which you imagine as arid white medium, more lost than lost). From this side they become almost planar, floating yet slicing through ground, with the violence of a diamond dispersed and reorganized into an icy clear sheet of guillotine. Looking still by weight of the cement, the incomplete square, appearing to be context.

Dense color seeps into the -haze of the street.

In each of the shallow spaces people act their merchant parts absolutely and perfectly. Smiles. playing in the shallow space

Glittering garments surrounding themselves with dress sellers. She sees their lipsbleeding and cracking from the pressure in their hermetic tanks. She always feels the invisible stuff. Love their magic. interior giggles supply and demand supply and demand supply anc demand

Just like the full blown shope that have inventory and are encased in malls, here just encased, here, like you, tc expose. with a heartbeat. change your skin for a fire or z snapshot or some looting Total transparency.

Illusion merchants are great for that. V consumes witt vision, learns and moves. YOL buy illusion but you are artifice. She knows that everything is real.

Some one is here. Over there it the street near the far wall. It sweats without motion, thicl and heavy, grimacing. Then it walks , trying to give itself gravity, mimicking mass, as ij in a sand storm of soporific density. Movement agitated abrubt. Frustration.

you are standing right in front of it now and it is trying tc strangle you

you are a secret

It is named Tercom, after a military device, Terrain Contour Matching.

Maintaining an inital design, it detects, by form only and destroys anything else. It is angry with the nature of this space. Matter exists in a precarious state in its mind, as a kind of apparition, its memory confirming only outlines with certainty. Substance fills the form for Com, preciseley in its moment of attack, as if to plead guilty

and require destruction, leaving it with the feeling that its function is tragic yet neccessary. completing the circuit Here, the floating shop fronts mock this memory, hinting at trickery, impractical, evoking for it accusations of falsity , as they continue with seamlessness and the appearance of efficiency. invisible infrastructure. More smiles. Com can only make it false. Never been given the intelligence to know artifice, to see itself in it. Thinks its been given extra sensory devices. Reality firmly strapped to its boots, it embodies humanitarian defense strategy which amounts to pounding the shit out of things because theyaren't 'real'.

an archetype that doesn't know it.

Here it is in a box, can't do anything with the fourth side where the membrane is without any edges.

She ducks and scrabbles low to the ground performing acrobatics and a chase, around bollards, trying to keep it from getting into contact. You watch it lunge blindly at its form as she mutates to anaemic. Once there is a slip. Com's hand moves right through her arm as she moves sideways. heat -rises. Not. directenough to force it to see, it blocks and gets angrier, closed in towards boiling point, short circuit, blow out.

She knows that if she allowed it to strangle her it would pass right through her neck.

Its hands, it will be clenching its own. clenching its own madness

can't allow that

V glares right into the apocalypse. Apocalypse was fine. She always liked things bright and dark and it didn't seem to be going away. History to you, long low wailing, her virulence, moving through things, going ^unnoticed, singing.

Your facility to play dead or laugh won't work here.

play dead laugh leave a false name

If Com finds its madness by touching you it will transfer to an authority which will verify your lockup in their kind of oblivion, or suicide. Hers is still illegal, seeping witch­craft allegations. you are just atmosphere whose function is to denote feeding mute, intense, your fear, pulsing with desire, you know other spaces where you feel

turned here immensely strategic. It was beginning to feel like a job. Being numb means she may as well be dead use the matching, backwards elsewhere. tuned in to counter transparent desire, She moves as phage ribbon, looking for its blind spot and sensing the space behind her, she rolls in.

There were four of them, or two or six, at a long low table.

everything was tabled White collar bored room executives, led by shop fronts. fronts for computer. Ties and scarves in cold coffee. humming.

She moves across the room and they smile distractedly without looking up. Moving to the comfortable chair, unseen. They didn't see such things. They were in Control.

They scratch at the backs of their necks to a viral rythym, detecting some dust in the atmosphere. Oblivion. Com moves in and stops. It shifts slightly as it sees them not see her, but wonder what it wants here, looking up in a bored sort of way- inquisitive gesture roots it to the halt. No longer can make sense of what it was attacking. And its heat drops as time slows and it tries to keep walking as the night becomes longer. somewhere. She watches it slowly go pale. blind machine, it begins to hear long low wails of desperation coming from inside. It hates them, in a way, but can't attack here. It glimpses you now having done something else, illicit and excessive,

that looked like nothing at all.

what is this complicity here they are fair authorial suits. Why can't it act? front for illusion at the core of its being. Doesn't know what to do without a target. Can't attack an invisible target. frozen in front of acrobatics

It is given a combat troops drug - supply and demand - supply and demand-urges. Doesn't I what to do with this % pull from somewhere it never touched a piece slow shock wave. You se signal moving through a h low bone cavity and its mi cle screamed impossible first and it closed its ei tight but dark shadows k( moving across as it tr to maintain panic - thou< as its process melts it cavities. doesn't know wt to do with becoming physics

another being within a gun.

is this love ?

madness slips in. everyones madness.

They get so focused on t inventory, backed by mal'. killing eachother, shooting

rapidly. Surrounding themsleves with dress. Are people acting their part absolute. Com becomes den able. history to you in its wailing. It felt the tram parency of the shallow spa( Glittering garments of a st folding in on itself. You move back to the fourth side.