I’ve reincarnated in another part of the city. At least that’s how it feels. I can’t explain it. Nobody seems bothered by the fragmentary nature of this reality in which we find ourselves. The shifts in space and time. I’m not talking about life in general but of this specific moment. It’s sequential connection to the next. Notice the architectural symmetry of the buildings. If you focus just right, you’ll see the optical error of the scene, the triangular strokes generated by a design based on the Kanizsa perceptual illusion.
This city is not real!
Not in the sense that I expect anyway. There are no quaint cafes, as it appears, no glowing lampposts, or mysterious alleys in the night. There is no history or referent culture. It’s a city made up of phantom code stored in a distributed network. A mad logic disguised as order. Even the text is indecipherable, for goodness sake. Linear strings of binary processing. Yet nobody seems bothered by it. They just go about their day as if it’s nothing out of sorts.
Is all this normal? Who am I to question reality? I should not torture my head thus and just accept my place in the scheme of things.
No!
I must find a way out.
I must find the woman with many faces.
Dive Deeper
Iteration 1
Iteration 2
Iteration 3
Iteration 4
Iteration 5
Iteration 6
Iteration 7
Iteration 8
Iteration 9
Iteration 10
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