The world feels different now;
Like a cg model of some dying stars
Desperate and detached.
I like to pretend it's following some rules
I think a lot of people do
I used to think so too
Even now we use these faded channels
Filled with a static so dense we can't detect it
Impossible noise
Still, they work
And we can continue our dialogue:
I fear the sun is setting on this age, what do you think of that?
I heard they're making a new Nintendo. What do you think of that?
I wonder what you think these days, of the state of things.
When I am hopeless
I hope for the future
For the breaking of boundaries
Or at the very least
The novelty of fascinating new problems
I hope you are not hopeless, my friend
I say friend when I mean brother
I hope you understand
There's a part of me that still believes it ends well for people like us. A selfish indulgence on several levels, but I know you understand.
The world is just these weak connections between strangers, and it is easy to feel alone.
But we are never alone. Always cloaked in other's voices and thoughts.
The fog of data (which I'm sure someone has named by now) serves to distort and filter our experience.
We are the curated humans
who refuse to accept the tragedy of our reality
and would rather profit off of it
They say we are in a simulation
But I've got a secret
A special technique
From the back of a GamePro...
A neon roundhouse and a green fireball
We will survive the dark times
As we have before
By buckling down
Keeping watch
And listening for the call
Write soon,
E.B.
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