Previous / Back to Index / Next

From the Microcosmicon, 4:

Among shiny towers of data he surfed. Spambots attacked him. He dodged. He fired back. He surfed on.
He reached the Control Chamber. Doubts crept into his mind. But he pointed his gun at the motherboard. And shot.

He reopened his eyes. He was at home. Outside, no towers of data. Only rotting, overgrown buildings. Screams of irritation everywhere. The illusion had ended.
Instinctively, he tried to stand up. Then his eyes fell on his atrophied legs.

He sighed, wheeling himself out into the real world, where everyone was alone, and everything was messy. They could start anew from there.

MQS