by

Yanick Champoux (38%)

Lee Watts (18%)

Josip Nað (17%)

Michel Lacombe (16%)

Dorian (4%)

goldkngt55 (3%)

Andrew Avila (2%)

Marten (1%)

Oliver (1%)

Part 15

Dorian (15/11/2001)

Demuel eased his 'jack in to the port and the woman, the room and general reality was yanked away. A rollercoaster-like rush assaulted the man, regardless of the fact that he was no longer utilising the five senses he was born with.

A silent cacophony of virtual light burned directly in to his cerebral cortex, a symphony of dazzling beauty threatening to consume him in electronic euphoria.

Grace.

Falling..

Blinding darkness.

A thought:
thisisweird.
somethingiswrongwiththisjack

Void..

Then, suddenly, an island of data presented itself to Demuel. It tempted him with its glacial vista but it remained beyond his digital reach. A thing held him captive: it was unknown and unknowable to his mind. He knew what he wanted to do (what he had always done) but he just couldn't seem to make it work. Something about the software architecture of the reality he was in differed greatly to what he was used to. Certainly, the data files he wanted to access were a radically different thing: something far from man-made.

He was in the blackness of some artificial void and a sun-like island of pure information blazed heatlessly before him. He could sense no data pathways around him. He could sense none of the usual protocols to make things work, subroutines or programs constantly ticking over whilst he went about his virtual business. This was Wrong.

A thought:
fuckImintheshitthistime ...
thosevau.
fuck.
theymusthavereplacedthethinkmachinesoftwarewiththeirownprotocols.
imfuckinglockedinthisreality.
stuckinavirtualcellwithnowayout

bollocks