Rickety-rack rickety-rack goes the keyboard punches, escalating on through electric wire corridors connecting into boards and electro-devices, traveling within nanoseconds with systematic pulses spiraling toward the control processor, igniting double digit stealth signals across digital superhighways to spread out and gather back again in radiation form, breaking outside of machine world into a temple's gash, bio rain blinking in medicine from the cyber storm, light translated into thought, meta thought, subjected to elaborate equations of past experiences breaking into interpretation, screaming nerves blast compounded ideas throughout the central core, they arrive at last. Orgasm.

People move with silenced gesticulations painted on faces. Shoes always tied and double-checked, pace marked with collective stride. Words come out, sometimes worth hearing (mostly not). Flattery escapes through thin lips. The process of reading and recording the context of one's face begins, responding the same way, rinses, repeats. Shit tucked up in asses waiting for porcelain savior, garbage men empty roaches into insect nirvana, wakes the humans. Faucets churn out water and rust, teeth grind against miniature plastic straws, the fabric of our lives. Window lets in light from gas fireball to brighten room.

It misses a corner.
We all gather.

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