the burning  

the implant had dark-grey finish and it was difficult to see the point where polymer gently morphed into his dark tattooed skin

he seemed proud of the job they did at the clinic and I wasn’t surprised he was. it seemed like a good job indeed.

I touched the patch on my arm and wondered how does a direct link feel like

there are moments when I imagine I can almost feel it

I know it’s not real and having no artificial parts inside my body I couldn’t even read the logs he’s neural enviro files in real time

but I knew all too well the coldness of some nonorganic matter that is very real when engaging full sensory interface

the organics call it “the choice” or “spirits” or “purgatory” and a doorway to embrace singularity…

it is a controversial topic but …

fuck, I’ve seen what happened to wingnuts! you don’t get your brain blown out through your eye sockets just by thinking about controversial ideas …

Athenians needed poison to have Socrates kick the bucket and wingnuts died on my very own eyes just by hitting … nothing

or its virtual representation

that’s what I’ve been told and was expected to believe in

bullshit

I’ve seen what happened there

even though I fell and got disconnected I remember very well the wave…

and the pull…

and the hold…

and then the burning!

fuck!

the burning!

I wanted to crack my skull open just so I can scrap my own brain out from the inside.

god knows what i would do if the photographer wasn’t there to stop me from hitting against the wall

talk about religious experiences

I wonder what Moses would say having his own brain fried and being spoken at by a virtual representation of a tsunami instead of seeing a dry bush catching fire in the middle of the dessert?