(Writers Block)

Fuck, fuck, my print-all is broken. Agh, guess I’ve gotta go to a vendor for cigs & CyberPoppers™ this morning. A jacket & some kickers, this excuse of wear is good enough. It’s only e-junk district after all. What & the fucking lift is broken! A broken lift in 2779, what’s next, no hologram hookers for the week? 

Can the fentheads stop lying across the whole staircase like its their bed? Digital christ! Is that //Ædd1zu*]? Shit it is. His neotats r looking vibrant for a folder. All neon green & purple. Wonder who inscribed them? Bet he bought that neck piece with brain tissue, same way he got his calves done. Eh, I’ll kick him. I see the burnt tinfoil subsuming him. Shit his eyes look rough, glowing but barely open… is one missing? As I squint, he recognises me. 

A sedated “/X1/?” escapes his chapped, resin coated lips. 

“As sure as the adverdreams, //Æ.”, we knock the combination of wires, circuit board, flesh, & bone that trace our fists. 

“ቴና ይስጥልኝ, my friend, how’s the dyson sphere + satellite belt treating you?”

“Sky’s as dark as ever //Æ.”, our cheeks climb. I exhale, 

“Guess you’d know it in this musty stairwell. Tf don’t you work for accommo  somewhere?”, //Æ screws his face, disclosing an untreated burn wound beside his ear. 

“Work, what fucking work?” 

“You know full well only crypto around here is from cygangs…”, he scratches a crimson crystallisation down his forearm, 

“Robbed too many of em. Fuck else would I be… in e-junk… otherwi-”. He’s looking down, I’ll lose him to a nod any second.  

“//Æ”, 

“//Æ!” 

Bet he’s seeing a blue sky, warm sun, feeling fleshy corporeality impressed on wet grass. For fully augmented cyber vertebrae, that’s a grim resting posture. His feet look infected with that new nanovirus, extracts your body fluids & sells em to pharma-gov. At least that’s what Öh”ruSD said. Wonder how xae’re doing. Heard the netcops were ‘debugging’ airbrushers. Cyberspeed to xem.  

The face scans to get into stores will never feel mellow. Not with my record. Did I pay my subscription to NoTraceÓ? Fuuuck, did I? Only difference between me & an organ vessel is that cursed subscription. 

“Andale, I’m trying to quantum gamble here!”. 

Can that dude shut up. Nah I need the cigs, I’d have paid. Scanning…98%… come on…99%… what’s that hum? 

“Hombre, that cloud of drones for you?”, 

Fuck, Fuck, FUCK!