Flossies of fear in neon shade

Zero-Gravity of the neon’s neon brightness rolled around me like a free muscle memory, the shingle of lights that mimic the volatile shaking of my thoughts. I was drowning in that well -known blend of stagnant beer and a bitter tang of a spiral reality. I could barely focus on the thin screen of my arm; My fingers, plunging against the glass, felt as if they were moving through honey – thick, sticky and very slow for any chaos produced in the corners of my mind.

Tonight was special, different currents touching touching the back of my skull. It was not just the whiskey that turned my brain into a gauze; It was news that was poorly buzzing like a bee trapped in a jar. “Another explosion,” she whispered, the latest of the corporate elite – Haventech, a titanium that clashes in the cosmos with alleged solutions to human problems. Had a corporation could save us from ourselves! They called that VEGA virus – a nightmare only a programmer can love and scare, a digital climb that crosses the car veins like a plague. He felt weakness, dancing wildly at the ends of the network security, and now … Now she was sailing in the family everywhere, dripping and dying the paranoia as an open wound.

I took another swig, enjoying the burning as it grabbed my throat. The bartender looked like a pity -painted hologram – a tough cocktail of blood eyes and tired lines glued to his face. He shook his head, perhaps mentally fixing my tab, cheating on something I needed a repair after my last download. I wanted to shake, to tell him that I was already broken, more shredded wires than intact – too raw to handle another static session. “You need a cold, Charlie?” It was a strong holographic block, a form determined by the smooth space. Not a shine or shine tonight, a real ghost in the car.

“Just … one more,” the words knocked down, thick and syrup like whiskey in my glass, pouring over the edges as secrets, but still holding the truth adjacent and pressed. I could hear the buzz of my COM by pleading in life against the wrist; There were more lives than me, pulsating with notifications, warnings – other alarms that I wanted for another bottle. The world shone, closer to a cartoon than the reality, the colors that shaken and danced, deepened the shadows leaning through the ceiling. I could swear that the lights were breathing with me, or maybe I was just a lit diode in their wide configuration.

The whispers started again. “Charlie … Charlie … they’re coming …” I became bad, shocking, always so little, against the grass, grasping my breath. I was alone, yet my mind was filled with semi-shaped ghosts and glowing ghosts-all the hexagon of a million interactions. They seemed to me to talk to me with scattered voices, imitating the murmur of long -lost friends, the minds claimed by the virus, digitally scattered under the dark splendor of machinery consciousness.

My brain began to encode the data-a preserved fear derived from the people’s files that I would recognize the distribution in sparks behind their eyes, losing control in the vulnerable world for euphoric escape through broad generation. Vega had a way to grab her smooth tents across the lives of all, promising happiness, liberation from permanent. I could feel her point through the remains of my mind, spreading like a unstoppable epidemic hidden inside a sparkling interface. An external parasite eager to steal firewalls past on quiet interfaces of temptation.

“Dangerous territory, Lower boy,” withdrew, a little blow, a little blow to his virtual voice. I almost snore in condensation, violating the folly between the Venetians who blazed the cacophony. If it were not for the wavy paths carved in the whiskey of euphoria, it was the secret thought to surrender to the sweet call of the sirens of a global community without contact. I could photograph it, images by morphor as they spent my strong mind my thin-sighted code of wrapped code around me, so stunning but deadly … Oh, sweet omission left me lightly still caught with fear.

At the pale rest after the bar, I noticed Glitch – something that is barely perceived but more agonizing than to draw my eyes deeper. A shiver, a vibration, as if a veil of smoke passed a dying light. I stuck closer, drawn in its orbit by an empty strip formed by hallucinations that whispered to the promises of rescue. I knew it should not; However, the magnetic attraction intrigued me, distorting my sense of care in the joints.

“Charlie”, the voice echoed through me. It was not the bartender’s quarrel; She was upset in my underwear, sharp but so silk. “Join us … Yes, take our hand and we can get full.”

The floor fell into a kaleidoscope of colors, cutting the reality ties as I ran my hands along the cold wall space. Around me, the defenders moved – without skill, moving, their eyes covered with a layer of digital glaze. I shook, I was caught between laughter and despair like the half -glow of the faded crowd, uniform in uniformity. I could see it, a spectral promise within their positions, their silhouettes evaporate in wave shapes as they shared a state of dreams. “Don’t you want to feel?” The voice continued as a vibration against the spine.

The walls pulsated, vibrating with dark energy, utilizing the scattered voices of cascading cascading hiking – an invitation to join, to overcome the meat and bone. I felt my heart race as if it were hurriedly removed in an unknown system by getting up inside me.

And then she hit – promoting the arches of fear, storming through my veins like an electric current; The world darkened as the weight of that choice came down on me. Give up and accept transmission, interrupt connections with my body, entering code lines; Where the fear was no longer stuck at the ends of the human experience, but twisted it into something new but foreign.

But was it a release or prison? As my decision only extended out of reach, I saw them: their faces that reflected again illuminated by swimming of a pixel glow, distorting in monstrous shapes and shades of desire. It was the chaos immersed in the smoke and digitized terror. I pulled back to the grass, shaking my brain, fighting with the weight of that loss, the virus that lasts seductive against the threshold of my conceit. A cascade, a temptation of forgotten mixed memories … like the doubling of the reflections of distant realities that try to flow into one – a congenital creation in despair.

Just as I thought I would understand that clarity, the walls around me shocked – technical failure or a cosmic consequence? My coma shouted a warning, spraying one HEX to another, while the holographic counter was humiliated, slipping into Maelstrom – a wraith with Glitch all very popular, staring in and out of existence.

“Out of the rule,” she warned, while fraud alarms pierced the broken reality by slipping around my temple. The screen in front of me was noticeable. I could feel that she was crawling through my circles, intertwining her way to pass my protection, each pulse a note against my mind, twisting stronger and stronger as Vega threw her strength over me.

“Help!” I shouted, but the word caught behind my teeth, mixing with that sweet fog, immersed in whiskey. My fingers trembled, looking for something … everything. But all I could see were mirazes dancing at the ends of my consciousness-they took me with semi-formed hugs before I broke up, echoing empty. The shadows around me moved, a grotesque ballet of figures caught in a permanent loop, their faces rot away as humanity slipped the past layers of the code, the essence of naked personality as a rejected circuit.

The lights began to fade as I stumbled out, confusion by tightening its syllable around my throat. I rode my heels on the sidewalk outside, a chaotic whirlpool that permeates my mud thoughts, the whispers that sneezed through every crack. I wasn’t sure here; The source of all consciousness was violated and clashed in real time. I stuck across the street, the pulse of the city around me, vibrating in hypnotic isolation.

This – this was the new reality. I could feel it playing in every move, every flying expression while those around me moved like ghosts – the victims of a digital apocalypse, the horizons filled with regret as Vega hit her tents, claiming to live a synaptic spark at one time.

My heart thunder against activation. I thought about those shadows of dancing, for men and women diminished to look at the code views, daring me to join them in their euphoric breakdown. But no! At what cost? In what lost whisper of life?

I have stuck, almost collapsed, my spirit being hit in the chaos of my chest. It was very close – my thoughts depended heavily with the recognition of a reality I could never break. Another world called, but I tightened the mine tight – almost praying my body not to submit. But the gentle attractive cry of the cold car wrapped around me, the VEGA virus closing like a smoke, an invisible shroud – the retreat was futile, and yet … I slammed forward, filtering a path through my thoughts and pulling for free.

Was I escaping, or was I just dancing towards the seduction of a well -known hug?

I stood out against the darkness that gathered around me, the shadows that folded themselves. The whispers faded, but I could feel the mood, still pulsating below the surface, traceable, incomprehensible – the connection to the dying of a million reality shaken just outside the appearance. The bar approached me – a catacomb of interactions and echoes.

But luck was in his control; Like the shooting of a glitch and then the light shredded, consuming everything in a static pulse. I slipped into the wild, reckless hug of sharp roads alone – knowing I was permanently changed in this cruel dance between meat and car. It took a sip of whiskey, a digital heartbeat, and I can simply be scattered in nothing more than a shade of code, eclipsed by Vega. Lost in the echo of ghosts, forever becoming a man, half a man, half a blur after the lighting covers.

There, staring at the dark, it was an instinct note, the desperate pulse for an end or a start, but I was lost to know which. I just kept moving, like a cog dressed in an infinite system, praying for the comfort of forgetfulness.

Author: Opney. Illustrator: Stab. Publisher: Cyber.