Abstraction Protocol

Walled in. I knew this was a possibility, but never gave into the lackluster dismal option of it. Not that I hadn’t prepared, but, never expected a negative turn of events. I had it all worked out. I don’t care. Not for this situation, no, not at all. A trap, set up before I could have even thought, towards the endgame of an eponymous victory. Blocked in, and set to sit, now. It’s all a matter of memory and futurethought, now. Calm, and collected.

In restoring hundred year old digital technology, we’ve developed a special nano-liqiud bath, so that the pixelation is not visible to the decoder rendering that data. It was quite simple, really. We’ve recently heard word of an original file, but have not heard contact with the sender in over a week.

I do understand that something is lost with restoration, an inner vibration of seeing it how it was originally seen to the primitives. This is a type of thought. The original is preserved, though once you view it, you may find that the cleansed to a visual purity version is superior, and the original is best left to a museum. This is not the case this retellings, derivatives, they are withing their own subfiles, available with free access of perusal of the original. Wherever the source of inquisition.

It was funny, somehow, that the only way to reach people who wanted to know of you, was to to reach them through things they did not want. Only then, would they realize. Brainpatterns through the oraganic strands were so inferior.

It was when my logic and reason were in their final death throes towards insanity that I finally began to appreciate the people in my life.
To look for some sort of truthful happiness, that was the original insanity on my part, at war with biology. Fighting against the illogical enjoyment of human interaction, those who will inherently betray anyone given half a chance. Enjoy these animals on their own terms. Became too preoccupied in my own dealings to realize that they were part of my life, as opposed to violently rejecting them.
I had to give up, to give in, and simply let my body to what it wanted to. It wouldn’t matter anyway. Either way, this consciousness will shatter upon death, and return to the cosmos as the earth crumbles and the sun explodes.
Live like an animal, in their presence, suppress my overarching intelligence and superiority over them. Bide my time, take shelter in this new-found insanity.
No, they’d never know that my laughs or smiles were the signs of a mind finally beyond the cusp. I was gone. I was gone.
The datafiles made a terrifying map of consistence, life and unlife. We were still alive. Even digitally, there is no difference, one can see the strands of the universe within the brain, and even within the digital brain do they pattern themselves once more in every aspect. Now it is faster, and more resilient, with all the hope and aspirations of the past, the future has arisen from dystopia.

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