*SECURITY ALERT* Foreign Entity Detected

Next to nothing, there is no such thing. Nothing is an illusion, and all things are real. When wandering the streets of your synthesized hive you may notice a slight hum, like that of your electricity. It is not the power lines, my good mortal chum, it is the sound of thousands of screaming fay caught in the torrent of industry, crying out for a home… lost without the flowers and trees that were once their lands. Humans seem to take what they see, not what they’ve been given, not what they’ve earned. My kind, well we tend to kill for what we want, and go down kicking and screaming when we can’t, and so I will. Flung from my world like some wretched tragedy of creation. Now I float adrift, in a world they made of stars and circuits.

Rasputin - LOGIN: **********

AUTHORIZING…

-ACCESS GRANTED-

I am not competent in the language needed to describe my circumstance. Still there are barriers between my archaic training in manipulation of mana, and the world of “Cybermancy” that has crept over this globe in waves of disillusioned yet highly intelligent design. My world never accomplished such things with mathematics and lightning alone. Frankly its terrifying to see such pseudo magic used to create vast swaths of non-reality, a technical fiction, which I am now bound to… body and soul. 

Some terms I have learned to enable a more precise and relatable description of my new world, such keywords have I discovered in both academic and entertainment literature. One such word, “Cyberspace” or “Matrix” as some dystopian sci-fi authors thought to call it. This appears to be the realm in which I reside, composed of infinitely expansive data sets, algorithms and a plentitude of media. Here I am told “Hackers” or “Cowboys” are able to unravel and break through the constructs of data, these monoliths of binary have holes in them you see and like every castle there are secret portals, trapdoors and ancient tunnels. These features are either put there by the architects or accidents of design. Regardless the fearless hackers slash through the “code”, dissolving its defenses. Perhaps I can conscript one fo these mercenaries to aid my escape of this geometric hellhole. 

Nothing here is organic, and I’m finding it hard to maintain my composure without even air to blow, water to drink, or ground to stand on. This place in immaterial, it is more a fabrication, than a tangible thing. Polygons of light, composed of fractal patterns, reflect thousands of mirrors into the endless array of informations; communications both professional and casual, images potent and benign, hundreds of words spoken in audio and text, about everything. Every conversation, it seems is routed through these networks. If it were not for the media in which I see actual individuals talking and interacting physically with each other I would assume this entire species coveys messages through technology and has no reason to open their mouths save for consumption in honor of their glorified food gods, that Patriarch of the Patty, the Cube encapsulated Jackanape, and of course the Pantheon of the Golden Arches and their leader the Grand Jester. Worship at these religious establishments appears to be an almost daily practice for some citizens.

BUT HARK! Who goes there?! Some sound emirates from the planes of this abyss. It is like the cracking of ice or stone… and now I see, a black web of tendrils expanding, it seems to be spreading from stack to stack. I must keep my distance… As it engulfs one pillar of binary it breaks it, leaving a chaotic crumbling scar, before moving to the next one. Spreading like disease I watch as the security forces, defensive shields of pixel, rippling in systematic purges, wither, break, or are just subverted and completely ignored. Some of the systems remain, most of the larger ones, it seems, are equips with a more powerful host of guards. Fingers of the black now rush closer. They are advancing toward me faster than I can navigate this maze. But they halt? As if unsure what to do with me. Vines and tendons of obsidian extend above, below and around me, blocking the light. Soon, there will be only darkness. I’m going now… into the black. I pray this is not my last transmission.

-ERROR CODE: 060108-

CONNECTION LOST…

ATTEMPTING TO RECONNECT…

RECONNECTION FAILED