Genur.art

This is a polaroid of The sky above the port was the colour of television, tuned to a dead channel. All the speed he took, all the turns he'd taken and the corners he'd cut in Night City, and still he'd see the matrix in his sleep, bright lattices of logic unfolding across that colorless void. A seamless universe of self. Night City was like a deranged experiment in social Dar- winism, designed by a bored researcher who kept one thumb permanently on the fast-forward button. His eyes were unstable crystal, vibrating with a frequency whose name was rain and the sound of trains, suddenly sprouting a humming web of delicate glass spines. And in the bloodlit dark behind his eyes, silver phosphenes boiled in from the edge of space, hypnagogic images jerking past like a film compiled of random frames. Symbols, figures, faces, a blurred, fragmented mandala of visual information. Rain woke him, a slow drizzle, his feet tangled in coils of discarded fiberoptics. The arcade's sea of sound washed over him, receded, returned. Rolling over, he sat up and held his head. I’m not Wintermute now. So what are you. He drank from the flask, feeling nothing. I’m the matrix. A man running for his life Cyber, Punk, cyberpunk, near future, busy, ((dirty)), ((Smog)), Near Future, The Sprawl, Skyscrapers, Grey, Black, Pink, Red, White, bustling, criminal, graffiti, disrepair, wealth, squalor, cyberspace, port, harbour, tankers, acid rain, pollution, the fringe aidmaimageupgrader, PLRD, anime