

They Didn't Like How I LeftThey didnt like how I left, but its ok, they wont matter soon anyway. I jump the stairs and hop into the streetlights, out of the shadows the zombies glare at me with glowing yellow eyes, not real zombies just people who act like zombies, work all day and then in a stupor of exhaustion mill around towards their destinations. Ignored, I head to the nearest bus-tram station and get onto the 10:00 towards Greytown and fall asleep in the seat. But at least Im headed home. B-8-G-3-4-D-7 access granted chimes my door and whooshes open, I feel the cool clean ionized air waft out and up into my nostrils, the lightsThey Didn't Like How I Left


Age of FuturismI knew we had finally reached an age of futurism I saw with my very own eyes, a tourist bus in New York filled with Buddhist monks, and while they were stepping out, I noticed one of them holding meditation beads, and as a pendant a USB drive. What did he keep on that drive? Was it some text file with various chants on it? Was it flyers for their next fund raiser? Or maybe they are an elite group of super hackers posing as Buddhist monks secretly starting the next revolution which at this point happens every half an hour. The only currency that matters any more is favors, favors and your name. Your name has value, and it gets youAge of Futurism
Joy
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