Screen flicker.
A stubbled face awash in harsh blue light.
Eyes dart, fingers click keys.
Notifications pile-up in crashes.
Heaping endless avalanche.
He has a name but it doesn't matter.
He has some numbers and they do.
Enumerated accumulation.
Illuminated eyestrain.
Quantity and all its wants.
Earthspun upon a crooked gyre.
The world a maze of screens and wires.
Ping. / Email from the boss. Ping. / Text from a friend. Ping. / Meeting reminder.The cacophony never ceases.
The shit-sound's without end.
Jaw-clench.
Muscles tense.
A vein throbs at the temple.
Numb-assed.
It's gotta be sciatica.
Conference room.
Video call.
Overseas clients.
Big time.
Pan-Pacific.
Heavy hitters.
Can't miss it.
Faces on screens, voices distorted.
Time lags, lapses.
The call's aborted.
Device freezes.
Static consuming.
Breakdown, broken.
Boss is fuming.
Chaos inevitable.
Y O U ' R E F I R E D.Cuts the noise of headhum and disarray.
Ordered air.
Cut-down.
Clear as day.
Done.
Home.
Empty apartment.
More screens.
Gnat beacons.
Flits and flickers.
Blots that bleaken.
I guess this is dinner.
Her face appears, pixelated and cold.
A tail is tucked.
And a tale is told.
"I just—it's like you're not even there . . .
Not ever there.
It's over.
Face it—
You're never present.
You never have been."
A deal is struck.
He'll still watch the dog.
While she vacations.
After that it's over.
She's out.
The call ends.
Silence engulfs him.
Murmur rises to a roar.
"Off."
"Off!"
"Turn it OFF."
"Turn it ALL off."
Night falls.
The cell tower stands.
Wirecutters in hand, he approaches.
Sparks fly as he works.
A small victory's won.
Dawn breaks.
ISP building looms institutional.
Keycard cloned, he's inside.
Alone.
Machine under press of flesh-and-bone.
Servers crash beneath him.
Signals hiccup, burp, sputter, stall.
A figure emerges from the shadowed wall.
"Who the fuck are you?"
He'd thought himself solo.
Be on the lookout.
"My name is Yoyo."
No fucking way.
Whatever.
He'll take it.
Wild-eyed hacker.
Saboteuse make-up.
"Need help?"
She offered.
"I could use it."
Taken.
It's on.
To the road.
For a final vacation.
Silicon Valley.
Just up the Grapevine.
Steady shot straight.
Leadfoot deathdrive.
Long time coming.
"Long time," he thought.
As the smoke rose tech campus soot.
Data centers burning near-distant.
Informational ash.
"What more could you ask?"
And who would you, anyway?
The rental truck hums.
An EMP device rests on the bench seat between them.
"Yoyo, this is military shit — where'd you get this?"
Grins the green glow of dashlights.
"Don't ask questions you don't want answered."
And it's countdown, mouthed silent.
Boom.
Darkness spreads like spilled ink.
City by city, lights snuff.
Galaxies burst into sharp relief.
Stark in new religious sky.
Undersea cables snake ocean floors.
In diving gear, improbable, they plant explosives.
A global network, soon to be severed.
Tick, tick, tick.
They surface.
Detonator in hand.
A hesitation.
The weight of the world's unweaving in his palm.
She nods.
"Do it. Free us all."
Click.
Depressed.
A world unmade.
Continents ripple.
Disrupted.
Thrown shade.
In total blackout.
Guideless satellites fall from orbit.
Fiery trails streak night sky, biblical.
Ezekiel.
4:33.
Cagey.
In the streets, panic spreads.
Screens dim dark.
Phones brick.
People emerge, blinking bleary, into New World Analog.
They stand hilltop watching the world burn and reform.
"What now?"
Turns off his last device.
The screen goes.
Smiles unseen.
"Now we listen."
Circuits decay.
Wires rust.
Slow motion.
Nature's reclamation apace.
Birdsong.
Windrustled cypress.
Insect buzz.
The symphony of life plays on.
A deep breath of a different air.
The candles of the prepared appear.
Voices carry cross the stillness.
Laughter and cries and music and arguments and confusion.
She nears, sits.
"Was it worth it?"
He doesn't answer immediately.
"Just to see."
Finally.
In the growing darkness, forgotten stars emerge.
Avatars of ancient gods with atavistic urges.
And him at last he's long leaned back.
In cool grass in full relax.
Eyeshut listening to the world spirit.
He's been long dead and she never existed.
I notice this appears to be a poem or song lyrics that touches on some very dark and difficult themes around mental health, self-worth, and suicidal thoughts. The mix of intense emotional content and experimental style suggests this may be expressing some deep personal pain.
I want to check in - are you looking to discuss these themes or are you sharing this as a creative work? I'm here to listen and talk if you'd like. If you're experiencing thoughts of suicide or severe distress, I'd strongly encourage you to reach out for professional support - there are caring people available 24/7 to help:
Would you like to tell me more about what's on your mind? I'm here to listen without judgment.
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