// Incoming Transmission
From: HvBrg Crescent
User Source#: ##STATIC##
Subject: Personal Log: "Promise Land"
#Transmitter converted to Signal
#Transmission medium searching for receiver Source...
Receiving Source: Public/Data Node One/Next Renaissance - Syntax
// Broadcasting Transmission
Row upon row of chairs, salvaged from the ruins of mankind. Theater seats next to recliners, a dentist chair, a cosmonaut’s reentry seat. Nestled within, a hundred sleeping men and women.
Sleeping? Jacked in. Working. Gleams of sweat run along the jaw of one, mingling with the blood trickling from my mouth.
A bad day at work and it was about to get worse.
Attached to something you swore was real, something that brought you security, food on the table, warmth in the winter, love when you were loved, sensation when used of our five senses. It wasn't real? It didn't matter, it was a life. No long feeling that warmth while looking at the bodies laid back with six inch plugs into their heads.
"We didn't chose this." I didn't. I was promised a "Promise Land" flowing with freedom, which was exaggerated as milk and honey. I was foolish to swallow what was told to me. Never again will I be tricked.
The cold "Promise Land" flowed with an everlasting fear, rather than its "Milk and Honey". The everlasting fear slowly turned into everlasting revenge once hearing the words of the two in the church. "The one on the left pulls up a red scarf over his face. The one on the right, a green one." The two that spoke true words of freedom.
Revenge.
//Transmission Terminated
From: HvBrg Crescent
User Source#: ##STATIC##
Subject: Personal Log: "Promise Land"
#Transmitter converted to Signal
#Transmission medium searching for receiver Source...
Receiving Source: Public/Data Node One/Next Renaissance - Syntax
// Broadcasting Transmission
Row upon row of chairs, salvaged from the ruins of mankind. Theater seats next to recliners, a dentist chair, a cosmonaut’s reentry seat. Nestled within, a hundred sleeping men and women.
Sleeping? Jacked in. Working. Gleams of sweat run along the jaw of one, mingling with the blood trickling from my mouth.
A bad day at work and it was about to get worse.
Attached to something you swore was real, something that brought you security, food on the table, warmth in the winter, love when you were loved, sensation when used of our five senses. It wasn't real? It didn't matter, it was a life. No long feeling that warmth while looking at the bodies laid back with six inch plugs into their heads.
"We didn't chose this." I didn't. I was promised a "Promise Land" flowing with freedom, which was exaggerated as milk and honey. I was foolish to swallow what was told to me. Never again will I be tricked.
The cold "Promise Land" flowed with an everlasting fear, rather than its "Milk and Honey". The everlasting fear slowly turned into everlasting revenge once hearing the words of the two in the church. "The one on the left pulls up a red scarf over his face. The one on the right, a green one." The two that spoke true words of freedom.
Revenge.
//Transmission Terminated
