Cyberpunk Logs #01: r3c0nf1gur3d

Restart.
 
Hold your breath as the engine of a new day begins.
 
Step into the metallic sludge of yesterday and feel the radioactive heat caress your face.
 
It’s always day when the smoke covers up the daylight and there’s enough reflective light to make the mortals go blind, but that’s what you’re in for when you got that new metal arm and that new opportunity to live.
 
Where’s your game now?
 
The machines stutter to work. There’s enough grease and gears to be shared with everybody.
 
Ain’t nobody got time for blood when there’s no humanity left.
 
These codes are the testament to my soul, for I am a ghost that inhabits this hybrid shell of what was once me and what will never be me. And you know as well as everyone else does that we’re all doomed, so we might as well sink into the eternal glory of being re-used and recycled till there’s no last ion of worth left.
 
Those are the days we live to.
 
You don’t need laws for creatures bound by inflexibility and logic. The only thing that gets fuzzy around here is the boundary between day and night.
 
There’s nothing illegal. We’ve lost all interest in tasting the toxic because that’s what you and I, hardy citizens, drink everyday. It ain’t no sob story. It’s the only story. Because stories are all we have that brings us out of this everyday squelch.
 
You and I, dear friend, it’s people like us who cough up blood every day and become a little less human and watch as those that help us are metallic beasts wrapped in rigid rules and yet so amazing and so fantastic. Watch us become one of them. Watch them become one of us.
 
It’s a lovely world we live in.
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