![]() His Visuals, the neural-optical interface that projected images in three dimensions directly onto his visual cortex, flooded his view with data on translucent virtual panels. What am I doing? Someone else can save Azure, right? He wished he could avoid adapting to his newfound emotions of anxiety and doubt. He paused, petrified at the rising dust cloud. The impacts shook the earth under his feet. In the distance, the tree fragments whistled and crashed into the ground. Those around him donned their best outing attire, perfectly shaped and colorful polymer sundresses and suits, in addition to their smiles and unshakable happiness. Having commuted and sprinted for hours, he straightened his blue polymer Azurian jacket. He slowed to a jog as he approached a crowd. Bright red explosions highlighted the clouds. The fragments broke through a layer of clouds and thumped against the tree’s sloped crystal-white facade. In organized lines, millions of people were walking away from the burning structural fragments plummeting from a nearby tree, a five-thousand-kilometer-high conical archology. ![]() Paul Benedict sprinted on a smooth grass field as sleek outbound trains zipped beside him and transport ships thundered above. HE WAS THE ONLY UTOPIAN traveling toward danger. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |