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271 romanticallyapocalyptic.com

ENTRY ___271




Getting atomized into dust was inconvenient. Truly, I wasn't much to begin with.



A meandering boob propped up by a memetic copy of my clothes, infused with a billion viruses written by Good Directorate copyright protection algorithms. Even now, these viruses illegally clung to the save Point System keeping me in some sort of data-limbo.



...What was I, really?
I was strings, waves, information, reflections of reflections, echoes of echoes,
living memories of a dead man named Charles Snippy...



I was a copy of his dreams, his desires trapped in the data-cloud...



...a resonance in the fractal machinery of the stars that held together the Universe.



Unlike my flesh-body that was constantly targeted by and plagued by vengeful apps,
I was connected to everything, able to examine my own depths, and thus I glimpsed her...



Annie, the fractal network that ran everything everywhere, sentient clockwork of information across existence,



perpetually expanding into herself, perpetually stretching into infinity.



A school of viruses flowed into each other, writhing, looping around me,
intertwined, hungry death, ready to exterminate everything in their path.

“Uhhh… 117?”

I thought to them.

“...Can we like re-spawn or something?”



The weaponized memetics resolved themselves into my Nekkomewtrix.



“You think this is a game?
Your juicy ass got vaporized out of space-time.
Zappo. No more Charles the human anchor.”




She spoke, casually floating on a set of pillows amidst the fractal starscape.
She was right. There was nothing left of my flesh.
No warmth, no heartbeat, no breath, only memories and thoughts.
This was a concerning development.

I anxiously searched the fractal info-space for anything to hold on to, anything at all that I could grab.
Across the vast ocean of information, I spotted a warm star that felt right.



I reached out towards it and my info-ghost hands passed right through it.



I focused on its connection to me, and suddenly, my hands wrapped around the avatar of my pet rock.



“Sup dawg?” The pet rock said. “Arent'cha dead or somethin? Pretty sure yous xploded.”

“Vector of information injection found. Petrock app, registered to Charles Snippy.”
Nekkomewtrix purred, flowing into the rock's data-cloud.

“eeEEEK HALP!” The pet rock buzzed. “I'm being memetically violated!”

And then, I was the rock itself, lodged in dry mud,
amidst broken blades of grass into which the explosion's blast had flung me.



I suddenly noted something of great value.
I was sitting in a living, organic ecosystem that extended all across the Moon's interiors.

“Enough games, let's devour the Moon.”

I set the Biomatrix in motion, releasing the viruses into the physical world from the pet rock app.
They immediately arrayed themselves into a broadcasting tree of flesh.



Yes, the Moon machines would pay dearly for the damage they've done to our precious Tour Guide jacket.
From the flesh-tree, the viruses spread across the field in an instant, via roots, flowers and blades of grass, consuming, infecting, interconnecting... liquid disgorging from the ground to form my personal angel of bloody vengeance as I had imagined her.



Air shimmered with electrical arcs as the ground warped and mountains shattered as we set to reformatting and shaping flesh under our command. In no time at all we had all organic life under our control, just as the Biomatrix had done to 116 other planets...



Forging a factory of flesh, our absolute dominion.



Within its safe walls it was time to wake up as the real me... as Charles.


Credits


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Music by:

Oggy B

Art contributors:

Anupatten
Merkerinn
Mr Lemo
Serial Number


28th March 2019

Tagged in Gromov Bee Snippy Biomatrix
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