Giving myself up to fate, I feel networked communications bring different people simultaneously in collective thinking by making them all enter in the same suspended field of networked activities.The time-frame of this suspension is different from the time-frame of the private mind's thought. It is extended time, hence accommodating pressure leaving me like steam rising from a fresh corpse.

Trying to find a way home from the other side of the river, i look for a bridge to cross. When i finally come upon one, it's entrance ramp is very steep. High overhead, the bridge bends and comes to an abrupt end. From below, I watch hapless cars struggling up the grade, only to fall off a little further on.

When there is nothing to lose, Brain drops its tarnished shield, and with its sword of intellegence flashing, rushes forth onto a nonsensical field while cleaving a murderous wind.

The hero doesn't advance from pride, but submits to a grand hormonic gesture.

 

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