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Just dive into this over-lit abyss where the gadgets you have wished for ages pulse like digital tenticles in the dark. Entangled by the hum of wireless veins connecting you to the infinite maze where mice confess secrets, headphones drown the endless drone, and it beggars belief the cocophony of noise from the periphery. Illusions of freedom stay a flick of a switch away.
Tap on the tactile hammers of mechanical keys, each keystroke a flutter in an interconnected summicron. Screens ablaze with colors that bleed and morph, turning the whole world into a fiendish cybernetic nightmare.
External drives —tiny vaults of chaos— hold your digital heartbeat, while hubs and ports are neural gateways, bridging worlds with a simper of electrons. Data disappears like sanguine through the clouds of your existence.
Smart homes breathe and shift —machines that are cognisant, that respond with every nanosecond, transforming your personal dungeon into a surgical entity. Doors zap open, thermostats shuffle, security systems coalesce like digital infiltrations in the dark. Your house is a living, breathing digital octupus.
Earbuds slice through the static, noise-canceling shields bring the unnerving chaos inwards. Web cameras survey your very essence in 256 million crystals —a sprawling avatar in the infinite digital panopticon, your presence emitted to oil the gears of a colossal machine across the world a whistle short of real-time.
Wearables choke filtering air, tracking every simple step —miniscule companions filtering data in your journey through the psychic hell, an epithelium keeping you captive in electronic darkness.
The veins of a new consciousness, wired into the fabric of a venerable myth belay in this hybrid digital-human state that we are only human fodder — permeating through oblivion.