The contraption on the desk sniffles. It coughs and spits. Beakers full of blue goo condensate, leaving curled rims on the cheap furniture. Birds play limbo with low slung power lines outside. The contraption wheezes as it watches. An immune booster is offered to the contraption. It’s turned down. Packaged wire, tied up in sections, lie next to the contraption. Venn diagrams close off. Grids glow. The contraption catches its breath, and the music stops.
More about: Sebastian Wolfe
