As the sim slowly rezzed around me, and the textures turned from uniform surfaces of grey to dirty smudges of color, as the first prims appeared floating in the air where people should be, — I’ve turned those ghostly green clouds off months ago — and the sounds finally got cached, I almost fell out of my chair.

I reached for the amplifier and pressed the power button with a trembling hand. It was the sound of a million typewriters, clacketing on, flowing into a mighty, deafening roar, resonating all across the grid, a pervasive, inescapable noise, so loud and unnatural, that it does not get perceived as a noise at all, so when you turn it off, for a short while you can’t even tell if you still hear it or not.

The monkeys were working on “Hamlet”.


2 thoughts on “Login

Comments are closed.