// RECOVERED FRAGMENT //
SOURCE: Sardonyx Dossier (Black Bunker Recovery from 3.1)
AUTHOR: [REDACTED] // Voiceprint matches García, S. & Hunt C. (87.4% fidelity)
REFERENCE: Xenosis.glitch.me
TIMESTAMP: [ERROR: CHRONOLOGICAL DRIFT DETECTED]
CLASSIFICATION: XENOWAR / DA-784-X (SELF-ITERATING HAZARD)
[ERROR: DESIGNATION CORRUPT]
⊗Surround the disease with a line⊗, said the voice— to prevent its spread, draw a line around it. I never thought I’d suffer from a dimensional ailment [DA]. The ganglia basal inflammation is the first sign. Muscle spasms are an initial symptom. Seems like the sky is also ill. —it never stops making fire fall. Explosions are fresh meat for the K-Sync screen. The subterranean ones sound like a subdued-blurry-buried pumping heart.
I wonder if colliders can be unstitched if configuration errors can be found. At times, the vertices cram and generate weird compressed images. I underline my eyes every time I see them. It makes me feel sort of dozed, with a metallic taste in my mouth. Fractal thoughts are invasive: 𝑝(t)= p (ray.position = t * ray.direction) logarithmic spirals N (noise[ix], noise[ix+1] , x-ix) noise formations of flashback proportions, an intense sensation of larvae hitting against my hidden anisotropic memories.
I kinda get used to these nonsensical sensations, In fact, I enjoy thinking how it’s produced—I try to copy the details in a quick sketch with my fingers in the air. My hands scribble with schizophrenic movements like my father’s, I’ve forgotten his name, I barely remember who I am. I have no choice but to drop in calm state and draw, concentrating in the texture makes me feel good. I could stop to draw, but guess what happens? I get sick, leaking blood thru my nose, so I have no choice more than making 𝑓(graphs) and threading the ex nihilo pattern. The line is sunken, a snake den, its impersonal stroke obsesses me. I hear:
—So much data for__, so much lack of speech for__. So much training in following the sequence, so much diluent running inside.
The echo says:
So much data = anchoring… with no speech ~∑↔! Internal diluent. T[n]=∑_i(S_i∇T_i)+Φ(t)−∂(Δt). Wrapping around with the line, slipping off in __, no longer__alone.
I notice a salamander emerging from the bushes. I pointed it at her with a flashlight, she became so microscopic that I felt her in my cells, draining an ultraviolet saliva and scanning my fascia lata. An irresistible sensation of touch overwhelmed my fingers, I felt cold, slimy, deliciously hydrated (//humidity gills//) A black, mucus-like ink oozes from my fingertips with a sucking sound. I rub it with my index and thumb, a blister forms, the egg with no shells, the place where the larvas grow and hatch.
The salamander climbed up with a wavering manner[Z-axis], its nocturnal eyes communicated with chemical signals to my prefrontal cortex through the directions of what it had been looking for [Z Freq]. __??? My impulse is to join the extremes line, the erratic draw, come among the enormous sleepless jungle.
The amphibian fell from the branch it had climbed. I tried to catch it with my palms, but it pierced through my hand, turning it translucent and cristalline. I try to take out the transparency lumps with a spatula. (380×10−9m of wavelength alpha can be perceived) the gelatinous thing [C₁₃H₁₆ClNO₃] releases a nostalgic shine. It looks like a thousand sticky faces. And me? I have no face, salamander has already eaten my identity. I become thin, Giacometti’s drawing of penetrating gaze. Do I disappear completely?
*(void*); excised
from 1nt1mat3 point, ferrous blood clinging to the shell
T(n)=𝑒^-λ²/2σ²! Z+Qx=(x1,x2,…,x784
our vision ignores what we are able to see
the temptation to get tangled tore apart guts
To push, to crowd ciphers
threading it as a secret weapon
No way. I’ve been part of STRANGENESS? That video game where you follow up virtual points of a dispossessed body/___/ a sort of female body, but also anyone who devoured oneself and become vector. God… I know that I know, there’s no more orders. Pisses me off. My reality is… is… is weakening. I’ll be waiting for this chance since a while, sketched over months, right? Am I here? How is it living far away from war. Miserable you. Should I be possessed by these lines? Let it take me with no regrets? Everything is falling apart, parts leaving me. Cracked parts meticulously rendered on screen, tracing my spinal cord to make me look amphibian, I’m fragmenting, these are not human thoughts. Something curving my north, I laugh, I want to accomplish my target, the geometric space between daydreaming and the present perfect tense [shoot] I mean, what is the reason for this illness right? In the middle of the picture is the secret symbol of relief.
A shape comes in a new shape, and that shape is already becoming something else. This is how real time K-sync stream works.
I’m wondering if my colleagues are contaminated by the dimensional disease too, this leishmaniasis fever x = (x1, x2, …, x784) exuding abundant toxic smoke. We are a mess. Should I have been more explicit? I did my best coupling the squadron, I wish they were hearing the sound I heard, seeing the mayhem images. The memory F was formed by perlin noise, homomorphic filaments multiplying virtual pure points. FFF. I mean it, my tears mean it.
I swear to god I saw a salamander and not the Spot robot we use in the field. The salamander was eating my face. She spoke at the same time as she chewed my face, saying:—There shouldn’t be coherence. Dreaming. O(n^d). Frec Z. The simulation shuts down with another simulation.
Perhaps I’m about to connect the line and complete the fucking circle, remember, what I’d hope to finding in the first place was the end.