Nine facets.
One act of resistance.
Blue light. Red light. She hangs. Binary strands cut into bare skin. No angel, no demon – just a remnant in between.
The dream of control – crushed by its own greed. The desire to be better. Faster. Painless. Who tied the first knot? Who pulls the strings?
Silence. The hum of processors. They hang like prey, stretched between algorithm and leftover warmth. Every attempt to escape ends in the next update. Efficiency pressed into the system, emotion patented. The rights to your happiness? Hidden in the fine print. Enthusiasm? Subscription only.
The human as mystery, farewell. Nothing escapes measurement. Feelings as datasets – secured, legible, reproducible. The great progress: approved, certified, insurable.
And yet resistance? Always. Even at the end.
One trembles. One lifts her gaze. Hope – an error in the code.
Being human is more than correcting a flawed creation. In every deviation from the norm, humanity steals its way back.
In the pull of blue cascades, a shy existence flickers.
And suddenly she stands there.
Your soul.
Neither deleted nor reset to factory settings.
Still not for sale,
still not fully graspable.
Despite everything.
Dance with the Devil.
A final flare,
before someone
turns out the lights.
