The rain had turned to pus again, severed heads screamed down from the massacred heavens. I thought a virus had gotten into my V.R. window projector again. Last time it did something similar it had no sound, just the visuals of every photo I'd ever taken being eaten by this gigantic leech-like thing that pretended to be breaking the glass too.
This time it was different. This time I could hear the rain, hear the chaos on the street below as the heads collided with ground and person alike. I could smell the iron in the air mixed with the sickly stench of pus as it stubbornly clung to my window.
Usually I'd switch it of and run the auto-clean program, fixing everything and resuming my scenic view.
This time I turned it off and nothing changed.
Nothing changed at all.
This time it was different. This time I could hear the rain, hear the chaos on the street below as the heads collided with ground and person alike. I could smell the iron in the air mixed with the sickly stench of pus as it stubbornly clung to my window.
Usually I'd switch it of and run the auto-clean program, fixing everything and resuming my scenic view.
This time I turned it off and nothing changed.
Nothing changed at all.
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