In the dimly lit loft, the hum of distant servers pulsed through the floorboards.
Kris stood by a window, silhouetted against a skyline of glowing corporate logos
bleeding red and blue into the shrouded smog. They turned a small, dull coin over and over,
its surface cold and lifeless.
“Is this freedom?” Kris asked, their voice a blend of whisper and defiance, gesturing
toward the sea of headlights creeping along the highway below: thousands of people moving
in eerie, synchronized harmony. “Or is it just a well-decorated cage, the door left ajar
just to tease us?”
Tim didn’t look up from a bank of computer monitors. The flickering lights of a hundred scrolling
data feeds danced across his glasses, masking his eyes in a static-filled glow.
A thin, cynical smile curled on Tim's lips as they tapped a rhythmic beat against the desk.
As long as the screens stay bright and the pixels seem enchanting, few will bother to
seek the truth,” Tim replied, his voice flat, drained of emotion. Leaning back, the chair
creaked in the stillness.“Who cares if the cage is small as long as the Wi-Fi is fast
and the dreams are vivid? People don’t want the truth; they want higher resolutions."
