revachol

There is nothing. Only warm, primordial blackness.

Your conscience ferments in it -- no larger than a single grain of malt. ㅤ

All recollection of the person you are, the people in your life and even the world you're in has drowned in a sea of binary code.

This was no mere night of coding, it was a deluge.

Of world-ending proportions. ㅤ

"Wait, shouldn't I have a flag or something?" (Check your pockets.) ㅤ

BEGIN ㅤ ㅤ

author: neonlian

flavor text adapted from ZA/UM