Arcane-tech: the fear of an impending hell.

By Luca Della Casa

[…] Network’s fault, lost in its wet guts,
arms, human flesh, drugs, terror—
I fuck Big Brother, I know how.
Google, Oracle, Unix, Windows, Java…
I’ll screw them all when I can.
No database resists me.
Just say where—I penetrate.
Me and my virtual pals, always ready, and horny.
Despising the crust of trendy pastime, fake sugar-coated messages, porn sites, social networks—I crawl in the slime, the network’s darkest essence, true reality.
Good cause? Good excuse:
hunt the scum profiting off human weakness,
gather secret intel, spread hidden data, ravaging systems.
Pedo maniacs are my favorite—why deny it?
But the lobby mafia thrill me dizzy too.
I crave them, track coded messages, sense them in the stream—behind fake innocent profile pics.
Multinationals, off-shore accounts, tax havens—all guilty.
I rot inside, hunting’s fury—
love them, hate them,
I’ll become worse to win.
Internet’s black hole swallows thought, will—
globalization’s nervous system, money, trafficking, prostitution spin.
This is my hell, my vice.
I’m a predator in the abyss.
Computer on, heartbeat races.
Connection lights flash.
I breathe deep, cold sweat.
Counter hits 0, press return—
Gone. Only the net,
my hate, and adrenaline.
Between connections, life blurs—
stretch legs, eat, shit, sleep a bit.
Sometimes I need real flesh,
not virtual.
Find a network friend,
alienated as me,
drown anguish in a spurt of cum, forgetting.
A scrap of a job keeps me here—
at the monitor, fingers flying.
Others like me lurk…

A TOTAL BLACKOUT approaches.

[…] The shaken news anchor stammered: all European communication was down. Satellites blind; even short-wave radio couldn’t pierce the metaverse’s black fog. No explanation existed.
I thought I could imagine how the movie would end. The apocalypse began with communication’s collapse.
Behind monitors’ hum, I sensed the plasma of information seizing Western systems. The American feed cut to white noise too.
I closed my eyes; my lids filled with a storm of numbers and symbols—a new cybernetic language. Would insects and machines inherit Earth? I felt alien, detached.
The waves’ hypnotic sway consumed me. The sea was Earth’s lifeblood, a billion years old. Humanity was nothing to Gaia, who’d seen volcanoes, asteroids, species, and civilizations rise and fall. She’d survive technology’s end.
Whether smart machines dethroned machine-like men mattered little in her existential economy.
Gaia’s end would come only when the sun turned red giant—unknown eons or moments away.
One law rules: the universe’s cycle of crisis, death, and destruction births creation and life.
The future? Likely grim—sow wind, reap storms. Our tech society faced isolation, dismantled. Were we ready for the final enemy of neural systems and deviant AI?
Perhaps isolation was a blessing. In introspective solitude, humanity might rediscover wisdom’s key. Maybe one day, it’d restart right.
I had no answers and, illogically, didn’t care.
Mesmerized, I watched white sails caressed by the breeze, inhaling these peaceful moments like they were my last.
Source Note: Excerpts from Arcane-tech: Shadows in the Machine 👇
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