# sci fi editor and compiler's log 12:55 sbt standard bass time nightstalker by kenji kawaii now plays in the lab background about to enjoy a big data dump and read a free local business magazine picked up last week from a stark white aluminium rack at the station we selected this publication because the hypercorporation mockup art for the business park inside was a potential half life videospace level but with blue-grey ash faced 'deaders' last night however was a 'hard work' scenario we were in a large anonymous run down part of vmg-909 megacity at night repeatedly smashing the rotting undead over the head with an useless awkward lump of metal it would stop the deaders chasing us but ir crusty desiccated heads simply refused to crack apart no matter how hard we walloped them we awoke feeling knackered and unhappy - also known as 'unhapkered' a vegetarian pizza's on at moment and we're d-loading the following from local nets 'painkiller black edition' / 'a touch of zen' criterion edition / 'heavy metal comics' collection monday 12th 13:35 sbt got this odd wilhelm data cube last night and was watching it as part of a healthy nutritional mind breakfast it's interesting and resonates with our own ongoing research into kate and therefore what it's all about generally a sensually chi potent humalien singing about a fellow researcher who felt in every fibre of ir being the neon blue bioelectrical pulse of the polyversal life principle everywhere at once this entire liquid multiverse as alive and sentient and everything we've known is part of it and vitally deeply connected ever since we used to play alone in the deep woods near our house we've felt this intrinsic hyperorganic biopsychedelic alien connection to 'all things pfloyd' to consider this constant unconscious search for instant intrinsically mindless entertrainment a deeper search for truer sustenance - for authentic meaning the realer sense of true community and living roots true sharing and non-virtual hyperorganic interrelationships it implies jerking to 8bit poly-gonal croft when in honesty all seeks is z underscore real but so far all one seems to ever find at the dead end of wired digital utopian bs is more of the same old digital ashes and ever more soul draining 0/1 trivia to waste away endless unwashed milkbottle days and repo-intense electronic jungle nights to often feel strong vital urges to unplug from matrices; get a far realer sense of living far away from constantly messing around with / in computers // republic of bob