Like the knots of a large net, the megacities sprawled across the darkened landscape of the night land. Tied together with tethers of roads and wires, the artificial expanse was bathed in an invisible static field, a standing wave of interference that answered only to its own tempo.
Great antennae had been constructed from the electrical grid, the water system, and the hard carbon in the pavement. It consumed the meters, the switches, the valves, and the lights. It bound them all from the appliances to the moving picture screens and the tools of communication.
Far above the blinding glow of the megacities, aircraft and rockets released untold tons of nanodust. Some were synthetic imitations of life, others were circuits, and still, others were the noctilucent filaments. They were released every day, and every night, through great grey clouds, and thick globular trails that persisted in the sky. This blatant effort went unnoticed by the denizens of the megacities, who rarely noticed anything they were not told to put their attention toward.
Mike has always lived his life on the edge, without a safety net. He is not a traditionalist, although he values tradition. He is not a social maven, although he values a functioning society. In fact, anything you might think Mike is, he is not, thus he refers to himself as a nobody. His destiny has led him into the oddest of places, at the oddest of times. He is oft convinced that as in the Hymn of the Pearl, he is doomed to grope around in the dark, having forgotten who he is. His dream is remembering, and his writings are perhaps an ode to this process.
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