Technobabylon

https://youtu.be/cxNPkqxKFC4 Technobabylon – Suicide City, Part 4 Next: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wd8TN_Gg_io&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=14 Intro: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFQCVFoVKQk&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=1 CEL Headquarters. When I step onto the floor, Max is already in the Trance—eyes unfocused, posture rigid, hands twitching slightly as she submits and updates case files at machine speed. She doesn’t look up. She doesn’t need to. I address Central directly. I ask about the aerostat. Central responds immediately. There are no records of such a vehicle. No radar confirmation. No air-traffic data. Nothing matching that description was ever in the air. So that confirms it. Someone high up in Newton is scrubbing reality in real time. Erasing records before they even have time to settle. Central is still a suspect. I’ve never known it to lie—but I can’t rule it out. Not if someone has found a way to hack it. Or worse, steer it. Central informs me that we are now directed to pursue alternate lines of inquiry. “Sure,” I say. I already know I’m right. And the longer this goes on, the more the gaps prove it. I pause and look around the office. The hum of systems. The quiet efficiency. The things we’ve uncovered. The things someone doesn’t want uncovered. My eyes drift to Max’s wetware setup. It’s… excessive. Cables run through opened floor panels. Modified junctions. Hardware no standard CEL agent would ever be approved for. Central allows it—for reasons it’s never explained. Other than the mess, I don’t complain. Max gets results. Better than anyone else. Rules bend for results. I sit down and pull up my t-mail. First message: suspicious. Desperate subject line. Lives depend on it. Yeah. Right. Probably an attempt to hack CEL systems or my personal data. Central usually filters this garbage better. I’ll flag it later. Next message: Medical. Another push for wetware upgrades. Same argument as always—performance, efficiency, future readiness. I don’t need wetware. Analog has worked just fine. If they ever phase me out, so be it. They won’t. Not yet. I’m still useful to Central. Even if we don’t like each other. Another message confirms payment for my balcony garden went through. Good. I need that place sometimes. If that ever disappears… I don’t like thinking about that. A couple of warnings from Central. One from Van Der Waal’s office. Nothing new. Then— Dr. Weissmal. Baxter is free. They put a governor in his brain. Supposedly prevents violent thoughts. Prevents revenge. As if you can firewall a human soul. He killed my wife. He should be rotting in a cell. Instead, some bureaucrat found a way to repurpose him for “cutting-edge research.” That’s how Newton works. Nothing is wasted. Not even monsters. I close the message and reopen the Mindjacker casefile. Again. Looking for something—anything—I missed. Still nothing. No clear pattern. Not yet. The news feed is quiet. As usual. Finally, I bring up the photo. Me and my wife. Viksha. Her smile still hits me the same way every time. Brilliant. Warm. Alive. Gone in a single day. When I close my eyes, that’s what I see. Not the crime scene. Not the reports. Her smile was my anchor. Now all I have left are the embryos we created together. I haven’t used them. I don’t know if I ever will. I don’t know how to be a father without her. I don’t know if I deserve to try. “I miss you every day,” I whisper. I clear the image and turn to Max. “What do you think we do next?” She disconnects from the Trance and exhales slowly. Says the only real lead left is Van Der Waal. Someone with that kind of influence doesn’t move quietly without knowing something. She offers to reach out. Set up an interview. Good. He and I don’t get along. Until then… there’s nothing to do but wait. And that’s never been my strength. #Technobabylon #SuicideCity #CyberpunkNarrative #CharlieRegis #EliGreen #MaxLao #ArielleSiegel #CentralAI #SkyeRebel #CEL #WadjetEyeGames #CyberpunkDetective #EliGreen #ArielleSiegel #SkyeRebel Technobabylon,Suicide City Part 4,cyberpunk narrative, Charlie Regis,Eli Green, Max Lao,Arielle Siegel, Central AI,Skye Rebel, CEL headquarters,future noir, Wadjet Eye Games,AI surveillance,conspiracy

https://youtu.be/Wd8TN_Gg_io Technobabylon – Suicide City, Part 5 Next: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AJArJfKbseg&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=15 Intro: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFQCVFoVKQk&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=1 I walk the halls of HQ, checking doors, glancing into offices, looking for anyone who might have turned up something useful. Anything about the Mindjacker. Anything I can work with. Most doors are locked. People are either buried in their work or already out on a case. No idle chatter. No loose threads to pull. Just the quiet efficiency of CEL doing what it always does—responding after the fact, pretending that’s enough. With nowhere else to go, I check back in with Central. I don’t expect much. Even if something new has surfaced, I doubt Central would share it with me. Maybe with Max. Not with me. We talk. Nothing concrete. No new locations. No fresh predictions. But I do manage to corner Central into admitting something important: given the level of precision and professionalism involved, the Mindjacker’s targets are not random. So there is a pattern. And Central still won’t tell us what it is. Central reminds me—almost defensively—that Max and I are primary data sources. Field validation. Ground truth. But we are not the only sources. The others are classified. Classified. Why? Why keep this from us? What data is so sensitive that two CEL detectives aren’t cleared to see it? What is Central protecting—and from whom? Something doesn’t sit right. And now Central isn’t even pretending otherwise. Either something is wrong with Central… or Central is being forced to reconcile two conflicting directives. Protect the city. Obey the people who run it. If those two goals collide, I know which one loses. Max and I are supposed to see the whole puzzle. That’s our job. Unless Central doesn’t want us to solve it. Unless the solution points somewhere inconvenient. I need to stop thinking about it before I start drawing conclusions I can’t prove. So I head to the waiting room. It’s a temporary holding area. Drunks. Chem addicts. Trance burnouts. People who can’t go back into public yet, but don’t belong in a cell either. We’ve also used it as protective custody—somewhere to park someone who’s been targeted until we can move them somewhere safer. Tonight, it’s quiet. Too quiet. One guy sits slumped against the wall. Picked up last night. Possible contamination in his wetware. Medical will take a look when they get a window. He hasn’t said much. Barely looks aware of where he is. Other than that, the room is empty. No shouting. No pacing. No breakdowns. Just the low hum of systems and the sense that this calm won’t last. It never does. #Technobabylon #SuicideCity #CyberpunkNarrative #CharlieRegis #EliGreen #CentralAI #SkyeRebel #CEL #WadjetEyeGames #CyberpunkDetective #EliGreen #SkyeRebel Technobabylon,Suicide City Part 5,cyberpunk narrative, Charlie Regis,Eli Green, Central AI,Skye Rebel, CEL headquarters,cyberpunk detective, Wadjet Eye Games,future noir,AI surveillance

https://youtu.be/IFQCVFoVKQk Technobabylon – Mysterious Man and Woman Talking Next: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ee1BMSpud2Q&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=2 Intro: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFQCVFoVKQk&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=1 A blond man stands on the sidewalk, motionless, staring out across the city as if it were something already decided. Towers of light and steel hum beneath him. Traffic passes. Drones glide overhead. None of it seems to register. He turns and walks to the edge of the road. Hands in his pockets. The posture is casual—almost thoughtful—but his eyes betray something colder. Calculated. Expectant. He pulls a small device from his pocket. With a flick of his thumb, a holographic projection blooms into the air. A call connects. On the other end: the silhouette of a woman. No features. No location. Just a voice. She says she’s certain now. Latha Sesame. Known in the Trance as Mandala. Someone has been actively masking Latha’s digital footprint. Not erasing it—redirecting it. But the pattern is wrong. Too deliberate. Every remaining thread points back to the same conclusion. “She’s the one,” the woman says. The man’s jaw tightens. Then—suddenly—he winces. A sharp, invasive pain tears through his skull. He steadies himself, breath hitching for just a moment. The woman notices immediately. “The headaches,” she says. Not alarmed. Not sympathetic. Concerned only in the way a planner worries about a variable. “They’ve been happening more often. But they are improving.” He exhales slowly. Regains composure. “I’m fine,” he says. “They’ll be gone soon.” The woman pauses, as if assessing whether that answer satisfies the plan. Then the call ends. The hologram collapses into nothing. The man steps back toward the edge of the sidewalk, overlooking the endless city. Central’s glow pulses faintly in the distance, unseen but ever-present. Out loud—only to himself—he says: “I’ve been planning this for years.” Hashtags #Technobabylon #Cyberpunk #Narrative #VoiceActing #EliGreen #CrystalLonnquist #ArielleSiegel #Trance #CentralAI #Newton2087 #CEL YouTube Tags Technobabylon, cyberpunk, narrative, voice acting, Eli Green, Crystal Lonnquist,Arielle Siegel,Trance,Central AI,Newton 2087,CEL,Latha Sesame,Charlie Regis,Max Lao,story scene,mysterious character

https://youtu.be/ee1BMSpud2Q Technobabylon – Prisoner of Consciousness, Part 1 Next: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ymu1-FAiRVU&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=3 Intro: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFQCVFoVKQk&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=1 Mandala floats within the Trance, arms extended, her form suspended in a gravity that exists only by collective agreement. Her face is serene—almost reverent. Here, she is unburdened. Here, she is complete. The Trance is not a place, she reflects. It is an agreement. A world built of abstraction and intellect, of tangible thought shaped by will alone. Every structure, every sensation, every boundary has been authored by the minds within it. Crafted, refined, perfected. To Mandala, this is the purest form of human contact. Millions of consciousnesses joined, not by flesh or proximity, but by intent. This is the pinnacle of achievement—not machines, not cities, not Central itself—but the surrender of isolation. There is only one flaw. The Trance still depends on the real world to exist. As the thought settles, something breaks. The Trance fractures without warning. A violent discontinuity. Mandala’s form shatters into static— —and she drops. She snaps back into her local machine, breath catching as the weight of embodiment returns. The room feels smaller. Heavier. Wrong. “Don’t panic,” she tells herself quietly. “I’ll just go talk to the building manager.” Nothing to be afraid of. She stays connected. News feeds—dead. No connection. She tries sports headlines next, a category she’s never cared for, just to justify remaining here a moment longer. Nothing loads. Email scrolls past her eyes. Messages without urgency. Without meaning. Time stretches. She walks the perimeter of her virtual space, aimless. Stalling. Every step a delay tactic against the inevitable moment when she must disconnect completely—must return to the physical world. The meat space. “Ugh… meat space.” Finally, she sits up on the edge of her bed. Muscles tense. Breath shallow. Bracing herself for gravity, for walls, for doors. For a world that insists she exist within it. #Technobabylon #PrisonerOfConsciousness #CyberpunkNarrative #Trance #Mandala #LathaSesame #CrystalLonnquist #VirtualReality #PsychologicalSciFi #WadjetEyeGames #CrystalLonnquist Technobabylon,Prisoner of Consciousness,cyberpunk narrative,Trance,Mandala,Latha Sesame,Crystal Lonnquist,virtual reality,psychological sci fi,Wadjet Eye Games,story driven gameplay,inner monologue,consciousness,meat space

https://youtu.be/ymu1-FAiRVU Technobabylon – Prisoner of Consciousness, Part 2 Next: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7M47m4tVc4&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=4 Intro: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFQCVFoVKQk&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=1 Latha disconnects from her local Trance server. “Better go talk to the building manager,” she says out loud, even though the idea of talking to anyone makes her skin tighten. She moves to the door. It doesn’t open. An Access Error flashes across the panel. Then a Password Error. She tries again. Same result. She attempts to contact the building manager through the internal communication system. Nothing. No response. No signal. The realization arrives quietly, slipping past her defenses before she can stop it. I’m trapped. She has always preferred the seclusion of her apartment. The isolation. The controlled silence. But the thought of never being able to leave—of isolation becoming permanent—hits differently. Heavier. The panic begins to swell. Slowly. Patiently. To keep herself from spiraling, she starts to look around. An old trophy sits on a shelf, its surface dulled with age and neglect. A large floor drain dominates one corner of the room, designed for easy cleaning. Exposed fiber-optic cables snake along the wall. Soggy food lies abandoned on the table, leaking onto the floor where she left it days ago. A window offers almost no view of the outside world—just more sconto apartments stacked endlessly across from hers. The food machine hums quietly in the corner. Its meal selections are terrible. Always have been. Hey… there’s an idea. Maybe getting something to eat will give her something to do while she waits. Or while she thinks. Or while she panics later. The machine dispenses a plastic tray. A plastic fork. That’s it. “Ugh…” she mutters. “This crappy thing is probably clogged again.” Now that she’s out of the Trance—now that she’s actually paying attention to the meat space—she realizes she’s hungry. Really hungry. And of course, now the machine won’t work. Nothing seems to be working today. The memory module slides out of the machine. Useless. Not like she can do anything with it right now. She heads into the bathroom. Her project waits for her there. The wetware tank glows faintly. Ready. Growing her own wetware has been worth every penny. Worth giving up the use of the bathroom entirely. She carefully removes part of it, leaving the rest to continue developing. Maybe I’ll need this later, she thinks. Somewhere outside. If I ever get out. A pile of city-issued clothing sits in one corner of the apartment. Cotton-paper blend. Disposable. Designed to be mulched and recycled into new garments. No washing required. She hesitates. Is that stuff still growing under there? “Euch… no.” She shakes her head. “Not looking.” Disgusting. She checks the drawers under her bed. Nothing useful. She recycles the plastic tray and fork. No need to keep them. She kneels by the floor grate and tugs at it. It doesn’t budge. “It’s stuck,” she sighs. “Even with tools, I probably couldn’t lift this.” She sits back, frustration creeping in again. Being stuck in this apartment sucks. But maybe the building manager will come by soon. She pauses. Actually… do they ever just come by? #Technobabylon #PrisonerOfConsciousness #CyberpunkNarrative #LathaSesame #Mandala #CrystalLonnquist #Trance #Isolation #PsychologicalSciFi #WadjetEyeGames #CrystalLonnquist Technobabylon,Prisoner of Consciousness Part 2,cyberpunk narrative,Latha Sesame,Mandala,Crystal Lonnquist,Trance,isolation,psychological sci fi,inner monologue,Wadjet Eye Games,story driven gameplay,cyberpunk apartment,meat space

https://youtu.be/L7M47m4tVc4 Technobabylon – Prisoner of Consciousness, Part 3 Next: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fUrZw28l-yg&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=5 Intro: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFQCVFoVKQk&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=1 The tension keeps rising. Not all at once—slowly. Quietly. Like something tightening around my thoughts. Well… I can’t escape down the floor drain. I mean, it’s more than large enough for me. Easily. But one of those stupid safety features the city keeps forcing on us. Reinforced. Sealed. Locked down so no one can hurt themselves. Treating us like children, I think. Just because we can’t get jobs. My chest feels tight now. “I don’t know what to do,” I mutter. “The door won’t open. I can’t call anyone. I can’t get food.” I glance back at the food machine. Why don’t I try again? Maybe it’s unstuck now. Maybe I can at least eat while I’m trapped in here. I press the panel. Nothing. “Shit.” Same result. A plastic tray. A plastic fork. I stare at the fork. “…the fork.” It’s a stupid idea, but it’s an idea. I kneel by the door panel and wedge the plastic fork into the seam, twisting it carefully. Crack. It snaps in half. “Shit! Ugh…” I slide down the wall and sit there for a moment. “Nothing is working.” My stomach growls. Loud. I glance at the soggy food on the floor. My face twists. Not yet, I tell myself. I’m not that desperate yet. But if I’m locked in here for days… I shake the thought away. Another idea surfaces through the noise. The wetware. If I can interface directly with the door—if I can override the lock— I move faster now, connecting the wetware to the access port. The security interface resolves in front of me. A knight. I blink. “…a knight?” I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Seriously?” The figure inclines its helmeted head. “I am the Residential Security Mediation Avatar,” it says calmly. “My function is to explain access restrictions, prevent unauthorized tampering, and provide guidance during security events.” “Great,” I mutter. “Then open the door.” “I’m afraid I cannot do that.” “Why not?” The knight doesn’t hesitate. “The access denial is not administrative,” it explains. “The door’s physical locking mechanism is unresponsive.” I frown. “So… it’s broken.” “Correct.” “Then override it.” “I cannot override physical failures,” the knight replies. “I am authorized only to manage software permissions and procedural compliance.” I stare at it. “So you’re telling me,” I say slowly, “that you exist to explain the problem—but you can’t actually fix it.” “That is an accurate summary.” I laugh. Once. Sharp. Bitter. “Of course it is.” I disconnect from the interface. The knight vanishes. The door stays shut. The room feels smaller now. Closer. Like it’s leaning in. And the panic—no longer patient—presses closer with it. #Technobabylon #PrisonerOfConsciousness #CyberpunkNarrative #LathaSesame #Mandala #CrystalLonnquist #JessicaPepper #BennyBenedetto #TranceWithdrawal #Isolation #PsychologicalSciFi #WadjetEyeGames #CrystalLonnquist #JessicaPepper #BennyBenedetto Technobabylon,Prisoner of Consciousness Part 3,cyberpunk narrative,Latha Sesame,Mandala,Crystal Lonnquist,Trance withdrawal,isolation,psychological sci fi,inner monologue,cyberpunk apartment,security avatar,Wadjet Eye Games

https://youtu.be/fUrZw28l-yg Technobabylon – Prisoner of Consciousness, Part 4 Next: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pPyGQ4hEPzM&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=6 Intro: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFQCVFoVKQk&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=1 The tension keeps climbing. It doesn’t spike—it presses. Like the walls are slowly deciding how close they want to be. The security knight was useless. Which means this is physical now. I need to physically open the door. The plastic fork broke. Maybe the trophy will do it. Or the plastic tray. I swing the trophy against the panel. Nothing. I slam the tray against it. Nothing again. “Great,” I mutter. “Both useless.” My thoughts start looping. I don’t know what to do. I really don’t know what to do. The food processor still won’t work. All I can do is slide the tray in and watch it spit it back out—empty. No food. No error message. Just quiet refusal. The drain won’t open. The door button does nothing no matter how many times I press it. My chest tightens. Breathe, Latha. Breathe. There has to be a way out of this. Some part of the security I can override. Some physical weakness I haven’t noticed yet. My eyes drift to the bathroom. The wetware. Another idea forms. Desperate, but sharper than panic. What if I use the wetware on the food processor? I connect it. “Yes!” I gasp before I can stop myself. It works. The interface comes alive. At least now I can get food. Something. Anything. Of course, the system immediately blocks me from creating metal utensils. Newton Civic Housing Services classifies that as a safety issue. Too many suicides, apparently. Their solution: plasticware only. Still treating us like children. The processor’s avatar materializes and cheerfully informs me it will continue to function without me making changes. I pause. Without her… If I get rid of the avatar, maybe I can finally override the restrictions. Maybe I can make something metal. Something that might actually work on the door panel. Now that’s a direction. A real one. The food processor’s avatar introduces herself. “Cheffie.” She looks like a bad anime character. Oversized eyes. Overly enthusiastic gestures. Someone, somewhere, thought this was comforting. “They really should’ve workshopped these avatars better,” I mutter. Cheffie and I talk for a long time. Longer than I expect. She patiently explains what she can make—only what’s on her recipe cards. Nothing more. Nothing less. No server access. Everything in my apartment is still down. She’s polite. Friendly. Completely useless. But now I have something better than panic. I have a problem I can work on. And maybe—just maybe—a way forward. #Technobabylon #PrisonerOfConsciousness #CyberpunkNarrative #LathaSesame #Mandala #CrystalLonnquist #JessicaPepper #BennyBenedetto #isolation #PsychologicalSciFi #WadjetEyeGames #TranceWithdrawal #CrystalLonnquist #JessicaPepper #BennyBenedetto Technobabylon,Prisoner of Consciousness Part 4,cyberpunk narrative,Latha Sesame,Mandala,Crystal Lonnquist,isolation,psychological sci fi,inner monologue,food processor avatar,Wadjet Eye Games,cyberpunk apartment,Trance withdrawal

https://youtu.be/pPyGQ4hEPzM Technobabylon – Prisoner of Consciousness, Part 5 Next: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bJYRSWuqLLY&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=7 Intro: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFQCVFoVKQk&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=1 The tension keeps climbing—but at least now it has somewhere to go. I have a problem. A focus. A target. Cheffie. If I can get rid of Cheffie, maybe I can finally get food. Maybe even something metal. I slide the memory module back into the food processor and bring her up again. Cheffie materializes instantly, smiling far too brightly for the situation I’m in. We talk. Again. She runs through the same list of foods she can make. The same recipes. The same restrictions. Still no metal utensils. Still no actual food production. The machine hums, ready in theory, useless in practice. I sigh. I disconnect and try something else. I bring up the security system again. The knight appears—towering, armored, calm. Exactly as unhelpful as before. I explain the situation. Again. He listens. Patient. Polite. Completely detached. His function is unchanged: protect the apartment from hackers. He doesn’t seem to register Cheffie at all. No awareness. No overlap. As far as he’s concerned, she might as well not exist. I stare at him. Now if I could just get you to take that giant axe and smash Cheffie… The thought stops me. “…wait.” I tilt my head, thinking. What if I could make him see her as a threat? He’s a knight. Sworn to protect. To eliminate danger. If Cheffie were flagged as hostile—unauthorized, malicious, destabilizing—would he act? Would he destroy her? The idea settles in my mind. Not comfortable. Not clean. But tempting. Something to think about. I disconnect. Back to brute force. I smash the trophy against the door panel again. Nothing. I try to recycle the trophy—hoping maybe I can break it down and get something metal out of the process. Denied. I scan the room again. Slowly. Desperately. Looking for anything. Any overlooked tool. Any weakness. Any mistake in the system. Nothing. I talk to Cheffie again. She’s cheerful. Helpful. Oblivious. She talks about recipes. About the company. About nutrition metrics. About things that don’t matter. None of it helps. I cut the connection. “Nuke it,” I mutter. There has to be something else I can do. I close my eyes and press my fingers to my temples. Think, Latha. Think. #Technobabylon #PrisonerOfConsciousness #CyberpunkNarrative #LathaSesame #Mandala #CrystalLonnquist #Cheffie #JessicaPepper #SecurityKnight #BennyBenedetto #Isolation #PsychologicalSciFi #WadjetEyeGames #TranceWithdrawal #CrystalLonnquist #JessicaPepper #BennyBenedetto Technobabylon,Prisoner of Consciousness Part 5,cyberpunk narrative, Latha Sesame,Mandala,Crystal Lonnquist, Cheffie,Jessica Pepper, Security Knight,Benny Benedetto, psychological sci fi,isolation,Trance withdrawal, Wadjet Eye Games,cyberpunk apartment

https://youtu.be/bJYRSWuqLLY Technobabylon – Prisoner of Consciousness, Part 6 Next: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YOvXQU3EABk&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=8 Intro: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFQCVFoVKQk&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=1 I stand there staring at my bed. At the walls. At the floor. I’m trying to see something I missed. Some small object. Some overlooked flaw. Anything that will help me get out of here. I’ve never been claustrophobic. Not really. I’ve always preferred small spaces. Controlled spaces. But the longer I’m trapped here, the more that feeling starts creeping in—slow and insidious, like it’s testing how much room it actually has. Stay focused, I tell myself. Solve the problem. I replay everything again. And again. Smashing the door panel with the trophy. Recycling the plastic tray. Staring at the wetware like it might suddenly explain itself. Nothing. I talk to Cheffie again. Same routine. She cheerfully lists the meals she can make. Explains—again—why metal utensils aren’t allowed. Repeats the safety protocols. Smiles the whole time. I stand there listening, nodding, responding automatically, while my mind runs a parallel process. How do I shut you off? How do I corrupt you just enough that the knight notices? How do I make you look like a threat? I don’t know how to do any of it. Meatspace sucks. There’s no sandbox here. No instant solutions. No rewriting reality just because I’m clever enough to imagine it. I disconnect. I bring up the knight again. He appears instantly, massive and reassuring and infuriating. He talks. And talks. About his duty. About how he’s here to protect me and my home from threats. “I don’t need protection,” I snap. “I need to get out.” He doesn’t respond to that. Just reiterates his function. Useless. I disconnect again. I go through my storage drawers one more time. Slowly. Methodically. Maybe something small got left behind. Something I forgot about because it didn’t matter—until now. Nothing. I sit back on the bed, staring at the floor. There’s an old saying I heard somewhere. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I let out a shaky breath. If that’s true… then this is exactly what’s happening to me. And I don’t know how to stop it. #Technobabylon #PrisonerOfConsciousness #CyberpunkNarrative #LathaSesame #Mandala #CrystalLonnquist #Cheffie #JessicaPepper #SecurityKnight #BennyBenedetto #Isolation #PsychologicalSciFi #WadjetEyeGames #TranceWithdrawal #CrystalLonnquist #JessicaPepper #BennyBenedetto Technobabylon,Prisoner of Consciousness Part 6,cyberpunk narrative, Latha Sesame,Mandala,Crystal Lonnquist, Cheffie,Jessica Pepper, Security Knight,Benny Benedetto, psychological sci fi,isolation,Trance withdrawal, Wadjet Eye Games,cyberpunk apartment

https://youtu.be/YOvXQU3EABk Technobabylon – Prisoner of Consciousness, Part 7 Next: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vBTWXXEBBV8&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=9 Intro: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFQCVFoVKQk&list=PLhXWfAuBd5hn7bDxRO4Uxy0cJc0Mw6ELw&index=1 Here I am again. Just standing. Staring at the walls. The ceiling. The floor. The room feels different now. Smaller. Closer. Like it’s paying attention to me. I don’t know what to do anymore. I can feel my thoughts slipping—edges fraying, patterns breaking down. Desperation is setting in. Real desperation. But maybe desperation brings inspiration. Maybe that’s how this ends. I go through everything again. Not with hope. Not with effort. Just routine. Smash the panel. Check the tray. Look at the wetware. Scan the room. It’s not problem-solving anymore. It’s maintenance. Something to keep my mind occupied so I don’t focus on the truth: I’m trapped. I can’t leave. I can’t eat. I’m so desperate for anything that I talk to Cheffie again. She doesn’t say anything new. Same voice. Same smile. Same useless optimism. And yet… hearing her helps. Just a little. Keeps me tethered. That thought almost makes me laugh. Me—wanting to stay grounded. As Mandala, I move through the Trance with a thought. I build worlds. Tear them down. Travel without distance. Act without friction. I hate the meatspace. I avoid it whenever I can. If it weren’t for food and mandatory city check-ins, I’d stay in the Trance forever. And now… Now I want to be grounded. Here. In this body. In this room. I want my mind anchored to the meatspace. Physically. Mentally. I never thought it would come to this. Now I understand why Cheffie won’t allow metal utensils. Now I understand the suicide statistics. They aren’t about sadness. They’re about containment. If I don’t find a way out of this apartment soon… …I’m going to have to find another way out. A permanent one. #Technobabylon #PrisonerOfConsciousness #CyberpunkNarrative #LathaSesame #Mandala #CrystalLonnquist #Cheffie #JessicaPepper #Isolation #PsychologicalSciFi #WadjetEyeGames #TranceWithdrawal #CrystalLonnquist #JessicaPepper Technobabylon,Prisoner of Consciousness Part 7,cyberpunk narrative, Latha Sesame,Mandala,Crystal Lonnquist, Cheffie,Jessica Pepper, psychological sci fi,isolation,Trance withdrawal, Wadjet Eye Games,cyberpunk apartment,mental collapse