We saw the flower come into bloom, watched the landline bees pollinate. We listened to the machine clatter and wiped away the drops of mechanical tears we thought sweat.
Now our struggle is with the rust in the knees, as our stories turn into myth. The touch of the index finger running down the side of a CRT screen a distant memory.
Tell me, dear viewer. Where were you, when the machine wept?
@pmjv Is there more of this stuff? These comics speak to the young me that grew up with the same textured aliased artwork, telling stories of individuals defeating megacities run by corporations. Beneath a steel sky, for ex.
That weird point in history where Linux/bsd/Unix got into some of the public’s consciousness by their logos alone…
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