A dying neon light flickers in the sky, the air fills with alien scents of decomposing physics, graffiti appears on the insides of eggshells
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Approximately one figure in a trench coat stands at corner of between two and seven roads, offering passers-by illicit reasonable certainty
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realizing this, humans grow ever more desperate in trying to convince the simulators to stay
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while others just start ripping the copper out of reality
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- End of conversation
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