QUIET BUZZING OF SPINNERS AND CARS from the other side of the window , muffled further by the glass . city is alive and colorful outside the apartment close to ground level .
you can watch the cars from here , the busy streets . it’s what he does most hours spent lifeless / dull / soulless on free days . at home ----- at peace . so it should be . yet even with just holographic eyes staring back at him , he feels uncomfortable . the idea of joi is exactly that to him ; a fruitless fantasy to indulge the pathetic souls of lonely men . an algorithm to wrap your heart around . [ OR A REPLACEMENT , TO AID IN THE PROCESS OF COPING . ] winston surely seems to think so . hence the gift , sneakily installed without his knowledge while he’d been out for an assignment . because the people that you work for own you . because they do not care about your comfort zone .
already john can feel his own senses betraying him as they twist fantasy into reality : several times he has to shut his mouth again , the offer of a drink for her dying on his tongue . and yet it is minimally obvious , for a tiger’s eye to catch only ----- but he can see slightly through her . head tilted , he studies her . her eyes are so kind . so he ignores the ache in his side , by his ribs , the exhaustion tearing at what feels like bruised bones , to handle this like another task , make something out of it , so she isn’t bored here for nothing . ‘ so . . . what would you like . . . to talk about ? ’
@ikarvis ↪ joi [ plotted ]
