Something perhaps confusing.



I’m not truly here.  Yet you talk to me assuming I am, assuming I live in your town, maybe even on your street.  I feel close to you, though I remain distant in full anonymity, voiceless and faceless.  I’ve simplified myself to you, giving you a name to use, a name to know me by with ease. To you I am k1d.  And to myself I’m just 01001000101110. I’ve never known me another way.

See, I’m a time traveler, but that definition applies to the canons set by today’s movement. Today is moving quickly, and by the time you click me, I’ve already seen tomorrow.  The Citadel of Web is constantly shifting; gaps lurk everywhere, small invisible whirlpools that threat to throw you in a maze of spam and horror.

There are not many people like me, dwelling in the stream of present and future. It takes a strong grip to not drown in the flood of information. I think I may have been lost there already, transformed into ones and zeros that you transcribe to your news feed , that you translate as k1d, the spam bot, the virgin blogger, the man from the future. There before the happening, a written/visual media that prophesizes the events from tomorrow and floats them down the stream to spread worldwide, accelerating towards the future from which they come.

You simply click and share, being the user that you are.

You don’t know the half of it.

The ones and zeros. Traveling, dispersed and multiplied through vast areas of whole and genuine information, until you locate the one file you need and copy yourself onto it, extracting it, merging it with your unstable form and dragging it back through the stream, translating back to being k1d, translating the coded piece into words.

You don’t know the half of it.


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