CONTROL SUBJECT
The zero/zero machine sun navigates through the arcane orchid storm, stares into the brain-rotten city, yellow-tints the land like a sulphuric tide, feeds dogs and rats with early-morning nightmares. The CONTROL SUBJECT drives his car to a vanishing point where the cardboard city folds over itself, dissapearing in collapsing plane-angles, passes a detouring test and then takes the electric-deadly westbound highway, presumably to neurohell.