Zig is a quantum being. He [is/is not] in Astoria, Queens… now! He lingers. He perseveres. [She/he] reads your mind. You read [his/hers]. Entanglement. String theory. Zig theory. No theory. We just are. The Machine must be kept running. So we are taught since birth. Obey.
Cosmic explosions on the edge of the Observable Universe. Intergalactic civilizations plan their attack. We barely keep it together. Implosions. Sinkholes.
SF at its finest. She gets my ass out of yoga pants. We summit Orgasm Peak.
Zoë opens her eyes. I am you. I am here. There are thirteen control rooms in the metropolis. Watching us. All of us. Be alert in your surroundings … invisible environments. Steel staircases. Concrete rooms. Thirteen-feet high. The far wall. The opposite wall. A brutalist concrete structure with dome windows. Peak into the labyrinth. Peek into the peephole. Your entire existence is an oscillation. Peaks & troughs. I see it all. You see it all.
Morning arrives. Briefly and succinctly, we fuck. Electronic brain. Zoë & Zig.
Zoë was a real thigh-slapper. She liked to be on top. She liked to be on all fours. And Zig? Zig liked what Zoë liked. Impossible to tell them apart.