Refragmentation. Hard. Drive.

Franz wept.

He sat there, devastated, as the closing credits to Fight Club scrolled up the screen. Was he upset by the realization that Tyler Durden was really a figment of Ed Norton's imagination? Or that the detonation of the truck bombs would only hasten the control of power by the banks through decentralized processes? Or was he upset that Norton only reconciled his relationship with Marla Singer (played by HeLena Bonham-Olin-Carter) after blowing off half his face with a gun?

No. He wept with the realization that Tomas was his Brad Pitt — simply a figment of his imagination. In this case, however, his schizOther was born not of the consumer society or even the ills of socialism, but of homogenization and the presentation of false choices.

Now Franz had a real choice to make.

Would he kill off Daniel Day-Lewis? Would he bite the black steel? Would he love? (Were these questions all asking the same thing?)

No. Yes. Fuck the binary of the i-against-i choice.

(i/o)

. . . : : . : . : : : . . . : : . . . : . : . : : . . : : . .

"Wow, that's never happened before," said the basketball player as he closed the file and launched the repair utility on the library's hard drive. "I was trying to show you the 'Hoops + Tears' video."

"Noise always creeps into a system," replied the Switch, swirling the tongue stud around the crevices of her mouth as if savouring each word. "And when it does, it always seems to create beautiful new possibilities."