# If you could, would you really?

The system chokes. No bits are visualised. All just a failed
effort on an ivory chessboard. Rise, fall, stand up, sit down.
The machine exhales black smoke and you are there to catch it
with an open mouth. Behind a tall desk sits a being in 
a powdered wig. Strike of the gavel. Open your eyes.

Magnetic dream or not, you're in this alone. The machine
coughs. No convincing yourself that it'll be alright is going
to remedy the leaking battery pack. The cracked visor over 
your eyes will give way to the atmospheric pressure any moment
now. And the system chokes.

Still falling. Nothing to grab onto but your own self. Give me
your best color palette, stroke my arm and fill the tape on my
back with endless streams of data. It can take it. And I will
try. The webbing of cracks follows the path of least resistance.

The left eyeball is the first to go as the helmet finally breaks
apart. The pressure pulls it right out of its socket and the
brain follows closely in tail as if sucked out through a straw.
In the distance run two white horses, but there is no video 
output anymore.

And the system chokes.