A finite end to failure
A finite end to failure: Long fiction project: draft 2
The dagger hits Cyrus Matheus straight in his middle. With a dramatic woozy sway he falls to the ground. A triumphant eight legged beast called an aracman dominates the background. With this, the underground scene is replaced with black and then the words GAME OVER flash on the screen. Dammit, he thought he had the monster cornered that time. Cyrus was a good hero, athletic with a high tolerance for pain and an abundance of courage; he could fire a grenade straight to the back of the screen into the heart of a wild beast with one swift command of a button.
He shoves himself away from the computer screen. Something is wrong with his game. He hates seeing those words; game over, they spell out a finite end to his failure. It is not the mechanics of the game that give him a sense of unease, but the invisible fibres that make it whole, not the lungs that give it breath or the heart that pumps life through it but the voice; the thing that makes it speak.
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