CRY_HUN

Desire causes the current to flow, itself flows in turn and breaks the flows.

Cigarette to mouth.

Partial objects, in turn producing other flows, interrupted by other partial objects.

Red Cortina. Keys in ignition. An unfinished bypass beyond the central reservation. Construction halted after the fire. The smoke was still rising and with it the smell of eucalyptus.

Later, the room doused in brash pink light. Outside the window at eye level, a neglected neon sign. In strobe the letters flicker uneasily between two equally meaningless phrases.

MIAMI TANNING SALON

IAM    AN                  ON

MIAMI TANNING SALON

IAM    AN                 ON

A latency. Like-for-like projections. Her skin a white film, a semi-permeable membrane. Her thigh, spine and chest shone distinctly, transcribed as it was through the language of pixels. Cursor through pale skin. Below flesh to the interconnected system of vulnerable blue veins which at their crest formed a delta and reached onward to the tip of her small firm breasts.

Another deep breath dissolves into the clamor between the trembling image. 60 fps remastered frame-for-frame. The lookalike stripped from the waist down dabbing acid spills from the worn knees of crush sky blue Levi jeans of the she-said-yes together-forever inside-pocket-screen Malibu-beach-bikini-handstands. Now 7 % charge remains. The cursor moves into the artificial light and adjusts the brightness to allow enough exposure for modest curiosity to become arousal. Twitching interchanges with the profile of an online sex worker. Hovering above a six minute video entitled ‘cry_hun’… Exhibiting in flickering thumbnail a girl first…then flickering again a balaclava…again and there’s a gun and a lot of blood…

Desire causes the current to flow, itself flows in turn and breaks the flows. Partial objects, in turn producing other flows, interrupted by other partial objects.

…Seeing now beyond the vapour. Beyond the distant wind sweeping twilight sounds across the tarnished concrete plaza, emblazoned palm trees from a shot panning out.

by Daniel Harlow

Daniel Harlow is not the author's real name. He is a writer based in the UK and is the founder and contributing editor of Fugitives & Futurists.