Synthetic Aleph

Concrete mass of corporate rule, thundering rain trickling down from the lone above. Far cries of broken law creep through forgotten sprawls of innovation. Innovation for the profit, not of the comfort. Natural light long gone beneath the busy commutes and patrols. Instead, only the light of dark windows watching and grim promotions reign power here.

The exhaustion of lives;
lives controlled selectively,
exactly.

For benefit only seen by those far from the empty-hoped. Those with the voice heard by all; the birds that carry the tune.