When radiation spread over the ruins of modern cities, consciousness was the first to break free from the shackles of the body. Fragments of consciousness from the old world float among the rust of the steel bars - the afterimage of neon lights, the hum of mechanical prosthetics, and the tremors of unfamiliar brain waves. She walks at the junction of reality and reality, and what her fingertips touch is not bricks and gravel, but the residue of consciousness left behind by others: pulses of fear, gentle ripples, and cold instructions. The wind of the apocalypse stirs up the sand and disrupts the torrent of consciousness. She does not need to rebuild the collapsed world, but only seeks to find the anchor point of "existence" at the edge of the stripped consciousness. Every collision of consciousness is a self-torture. In the desolation where ashes and radio waves intersect, her consciousness is salvaging the hidden truth of the apocalypse from the broken memories.
