Whisper of Steel

The rain never stops at night, and neon is the only star in this city. Here, memory is a luxury product that can be sold, and gods are pseudocodes that can be programmed. I am Zero, a "soul scavenger" digging in the data graveyard. I stole the memory fragments of the deceased and sold them to the living for comfort, but I buried my true past deep in the deepest part of the steel jungle. There is only one truth I believe in: Don't stare into the data abyss, because the abyss will eventually stare back. Until that day, I dug out a "whisper" from an abandoned prosthetic body that shouldn't exist. ——It is not a memory, but it makes the cold machinery breed the touch of flesh and blood. ——It is not a virus, but it makes the urban AI fall into collective madness. Order begins to crumble, and the code bleeds like a living thing. What is chasing me is no longer an ordinary company hunting dog, but a twisted mechanical monk praying an unknown secret. I was forced to embark on a road of escape, searching for the truth between the gap between cyberspace and the bottom of the real world. I discovered that the steel civilization we are so proud of may be just a fragile skin covering some ancient, hungry existence. And the "Whisper of Steel" from the abyss is the... Final prayer that awakens it. When the neon lights in the city converged into a giant cold eye in front of my eyes, I finally understood: I am not an accidental listener. I am the chosen sacrifice. [Cyberpunk + Weird Secrets + Cthulhu Style, a dark poem about awakening and devouring.