The robots never “sleep” for lengthy periods of time; this makes wandering their cities both endlessly fascinating and exhausting. I am especially drawn to these crowded alleys: they are always buzzing with all manner of activity and always in a state of perpetual dusk.
The body will stay where it is, in the dark. The tunnel will keep its secret for now. More importantly, to remove the body would undo, to erase, an important part of their story. Whatever caused their demise is in the past and what we do now will not affect that.
Analog interface drift. I was told that with each analog/manual interface, a small amount of drift or irregularity is introduced. This is a favorable outcome that heightens the appreciation of the music experience.
Just as all “big things” happen, there was no preface, no hints, at what perception-altering event lay ahead. One moment the dry, dusty emptiness of the tunnel system, and then, in a shallow alcove, evidence of an entirely unknown facet of the robots’ existence. The edge of the map had been unfolded to reveal a terrible landscape.
As much as there is out in the light, there is probably just as much in the dark. A robot took me down to what appeared to be storm surge tunnels beneath an older part of the city. I didn’t go too far into the tunnel but the robot did not follow me. Strange. They provided no explanation for why they would not venture past the mouth of the tunnel.
This is the first in a series of drawings using the contents of Marker Universe‘s “January blind box”: A curated selection of various markers and pens from Karin, Graph It, Sketchmarker, and Aristo.