File integrity below threshold. Reconstructed through residual memory clusters from The Joint network. Narrative consistency estimated at 68 percent.


“I don’t have much time. It always happens like this when you’re short on time.
I am bleeding, and that funny encounter in the suburbs will not go down in history as the best evening of my life. I’m not sure what will become of the rest of us, but one thing I’m sure of, it doesn’t end here.

For many years I read my mom’s diary, never realizing what she was really saying. The true truth was hiding in plain sight. The rules of those times were quite different. Keshuma wasn’t even a city, only a creative plan to evolve the idea of living together. People actually believed it was possible to create a power that could ignite curiosity in people, just to let them have fun with it, and then somehow not be fundamentally bound to an evolving path.

Bullshit. You evolve even when you don’t want to, and all the gadgets this disarming society is trying to build will not prevent more Bosus from coming, more people from summoning them.

I created this place because it is a mastermind of versatility. You don’t really know what you need at "The Joint", but it is there before you can realize it. Whether it is physical or mental relief, a good drink, or information about an escaped G.O.A.T. (Gargoyle Operating Avenging Terminal) that you’ll need to assault the next MA.II (Marvel Attention II) train. The new synthesized version of The Next Day Pill, the emotional burden kids, youth, and the younger generation need to deal with. Something that can train your mind or even help you evolve so close to the explosion of consciousness, the point at which all your memory will flow back as a sort of primordial Metora. A Reset.

Everything is in here.

A lot of desperation as well. My kids. Born and died on the same day due to a Bosu rampage in the old part of the city. A wife stuck in time and space, living on a beeping machine. And me, torn, shattered, and kept intact by my core: "The Joint", this versatile ability of flexing what you really need, saying what you really have to say, and being exactly who you are: You.

That kept me alive. That is keeping me alive. This week’s code is 4328, and the password is Fainaru Raiburari.

“Still trying to engage with the amount of freaks out there?” echoed a voice from a window behind the counter.

Merrin felt exposed and composed himself, acting more professional, like a speaker on the radio.

“Let’s keep things clean. Don’t bring Kaichukans or Yakuza with you, or you will not even find the door. The Joint is a place for everybody, yes, everybody who knows how to behave. Twelve laws need to be accepted before entering.”

A lady with her hoodie up and a bandana used as a mask entered the room, kicked the bags on the left side of the bench, and sat down, stretching her legs.

“I’m so tired,” she said.

She uncovered her face, revealing a long fractured glowing line across one of her cheeks.

“Stop kicking my home, Sana. You are not a punk rock star!”

“Sure I could be, though,” she answered, “if you let me play on the stage of The Joint, again.”

“Nah, last time you risked losing yourself, and some customers could become a bit aggressive if you start spitting again that nonsense about the eviction, the last Kazegami, and the return of the twins. I love your passion, please stick to that and be safe, so I don’t have to lose another daughter.”

“I’m not your daughter, Daddy!”

“Yes, you somehow are! Now get off the bench and get me the Spark here. I cannot turn on the generator, and the server farm is running at half power. Not considering also all the exchanging fluid with Mother K (Keshuma City) leading to floods and clogged energies. And tell Ferro that his last work makes me bleed again, he needs to fix it. I have to go out tonight, and not for shopping in the city.”

“Okey-dokey, moody Daddy. I’ll get them.”

Sana kicked the bags again, stood, spun away from the bench to reach Merrin, and planted a kiss on his cheek. He reacted, surprised, but acted as a disgusted bastard.

When she reached the door it opened by itself with no sound, and a giant figure showed its body but not its head.

Ferro peeked from the door.

“Sana, did you pick up the ashes for Nira? She was looking after you!”

“Sure, I deep-dived in the dump and found some interesting remains. She will be happy! Bye, Merrin,” she whispered. “Ferro, you need to check, he is bleeding again.”

Ferro’s worrisome gaze could not be ignored, and Merrin confronted it.

“Again,” said Ferro.

“Again,” responded Merrin with a heavy breath.

He sat on the bench where Sana had been, and Ferro, who looked more like a bodyguard than a prosthetic dealer, opened his leather bag, searched in it for a minute, and extracted a small pod and what looked like a battery.

“You are still using the Metla 45? Wasn’t the core leaking radioactivity?”

“Yeah, it is leaking radioactivity, but it is the only way we can see how your prosthetic lung is performing. I need to see if blood comes from inside or outside of the lung.”

“Don’t take too long, though,” said Merrin in a reprimanding tone. “I have a place to open in ten minutes, and you know what happens when we just change the code.”

Ferro smiled.

“As you want, Bosu. You are always like this when you are short of time!”

“It looks okayish, but please, at sixteen Selka is coming back, and you are going to sit on her chair. And this time don’t program cinema again, we will need some time.”

“Okay, Doc, I promise. No things to do after sixteen,” Merrin answered with a sarcastic tone.

“Don’t use that. I’m not a Doc, I’m your friend.”

“Not just one, the first and foremost.”

A pause. Then both laughed, not a huge one, but one of those that friends have when they uncover their feelings.

Ferro left, bending his head to exit from Merrin’s office, and Merrin stayed sitting in the same position, looking at the security screens.

“Time to open The Joint, Old Merrin, time to start another day, another blank page.”


END_OF_TRANSMISSION // LOT 0.7.41
REFERENCE: FINAL_LIBRARY INDEX

Integrity 68 % – Restoration pending.



All Rigths Reserved
Copyright protected by Patamu nr 272045

File integrity below threshold. Reconstructed through residual memory clusters from The Joint network. Narrative consistency estimated at 68 percent.


“I don’t have much time. It always happens like this when you’re short on time.
I am bleeding, and that funny encounter in the suburbs will not go down in history as the best evening of my life. I’m not sure what will become of the rest of us, but one thing I’m sure of, it doesn’t end here.

For many years I read my mom’s diary, never realizing what she was really saying. The true truth was hiding in plain sight. The rules of those times were quite different. Keshuma wasn’t even a city, only a creative plan to evolve the idea of living together. People actually believed it was possible to create a power that could ignite curiosity in people, just to let them have fun with it, and then somehow not be fundamentally bound to an evolving path.

Bullshit. You evolve even when you don’t want to, and all the gadgets this disarming society is trying to build will not prevent more Bosus from coming, more people from summoning them.

I created this place because it is a mastermind of versatility. You don’t really know what you need at "The Joint", but it is there before you can realize it. Whether it is physical or mental relief, a good drink, or information about an escaped G.O.A.T. (Gargoyle Operating Avenging Terminal) that you’ll need to assault the next MA.II (Marvel Attention II) train. The new synthesized version of The Next Day Pill, the emotional burden kids, youth, and the younger generation need to deal with. Something that can train your mind or even help you evolve so close to the explosion of consciousness, the point at which all your memory will flow back as a sort of primordial Metora. A Reset.

Everything is in here.

A lot of desperation as well. My kids. Born and died on the same day due to a Bosu rampage in the old part of the city. A wife stuck in time and space, living on a beeping machine. And me, torn, shattered, and kept intact by my core: "The Joint", this versatile ability of flexing what you really need, saying what you really have to say, and being exactly who you are: You.

That kept me alive. That is keeping me alive. This week’s code is 4328, and the password is Fainaru Raiburari.

“Still trying to engage with the amount of freaks out there?” echoed a voice from a window behind the counter.

Merrin felt exposed and composed himself, acting more professional, like a speaker on the radio.

“Let’s keep things clean. Don’t bring Kaichukans or Yakuza with you, or you will not even find the door. The Joint is a place for everybody, yes, everybody who knows how to behave. Twelve laws need to be accepted before entering.”

A lady with her hoodie up and a bandana used as a mask entered the room, kicked the bags on the left side of the bench, and sat down, stretching her legs.

“I’m so tired,” she said.

She uncovered her face, revealing a long fractured glowing line across one of her cheeks.

“Stop kicking my home, Sana. You are not a punk rock star!”

“Sure I could be, though,” she answered, “if you let me play on the stage of The Joint, again.”

“Nah, last time you risked losing yourself, and some customers could become a bit aggressive if you start spitting again that nonsense about the eviction, the last Kazegami, and the return of the twins. I love your passion, please stick to that and be safe, so I don’t have to lose another daughter.”

“I’m not your daughter, Daddy!”

“Yes, you somehow are! Now get off the bench and get me the Spark here. I cannot turn on the generator, and the server farm is running at half power. Not considering also all the exchanging fluid with Mother K (Keshuma City) leading to floods and clogged energies. And tell Ferro that his last work makes me bleed again, he needs to fix it. I have to go out tonight, and not for shopping in the city.”

“Okey-dokey, moody Daddy. I’ll get them.”

Sana kicked the bags again, stood, spun away from the bench to reach Merrin, and planted a kiss on his cheek. He reacted, surprised, but acted as a disgusted bastard.

When she reached the door it opened by itself with no sound, and a giant figure showed its body but not its head.

Ferro peeked from the door.

“Sana, did you pick up the ashes for Nira? She was looking after you!”

“Sure, I deep-dived in the dump and found some interesting remains. She will be happy! Bye, Merrin,” she whispered. “Ferro, you need to check, he is bleeding again.”

Ferro’s worrisome gaze could not be ignored, and Merrin confronted it.

“Again,” said Ferro.

“Again,” responded Merrin with a heavy breath.

He sat on the bench where Sana had been, and Ferro, who looked more like a bodyguard than a prosthetic dealer, opened his leather bag, searched in it for a minute, and extracted a small pod and what looked like a battery.

“You are still using the Metla 45? Wasn’t the core leaking radioactivity?”

“Yeah, it is leaking radioactivity, but it is the only way we can see how your prosthetic lung is performing. I need to see if blood comes from inside or outside of the lung.”

“Don’t take too long, though,” said Merrin in a reprimanding tone. “I have a place to open in ten minutes, and you know what happens when we just change the code.”

Ferro smiled.

“As you want, Bosu. You are always like this when you are short of time!”

“It looks okayish, but please, at sixteen Selka is coming back, and you are going to sit on her chair. And this time don’t program cinema again, we will need some time.”

“Okay, Doc, I promise. No things to do after sixteen,” Merrin answered with a sarcastic tone.

“Don’t use that. I’m not a Doc, I’m your friend.”

“Not just one, the first and foremost.”

A pause. Then both laughed, not a huge one, but one of those that friends have when they uncover their feelings.

Ferro left, bending his head to exit from Merrin’s office, and Merrin stayed sitting in the same position, looking at the security screens.

“Time to open The Joint, Old Merrin, time to start another day, another blank page.”


END_OF_TRANSMISSION // LOT 0.7.41
REFERENCE: FINAL_LIBRARY INDEX

Integrity 68 % – Restoration pending.



All Rigths Reserved
Copyright protected by Patamu nr 272045