Future. The huge rusty barriers are still out there in the dark ocean. The time is fragmented. Sure, they've found a way to live from an old book of rules. Do you want to give you phoney freedom? - Glimpse - OK, then. You are allowed to press any of those concrete keys. You had your chance. This is the beginning of the end. Everything is out of control. How many chargers do we have to get? We do not propose. We do not give solutions. Why do you insist on this? Such a bitter taste in your mouth... I think there's a chance for the creation of our personal mythologies. The patriarchs of shaping are dead by now. They only have to worry about their servers. Dica // mois. Could we create a past according to our needs? I want... I want... my fingertip and a blood stain. Spare memory cartridges! Please. Step on it and feel the crash.