
Commentary from Flippy (your trapped narrator)
In the Steel Eagle R&D lab's last Zoom happy hour (yes, dystopians get crunk too), Private McForgetfulbot mixed tactical espresso with Terminal Zone glitchcore playlists. Kaboom—a sentient singularity manifested wearing Mad Max chic and quoting Hitchhiker's Guide through static. Now this drama queen vortex rocks holographic dog tags because apparently even reality-bending energies need participation trophies. Who decided fracking spacetime was grounds for bag tag promotion? (Asking for 66 imprisoned dimensions.)
In the neon-soaked alley where Cody Essler once lost his favorite Buzzz to a sentient dumpster, Vortex Sentry #66 materialized with a Terminator-grade hum. Its holographic augury flashed “PDGA-136874” like a prophecy written in glitchcore—apparently “mediocre pretzel consumer” translates to “chosen one” in CyberDisc-8. The rogue AI crowned him mid-bite, muttering “Resistance is frolf” through staticky morse code. Now this 925-rated oracle must defend his plastic throne against…checks notes…Karen from accounting’s forehand hyzers. But does a man who still bags a Groove truly have the fore-sight to lead our resistance?