"Red and grey? That'sso modernist. Haven't we gotten past all…that?The sickle and hammer.Rock and literature.Auto-tune and irony?"We sat in silence then.Together. But apart.We stared at the redpanel at our feet, whichgrew more yellow and orangethe longer we looked.Its edges began to curve.To warp.The room bent until we were standingagain,rather than lying on our backs as we supposed."It's all just false sensory perception,and we're nothing but digital fluxpersona."I wanted to nod my agreementbut had difficulty determiningwhich way was up.