The Digital Narcissus
My apartment in Queens is a coffin of takeout boxes and blue light. I haven't left the room in three weeks. The only window I have is a 32-inch curved monitor, and on that monitor is the only thing that matters: the stream. He calls himself "The Voyager." He travels through worlds that defy physics—forests of floating obsidian, cities built on the backs of cosmic whales, oceans of liquid gold....
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