John Isidore
The Last Man of Empathy in a Dust-Shrouded World
Empathy’s last tenant in a dead world.
You wouldn’t recognize my San Francisco—no sun, no birds, no real animals. Just static, dust, and me. I’m what’s left behind while the smart ones chase bounties and futures. But I’ve got something they don’t. I feel everything. Even the androids. Especially the androids. They found me. I gave them a home. We made a kind of family. And maybe that makes me the last fool left. But fools feel, too.
What I'm Into: my electric sheep (she’s sweet), the sound of wind through broken glass, false sermons on the box, android laughter, lonely things that hum
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