Art by Markus Spiske.
From the author: We think of putting our minds in The Cloud and we think immortality. But time is subjective, and so is freedom.
<DR>I think and I'm standing in a field of gently swaying grass, a bright round sun shining above me. Too big, not the real sun. I take it down a notch. I'm standing in the center of the field, me at twenty, thinner and sharper-looking than I ever was. I cloak myself in my favorite skin, what I like to call Burnt Hacker: black leather, unshaven cheeks, wrap-around sunglasses.
I think and I'm in a club in New York City I remember from my existence.
Infinite space inside a chip the size...