Mood condensation of lonely rainy hyper-violent cyberpunk. Roaming through dense automated cities where the closest you get to socialization is the hum and whisper of vending machines and motion sensors and ATMs, advertisements plastered across every surface in scriptural repetition.

Humans wake up trapped in structures made before they were born, their lives dictated by wastelands of unwalkable suburbs and sick buildings.

A summoning of concrete will always turn on the humans who called it. Concrete is stronger than flesh. Without the power to destroy these summonings, we populate them like neurons in a brain, or flora in a gut. The activities that we view as deeply personal and private are the bodily functions of a larger organism.