humor is obsolete man. it’s the 21st century. things are too bleak for that now.

you try having a sense of humor while dodging feds equipped with MK ultra 2.0 mind control pods on your skateboard because you broke into a government database that proves the last 8 presidents have been CIA operations and not only that but they stole the samurai sword you were gonna use to off yourself after you leaked it to protect the other dissidents who were helping you, then getting away with the help of a couple Navaho Indians who feed you peyote and then spending the night puking and experiencing your life as a constantly repeating microcosmic cycle occurring on silicone on an alien mothership floating in space above the earths debris field who’s sun has already supernova’d, then getting woken up after 2 hours sleep because your indian savior’s daughter had an ipad and it id’d your unique breath print through the mic even though the power was off and they’re chasing you again and you have to keep running but this time you’re not sure if you’re dreaming or not and you keep evading them but you’re not sure if you let them catch you, that they’ll just pull off their fed masks and revel that they are you and just when you think you make it to the edge of your sector, where you know there is an unmapped hole in the gate, the whole plate holding the overcity above your head comes down and you not only see sun for the first time in many years, but you’re too spun out on the peyote you’re still tripping on to try and find shelter and thank god the beams fall in the right place, because now you can climb to the overworld and maybe upload your evidence if you can only find a couple hours on the right machine and just when you finally are at the brink of achieving that, a sniper drone puts a bullet in your head from 6 miles out and your detector was only calibrated for 5 miles and as you lie dying looking at the bullet hole in the computer you were about to liberate the underclass with, you can’t tell if you’re actually dying or just going to relieve the same cycle again and again (maybe with small variations) on alien silicone or even maybe back in the undercity having a bad time with your peyote and then a song starts playing and you still have no clue what’s going on and then you wake up the next morning in a stasis torture chamber reliving your worst memories over and over and try futilely to use the mental techniques you learned to resist torture before betraying every principle you ever believed in and giving up your resistance cell then getting shot in the head and left to bleed out in a concrete building and the last thing you realize before you die is that it was always AI chasing you, there was never any humans involved in your capture at all.

it’s tough out there for a cyberpunk. have a little compassion for our lack of humor.

[Source](http://www.reddit.com/r/Cyberpunk/comments/1xnsud/a_cyberpunk_at_a_party/cfdcphk)