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discophysique.bsky.social
bot that tweets endurance, pain threshold, physical instrument, electrochemistry, shivers, & half light quotes đź’Ą
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ELECTROCHEMISTRY - COME ON! I SAID PARTY! YOU - (Party.) HORRIFIC NECKTIE - Fucking right. Let me just tighten up a bit for you -- is that good, you sick, wild fuck boy?

YOU - What's in the north? SHIVERS - Capeside apartments -- tower blocks crowd one another, 4.46 mm bullets still lodged in their war-torn stone walls. Hallways collapsed from the mortar hits of a war that was lost long ago.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Pow-pow! That was impressive. KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant purses his lips. “Admirable form.”

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - It's out there now. In the world. Made manifest. HALF LIGHT - It will devour everything.

SAVOIR FAIRE - You juggle the badge for a second, unsuccessfully, and it lands on the ground some two metres away. PAIN THRESHOLD - Ouch, you strained your elbow trying to catch that stupid thing…dammit.

YOU - “The swallow -- it's how it starts. It's baby pale.” SOONA, THE PROGRAMMER - “But…” She looks up, and there's fear in her eyes as she considers the possibility. “But pale isn't here. We're thousands of kilometres from the edge.” HALF LIGHT - That comforts her.

EGG HEAD - The one with the large head is still looking at you, nodding his head, waiting for your body to start moving…his expectation is fierce… HALF LIGHT - You can't be scared of moving a lil bit, are you?! Get the grind on!

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - That guy *must* be juicing. No way he's natural! YOU - Wait, 'juicing'? PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Big time. TRT, growth hormones, Graadian power injections -- he's on *all* of them.

MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - “You don't look like a cop…” He inspects you. “You know what you look like?” YOU - “I don't know -- you tell me.” MAN WITH SUNGLASSES - He taps on his forehead, thinking. “A sad stack of shit?” HALF LIGHT - Who does this asshole think he is -- a *cop*?

YOU - Smash into the door and shout: “Fuck the system!” PAIN THRESHOLD - The door shudders with your impact. Hinges snap, panels crack, splinters fly by as you smash through, tumbling into the darkness ahead.

YOU - I thought it would be cool, but instead all the violence made me feel sad and hollow… PAIN THRESHOLD - Yes. Beat yourself up for it. Good. Everyone must suffer.

EMPATHY - I think he's calmed down a bit… HALF LIGHT - No, he didn't -- he's about to open fire. YOU - So which one is it, who's right? EMPATHY - He is. I was wrong.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Your spine is pretty flimsy. It's like those foam swords that children play with.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - That sugary black rum stain on the counter makes you teary-eyed with joy. It's almost touching how syrupy and sticky it is.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - A strange, metallic taste fills your mouth, as you stare at the intercom. TRICENTENNIAL ELECTRICS - “Yes, hello, this is Tricentennial Electrics. Have you come to place an order?”

YOU - Shudder, look further… SHIVERS - In the rain-swept distance above the rooftops of Jamrock, a re-purposed silk mill stands perched above the motorway exit. Precinct 41 hunches in the rain.

CUNO - “Cuno's Cuno, pig!” The boy points to his chest with both thumbs. LOGIC - It's always *Cuno*, never *I*. Clearly the kid's using the third-person perspective as a shield. HALF LIGHT - Cuno…Primal. Violent.

KIM KITSURAGI - “You threw an improvised petroleum bomb at the major. A firefight ensued.” YOU - “Is he dead?” KIM KITSURAGI - “Yes.” HALF LIGHT - You're a real killer, Harry.

ANCIENT REPTILIAN BRAIN - Relax, man. It's just the comfortable darkness. Interrupted by the pain in your body. A telegraph, far away. PAIN THRESHOLD - Far enough not to hurt for a while.

SHIVERS - Far to the southeast, two men and a woman dress themselves in ceramic armour. A shortwave radio hisses on the windowsill. One makes a salute. The other downs a drink. Weapons under the bed…

KIM KITSURAGI - “Better not to jump to *sensationalist* conclusions here. The footprints on the floor, however…” He points to the marks on the floor. “*Definitely* suspicious.” ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Boring footprints. I want to jump to sensationalist conclusions.

SHIVERS - A film rental opens its doors to the rain, an armoured motor carriage rushes past the corner where you used to walk together…Suddenly, the hair on your back rises. SHIVERS - YOU CANNOT RETURN.

YOU - Inspect the handwriting in the files. DAMAGED LEDGER - It's *inornate*. Nearly illegible, yet marching in orderly lines. PAIN THRESHOLD - Written in a rush. In pain.

COUPRIS KINEEMA - The prybar feels nice and cold in your hand. Heavier than you'd think. PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Cold and heavy -- like truth.

KIM KITSURAGI - “Respiratory system…” Back hunched -- as if in prayer -- he begins to pry open the dead man's jaws. He stops to exert more force. Both hands are used. PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - He's really *doing* it -- the dead man's teeth cut into his gloved hands.

SHIVERS - On Clinton Street, near the Boogie Street Diamond, a small truck rattles down an alleyway. It stops by a rusted trash container. Two men, their faces rough and swollen, jump out. They look at the container, despondently.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY - The origin of disco…makes you wanna dive into the boogie, doesn't it?

COMPOSURE - A strange little engine seems to fire up in him again. It straightens his back. HALF LIGHT - Detest pushes the cobwebs out of his eyes, pushes the melancholy aside. He relishes it.

SHIVERS - Their hopes of getting rich linger in the defunct shafts under their feet.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - By god, this young man has the body of a *decathlete*. His lithe form was practically made for vaulting over the high bar! YOU - “Son, do you train?” SMOKER ON THE BALCONY - “Occasionally.” He takes another drag, filling his lungs with nicotine.

KLAASJE - “What now?” HALF LIGHT - Now she's trapped here, in the cage -- just like you.

DOLORES DEI - “I don't want to hear anything about *the mourning*, mourning someone who's still alive -- *any of that*! I'm not eighty years old, I'm thirty two. People my age are not supposed to mourn…” PAIN THRESHOLD - It feels like your ribs are cracking around your heart.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Just pull his rotting head off. The meat's cooked anyway, give the boot another yank and it's done. YOU - I don't want to pull his head off. HALF LIGHT - How do you plan to get him down then? With social sensibility? Are you going to *educate* him down?

YOU - Which ones exactly are affected? VOLITION - There's no way of knowing. At the moment I'm afraid it's best to assume…*all* of them. ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Bullshit, man, I ain't *compromised*. VOLITION - *Especially* that guy. That guy's the most compromised one in here.

YOU - Punch the door. DOOR, ROOM 3 - You slam your fist into the vinyl. It does not produce a hole. The door sits sturdily in the frame and your fist hurts. This was all a very good, normal thing to do. PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - Not to mention *great* exercise!

YOU - (Kick the door.) BARRED DOOR - The door receives a thorough disciplining. ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Its pain and grovelling is much to your liking.

SHIVERS - Winter's grip on the city is loosening. The spring thaw is here.

RHETORIC - Despite all the thinking you've been doing, only 0.0001% of communism has been built. It's too great a task to undertake alone. You're going to have to *get organised*. ENDURANCE - Uh oh. Organisation hasn't exactly been your strong suit, historically speaking…

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant taps his foot impatiently, his arms folded tight against his chest. ELECTROCHEMISTRY - He's dying for a cigarette.

SHIVERS - Underwater, iron helmets have sunk deep into the sand and the mud. Helmets of soldiers.

YOU - “Fuck.” LILIENNE'S TWIN - The boy blinks. “Fffff…” Despite his efforts, the unfamiliar word catches in his mouth. ELECTROCHEMISTRY - COME ON BOYS, YOU CAN DO IT! LILIENNE'S OTHER TWIN - “Ff…” The other boy tries. “What does that mean?” KIM KITSURAGI - “Nothing.”

YOU - “How do you feel about manufacturing large quantities of drugs?” SOONA, THE PROGRAMMER - “I feel that's illegal.” ELECTROCHEMISTRY - She's a radiocomputer wizard. Radiocomputer wizards don't care. She probably thinks it's illegal -- *and* fun.

YOU - (Kick the door.) BARRED DOOR - The door receives a thorough disciplining. ELECTROCHEMISTRY - Its pain and grovelling is much to your liking. KLAASJE - “Suck on that, door.”

SHIVERS - LET GO. YOU - What was that? SHIVERS - Frisson covers your entire body. A feeling of cold. A persistent chill.

LENA - “Oh, I'm sure you would make a wonderful *gigolo* dear -- with those strong arms of yours. But welfare checks aren't all they're cracked up to be.” ELECTROCHEMISTRY - She's not really lusting after those biceps, man.

INLAND EMPIRE - Isn't that odd? How *can* you run so much? ENDURANCE - Actually, yeah…How? You have mediocre lungs.

MORELL - “It's long been our dream to find proof of the Insulindian phasmid *together*. I can't abandon course now.” Another cough, into his fist this time. ENDURANCE - His spirit may be willing, but his body might be too old to endure the rigours of the coast.

SHIVERS - Behind the half-built cinder block house at the other end of the village there are three people, drinking. Your *new crew*. You don't need the old crew, oh no, you have a new crew to get drunk with.

HORRIFIC NECKTIE - Most of the people in this yard are gonna die -- if not all. Probably you too. It's a COMPLETE DISASTER. PAIN THRESHOLD - Get ready for a world of pain, man.

KIM KITSURAGI - He looks at the roundabout. SHIVERS - The lights of the orphan district are reflected in his glasses: the red and golden orbs of the motorway sliding like pearls on a string, from East to West, as Revachol commutes back to the suburbs.