Ｓｔａｔｉｃ Ｓｌｅｅｐ

[Kama @Kama_Kamilia]

A street full of grown men the second they hear a helicopter

[Ｓｔａｔｉｃ Ｓｌｅｅｐ @Pytex_irl]

@83thegame Not even a month after release...

[Ｓｔａｔｉｃ Ｓｌｅｅｐ @Pytex_irl]

@freck1edjesus @Hootcel Inner-city mana potion

[Ｓｔａｔｉｃ Ｓｌｅｅｐ @Pytex_irl]

@BillTheKid1603 > disco elysium profile picture

[Michael Kandel @K_A_N_D_E_L]

the pitt video game actually looks pretty cool

[U.S. Graphics Company @usgraphics]

This is just so peak.

IMO a systematic society thrives in Mies'ian architecture or may be it is vice versa, we'll never know. Nevertheless, they're inexplicably linked. We're on our way to destroy the Second School of Chicago with the RETVRN of plastic Art Deco and LED Rococo because of number of grievances. We are going overcorrect with equal false earnestness, aren't we...

[Ｓｔａｔｉｃ Ｓｌｅｅｐ @Pytex_irl]

@JRUrbaneNetwork Buses are low-class, trams are high-class.

[Ｓｔａｔｉｃ Ｓｌｅｅｐ @Pytex_irl]

@ungodlysight @gOPwbi7qqtWeD9o When I first saw it I thought it was Lorn's Lure, check that out for similar settings.

[JR Urbane Network @JRUrbaneNetwork]

This basketball court in the Shenzhen TP-Link Headquarters is an example of smart, athletic, elevated urbanism that is illegal to build in most of North America.

[Big Serge ☦️🇺🇸🇷🇺 @witte_sergei]

“By order of the Emperor, General Thomas Homanius has been dispatched to Minneapolis, with authority to act in the emperor’s name, to quell the rebellion therein, and to punish all enemies of the state. No disorder will be tolerated.”

[Ｓｔａｔｉｃ Ｓｌｅｅｐ @Pytex_irl]

@Lib_Development Walking mostly

[Ｓｔａｔｉｃ Ｓｌｅｅｐ @Pytex_irl]

@WorldByWolf Izzat explains this.

[Ｓｔａｔｉｃ Ｓｌｅｅｐ @Pytex_irl]

@Lib_Development >lowercase-i internet
Which one?

[Ｓｔａｔｉｃ Ｓｌｅｅｐ @Pytex_irl]

@MountainGenera Absolute cinema

[Ozymandias𓆏 @0zmnds]

Giuseppe Pietro Bagetti

[meowtown @hieywieyneue]

thinking about the concept art for the cancelled cars spinoff called metro

[A Field @ponyfaceddog]

When I ride on a double-decker bus I like to sit right at the front of the upper deck because the experience appeals to my innocent, child-like side, but those seats are often taken up by weird men who seem to take some kind of embarrassing, childish pleasure in sitting there.

[brutalny @brutalny84]

It was late in the afternoon. The rain was like a little dog, barking at my office window. A cramped room, awash with full spectrum rainbow RBG light from my keyboard. Never figured out how to change the settings. My name— GIGA CHAD, PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR— blurred and reversed on the frosted glass door.

The fan above me spread smoke from a cigar that I'd lit, and placed in an ashtray as a sort of incense dispenser, to every corner of the room. I burned through almost a dozen cigars per day like this. Clients pay for the aesthetic.

Or at least they did, once upon a time. All the PI work in town had dried up weeks ago. Xitter was a nothing app now, a desolate wasteland of brimstone AI slop. There was hardly a poaster left with an attention span that could endure long form content.

I’d just poured myself another healthy glass of liquid optimism when the shadow appeared on the glass: a silhouette. Square, heavy, and somewhat Groyperous.

Three knocks. They were strong, measured— reverberating through the door like boots on the parade ground. Slavic.

This was no Groyper.

“I'm busy,” I said, queuing up another AI translated Austrian Painter speech at 2x speed. Perhaps another thousand hours of WARNO would cure my ennui...

He stepped in with the rain riding his greatcoat, and shrugged it off like a Lion. The face was stern, intense, with a Norwood so strong it blinded me like a strobe when the light struck it just right.

“Comrade Investigator,” he said in Russian-accented English that rumbled like a railcar. “V. V. Nikitin. Pipeline Troops.”

I let the name hang. “Thought the valve got shut on you boys,” I said, chin toward the corkboard where a fresh printout of a Xeet was pinned with a brass tack. Bold letters: NO MORE PL TROOPS. WE ARE MOVING ON. "Case closed. Nothing ever happens."

Nikitin didn’t even give it a glance. He looked at the chair. I didn’t offer it. He sat anyway, seizing the initiative like a pontoon bridge deciding to span a river.

“Orders from the top,” he said, “they're shutting it down. Officially, anyways.”

"And unofficially?"

He laid an envelope in front of me. It had the weight to it, like, I don't know, a 5,000lb dumbell. I slid it open. Photographs. Black-and-white figures, side by side. These were all subjects I'd seen before.

"We've never been more back."

I poured two glasses because I was going to need a lot more optimism for this. He declined with a palm like a pumping station, fingers thick like PMT-100. I drank both, because I believe in appreciating infrastructure.

“What’s the job, General? I don't see how these random Gigalogues you printed out are related.” I pushed the stack of photos back to him and they spilled across the desk- obscure Soviet military figures, Cobsons, Xitter mutuals, all staring up at me like the answer was obvious.

His eyes measured the room: the fan, ashtray, blinds, the walls blackened by cigar smoke, the drawer where I keep a revolver, which I mostly point at myself when annoying clients (like my Mom or Landlord) come and bother me.

"Best start believing in Gigalogues. You're in one."

I instinctively reached for the suicide revolver in confusion, but Nikitin stayed my hand. He reached up and nudged the lamp so a cone of light fell halfway between us— illumination.

A certain semi-related video sprang to the forefront of my imagination. "Soviet Night Fighting Tactics."

He raised an eyebrow, impressed for the first time. "So you have watched the videos."

"All of them. Who hasn't?"

He smiled. "You'd be surprised..."

—TO BE CONTINUED—

[Ｓｔａｔｉｃ Ｓｌｅｅｐ @Pytex_irl]

@DavidMMcintosh Did not expect the hear USCSB narrator there.