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Sulfurware Side Story #5: Earth-Skin
Sama walks unnoticed among humans in modern-day America, cloaked in a perfect disguise. Disgusted by the third dimension and its primitive customs, he silently mocks everything around him—its people, culture, and noise. Despite his contempt, he seamlessly blends in, spending the day engaging in mundane human activities without drawing suspicion. As night falls, Sama wanders the city under neon lights until two party girls approach him, charmed by his mysterious presence and unaware of his true nature. Though initially repulsed, Sama finds himself momentarily entertained, even intrigued. In their simplicity and obliviousness, he glimpses a strange, unpolished charm. By the end of the night, his hatred for Earth flickers—if only slightly—as he considers that perhaps this backward world isn’t entirely without merit.
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Transcript
Sulfurware Side Story #5: Earth-Skin
The stench was the first offense.
Exhaust. Frying oils. Synthetic fruit-scented sweat and hormone-drenched air. Sama walked unnoticed through the streets of America—Miami, he believed, though all the cities looked like cluttered glass cages smeared with ambition and noise. His human disguise was flawless: well-proportioned, stylish, unremarkable. Even his gait mimicked their weary confidence.
But his mind was not here.
This was the third dimension? This petty smear of noise and gravity? This theatre of flesh? He watched as humans argued over coffee orders, stared at glowing rectangles, laughed too loud, lied to each other with every practiced smile.
“Pathetic,” he muttered inwardly. They devour illusions and call it truth. They pray to the mirrors they build.
Still, he played his role. He sat in cafes. He browsed through bookstores. He lingered in parks, observing them in their curated chaos. He rode their transit, nodded to strangers, even complimented a barista’s tattoo. No one noticed anything strange about him. That was the trick—look human enough, and no one sees you at all.
Night came. Neon licked the pavement. Sama found himself drifting along a boulevard, hands in pockets, blending with the nightlife herd. That’s when the two party girls saw him.
They swayed toward him in glittering dresses and too-high heels, trailing perfume and impulse.
“Hey, handsome,” one said, touching his arm lightly, eyes wide with play.
“Where’ve you been hiding?” the other laughed.
Sama turned to them, observing with clinical detachment. Skin paled by lights, teeth too white, souls dim as dusk—but radiant in their own way. They flirted. He offered smiles, murmured responses. Their minds, oblivious. Their intentions, obvious. They had no idea what stood before them.
And yet…
Perhaps, Sama thought, this backwater planet isn’t entirely without charm.
He let the moment stretch a little longer than he needed. The night was warm. The streetlight cast him in amber.
For once, he didn’t mind staying.
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