Being confined to the house by the rainy summer, I had plenty of time to make that rendering, using the same metal-art nouveau-oriental-rusty mix I have been trying to put together in my various cityscapes. The Manor house by the lake is freely inspired by the book of Jack Vance.
These machines made people crazy so rapidly that if the humans had still had some kind of administration they would have had immediately congressional hearings or a green paper or something on them. Over the time, the old dream softwares had become completely mixed up so they were giving you dreams designed for other alien species. Imagine yourself dipping in the nightmare of some gelatinous, cannibalistic squid-spider !
Right now there was a power outage and a group of junkies was slowly emerging in some state of abstraction.The first guy left from the door started screaming some garbage at me before I even had time to ask for directions.
-“Man, you aint nothin’ but a hound dog. Did you left the cake out in the rain ?.”
I really wasn’t any more educated because of it so I moved to the next character, but I did not make great improvements there either.
Right then some palooka came from the adjacent room. Probably his job description indicated he was some sort of waiter-cum-bouncer-cum-stains-on-the-floor-removal expert. Right now he was operating a pail and a broom and did not seem to be pleased about life generally. I reckon he had been stuck since the last few years at an intermediate step between quitting the stuff and securing a second decent chance in life.
He deigned to look down on me so I smiled up at him and cracked a joke or two to relax the atmosphere. But probably this guy does not want to be seen smiling in public for fear that people would think he does not brush his tooth.
Anyway after I slipped a couple of bucks to him he started telling me a guy fitting the description of MC Final had rented a room at the back of the joint. No need to say it was the kind of room where no furniture were needed and which could be rented for the short term.
So I left the bar and eased along a dark passage to some junky backyard smelling like the ratcatcher had been on leave since last christmast. I saw a grungy wall with a dark door and a dimly lit window towards which I leisurely proceeded. I climbed on a trash can and peeped through a dirty, cracked window into a shabby room. And what I saw in there completely reversed the conception you folks may have had that my job concerning the MC Final guy was to be some piece of cake.