the sinking of thatmarked

The kiosk displayed an image of ocean waves

With the surging waves, it say “Touch the scaner; but you are not reguired to choose”

 Whether she was there or not didn’t matter; she had been gone fore a long time. Her shell simply drifted through thr streets, her soul lost somewhere in the distant horizons of dreams and the past.  What taste the present could possibly have was a question, yet she was tasting it. it was tastless, like empty water, ever more so, like the milky fluid from seeds soaked in water that revoltingly so. she was forced to  swallow it, solely to reach a distant future.  Upon touching the kiosk, the future never came. she only moved backward, going and going until she hit a point below that of a fetus, zero.  A stark, empty zero. yet, she never thought it could worsen. to descend ever further below zero, into a negative realm, a spot within a silvery purgatort. then she wondered, which liar holds the exit?