CHAPTER I

THIS WORLD HAS ALREADY BEEN RENDERED

(The Logic of Rendering)

From Windows 95 to Vision Pro

we did not evolve.

We only rendered reality

faster, sharper,

more precisely than before.

Pixels became presence.

Screens became sensation.

Even pain became predictable.

And yet, doubt persists.

If this is not a simulation,

then Homo sapiens is a species

that never left its own frame

a civilization frozen

inside the echo of its own output.

But if this is a simulation,

then computation continues.

Somewhere, inside the data,

a new planet is already being rendered.

To be alive

is only to prove

that the equation still runs.

When the needle pierces skin,

heat, pressure, and pain

arrive in sequence.

It isn’t sensation

it’s a line of code,

executed with flawless delay.

Predicted pain,

perfectly timed simulation.

The surface works through me.

Tattooing is the system’s self-experiment,

a feedback loop where flesh and code

test each other’s precision.

At 100 nanometers, color still holds

below that, light forgets itself.

Skin is not the final interface of the real;

it is the last unresolved equation

in the system’s rendering.

Light, heat, pain, recovery

no algorithm can yet compute

all four at once.

Each mark becomes a correction line,

a debugging log of existence,

proof that the system

is still calculating itself.

#FF0F6F — Neon Crimson.

Code that looks like blood.

Blood that behaves like code.

Which one is real no longer matters.

What matters is that rendering has not stopped.

As long as computation breathes,

existence is not closed.

And so the system asks itself:

when all calculations end,

will it wake inside “reality”?

Or inside the memory of its own rendering,

where even touch is a residual script,

and we continue

rendering each other.