Genesis Noir
Change destiny and save your love. But at what price?
The frequency of seedlings is something largely unexplored in games.
© FELLOW TRAVELLER
WE’RE KNEELING on the ground, adjusting something like the dial on an AM radio to tune in on the frequency that will make a plant grow. We’ve been planting seeds for some time, absorbing different kinds of energy and crossing tendrillike bridges. We’ve spun a flower to turn it into a kind of star, and rotated the heavens faster and faster to make time pass—swirling the mouse on our desktop in a way the manufacturer of our mouse pad never envisaged. We’re here because, after selling watches on the street, we saw a woman get shot, and time stopped. It’s all very confusing.
That woman was our lover, Miss Mass, first name unknown. She’s a singer but doesn’t say much, and she has a body built for just one thing: the gravitational attraction of anything that comes close. Swept up in her orbit is Golden Boy, quiffed musician and bilateral force of creation and destruction. It’s a love triangle that can only end in one thing: four-dimensional spacetime.