null is a novel woven from fragments of real lives broken by technology, drowning in a recursive ocean of oblique references to the real and unreal, to ephemeral memes and the future of the time in which it was written. This darkly humorous work of cyberpunk-styled magical surrealism is not easy to read – little is explained, the reader must do much of the work. It is not expected to sell, be popular or entertaining. It would be confined to a dusty HDD and never exposed to the public except for that null exists because of the Internet. So here, Internet. I put it in your hands. This is your problem now. Take it. Make of it what you will. Deal with it. This is your fault too.
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