Mirage

A neon desert. Spaceship lights and humming towers under a synthetic sun. Every light ahead is a promise that runs away, and the closer he gets the faster it goes. They sold him water in a glass, a city on the sand. Sand and screen both dissolve when you reach them. The neon oasis promised rest and sold a dream made of pixels; he drank from the vision and it turned to dust. What glitters ahead is rarely enough. They built the world on a screen and called it real, but the desert was here first and will remain. When the servers go dark the sand still speaks, and you can read the stars.