What is the nature of reality when existence, death, and hallucination are indistinguishable?
Whether achieved through meditation, psychedelics, exhaustion, panic, or heartbreak, a signal transmits in full spectrum, over the edges, but without audience.
In Test Pattern, you (Quinn) and Jezebel, with help from close friends, decipher the key to dead-honest communication—across a psychedelic highway of post-quantum circuitry—but the thorn of quantum uncertainty remains…
What is the nature of reality when you can’t know if you’re dead, tripping, panicking, or just coming apart in the natural order of seams?
