My life fades. The vision dims. All that remains are memories. I remember a time of chaos. Ruined dreams. This wasted land. But most of all, I remember The Road Warrior. The man we called "c-rock". To understand who he was, you have to go back to another time. When the world was powered by BTC. And the Internet sprouted great cities of 1s and 0s. Gone now, swept away. For reasons long forgotten, warrior tribes went to war and touched off a blaze which engulfed them all. Without BTC, they were nothing. They built a house of straw. The thundering machines sputtered and stopped. Their leaders talked and talked and talked. But nothing could stem the avalanche. Their world crumbled. The cities exploded. A whirlwind of looting, a firestorm of fear. Men began to feed on men. On the Intenet it was a white line nightmare. Only those mobile enough to scavenge, brutal enough to pillage would survive. The gangs took over the exchanges, ready to wage war for a BTC. And in this maelstrom of decay, ordinary men were battered and smashed. Men like c-rock. The warrior c-rock. In the roar of an overclocked GPU, he lost everything. And became a shell of a man, a burnt out, desolate man, a man haunted by the demons of his past, a man who wandered out into the wasteland. And it was here, in this blighted place, that he learned to live again...