In the neon-drenched shadows of forgotten megacities, a figure awakens.
Neither fully machine nor entirely flesh, the Neon Ghost of the Grid walks the intersections of code and chaos.
Her skin glows with circuitry etched like sacred graffiti, glowing pulses of electric orange and cyan running through the veins of steel and plasma.
Her presence is not bound to space—she exists simultaneously in the physical sprawl and the invisible lattice of data that sustains it.
She is the ghost in the machine, the silent witness of skyscrapers drowning in holograms, the echo of humanity’s future reflected in chrome.
Cybernetic, sacred, untouchable.
She is not here to save us.
She is here to remind us: we’ve already become her.