this is just a room

This is just a room. And in this room is a screen where the cyber-world enters. A world that becomes a black mirror when it sleeps. It reflects the room rather than emitting the digital barrage of signals; it shows rather than tells.
 This room is now lit, the light comes by the window from the southwest. On the screen I see my room lit and my mind is a midden of thoughts and associations; a mirror of habit, a series of solar pulses through my pupils sparking electrical impulses of the mind.
Yet what is a mirror? What is it to see? Perception is a process we have learned. A built cage where we ignore the bars. I see only within the confines of my eyes and the mind, the way it processes the images like the brilliant quick flickering on the screen. A persistence of vision. A need for narrative.

This is just a room. A room where I sit now. In this room is a human thought-talking to himself, trying to create the very thing that is doing the creating. Trying to create the way light shines and reflects, the way his eyes and mind habits try to make something of this. Can I remove myself from this picture? Can I call this anything else but a room? Do fish know they swim in the sea?
Signals. Ones and noughts for the electronic wonderland; neurological pulses for the mind. I try to put it together. I see. I capture it in the ones and noughts and send it thus to you. For your dendrites to spark a connection or not. All these signals need a master. All these signals need a slave.
So, this is a room. I am sitting right here as you read, whether you see me or not, and there is a spot at the furthest reaches of this expanding universe. We will never see it, but can imagine it. It is there, there in the mind of we humans. It exists.