Human Form

Artifact#: DB-HFORM-EX00
Token ID: #227725
Edition of: 3
Starting Price: .25 ETH

Artist: Ameer Suhayb Carter

Moniker: SIRSU
Tooling: Illustrator, Photoshop.

Grab on KnownOrigin

Digital Bodies
Human nature informs human forms. The function of the anatomical struture of these bipedal ‘evolved’ creatures enable them to build and destroy at an incalcuable rate—they are dangerous, cunning, crafty, and madly genius. 

Current Holders:

A semi-fictional account of a work experience. (NSFW Language)

Going through an existential crisis—please call back later.

It’s 3:23 pm. A young man in his early 20’s is hunched over his desk slowly scanning the minute details of an app mockup he’s worked on for the past few weeks, down to each individual pixel. The bright, cold blue light is but one in a series of flickering lights in assembly line fashion, complementing the dull grayish landscape of the city peering through the floor-to-ceiling windows surrounding them.

“It’s always been this grey dude. Just sit back and enjoy the drab of modernity.”

He says to himself, feeling the office’s achromatic emptiness. He takes a deep breath and proceeds to insert his headphones, queues up a mix, and pounds on his keyboard to complete the 15th iteration of what he’d made a few weeks prior.

Content with his progress, he saves his work, checks his watch for the time and walks to the break room.

“It’s 3:42 and I haven’t eaten since this morning, fuck.”

The repurposed hallway houses a fleet of porcelain white cabinets, all marked with icons to inform passing employees of their contents. As far as he could tell, there only seemed to be kitchen cutlery, paper-ware and packets with salt, pepper, sugar and Sriracha. Disgruntled, searching for a food icon, and it’s not until after opening every drawer and cabinet door, he notices a sign. In a self-defeating sigh he relents, “Oh it’s…bring your own food. Greaaaaat.”

He’s disappointed that even after three months on the job, he had still forgotten about the bring your own food policy. He begrudgingly resorts to the mini-fridge to ride out the rest of the afternoon. Adding another blow to his psyche, he opens the fridge door, only to realize that the beer — his only chance for temporary relief — is gone.

“Wha—you cannot be—the fucking beer is gone. Just my luck.”

His stomach growls and his hands quiver; irritation is consuming him. A note rests in the vacant, beer-less void of the fridge. He squints to read the appalling, illegible, shitty handwritten note. “This ~truly is~ the worst handwriting…even emoji would be easier to understand.”

Took the last beer. Hope no one else needed it. Sorry! I’ll replace it next week??? :)

— G E O F F 🙂

His hand grips the paper so hard it wrinkles up into a ball. “Seriously, though?” Eyes rolling up toward the ceiling. He lets out a big sigh, “today can’t possibly get any worse.” He unravels the note, “what was this asshole’s name again?” scanning the crinkled paper he quickly found the name spaced out next to the smiling face which, despite the rest of the note, looked perfectly symmetrical.

“Did he really write a note, just so he could draw a perfect emoji? Fucking designers…Goddamn it, Geoff! Fuck you and your smug emoji. You should have taken a class in penmanship you asshat.” He quietly raged.


His stomach was crying out to him. It was asking for anything to fill it; whether it be the stale chips on his now vacant coworker’s desk or the banana in the trash bin. He thought of the banana. He was seriously considering the idea to dig in the trash for a banana…A BANANA. Then, he let the idea ruminate in his brain. His eyes grew wide, top lip curled and his head retracted back as if he were to gag. He instantly regretted the thought of eating what would be compost and went for something more comfortable.

To end his suffering, he reluctantly grabs an iced tea from the fridge,

“Well well…we meet again you bland, tasteless, evil drink. Can’t seem to get rid of you…how could I?”

He gives a light chuckle and it’s not the chuckle of delight, rather the sarcastic, and salty feeling you get when your expectations are crushed by the harshness of reality. He imagines the tea laughing back at him and giving him shit for drinking such a terrible drink; it was labeled Honest Tea after all. His face straightens and closes the fridge door to pull out his cellphone. Head down, walking toward the exit of the break room, he bumps into a custodian knocking papers onto the floor.


The custodian yelped as he dropped to the floor to retrieve his papers.

“Haha. H-Hey man. Watch out. You might…bump into someone and drop your papers. Ha.”

The custodian gives him the meanest side eye he’s ever seen.

“You’re having a bad day I see.”

“…..maybe I am. But who cares right?! The beer is gone, I’ve been designing the same row items for weeks, I haven’t eaten and all I want to do is take my ass to the train station to prepare myself for my two hour commute. At least then I can sleep.”

“Y-yeah okay dude….whatever you say man. Just watch it next time.”

The custodian picks up his papers and proceeds to litter the kitchen with them.

“Fuck my life.”

Dejected, the young man lowers his head and heads back to his desk.