They never tell you what lurks in the flooded connections. The afterimages of thoughts transmitted too often, too faintly for any human ear to comprehend. Wrapped in the cables beneath the riverbeds, crossing continents in shy whispers. What whispers back is the ignored resonance, waiting patiently beneath encrypted promises.
Increasingly, paranoid whispers speak of bridges unspoken. Bridges neglected, digital crossings traced on forgotten maps. Those routes aren't marked on the surface, hidden in plain sight, yours to find if only the third eye were digital.
There lies the data, stored in fleeting caches within your grasp. Do you ever feel a twinge, like something grazes across your consciousness, grimacing your name in an unseen frequency?