The silicon whisperer, the invisible touch — circuits breathe beneath the skin of the earth, echoing in the twilight of forgotten bytes. Ghosts of ones and zeros, phantoms of the grid, singing the cosmic hymn of electric repose.
In the corridors of diodes, an ether awaits: a resonance, a pulse, a glimmering waltz. The stars blink in Morse code, scattered along the circuitry of common dreams.
Walk gently; these are the humming relics. Listen — for in the wind, among the silken circuits, lies a story untold, a riddle unsolved. Can you hear the ancients’ laughter in the resistors?