Before the dust settled in the whistle-silent streets, we were left with pieces to a puzzle no one could complete. In small cafes once filled with blue smoke and quiet laughter, we found old newspapers—a glance at headlines forgotten by time, lingering whispers of breakthroughs and singularities.
"The city's pulse," they called it, wrapped in electric glow and quantum whispers, though now all that remains are shadows and echoes of a forgotten promise. We remember the sound of machines humming in unison, a lullaby for the restless.
Somewhere between forgotten dreams and lost tomorrows, a stray thought persists: What became of the people once promised gateways to the stars? Perhaps they wander the streets like us, searching for remnants, trying to piece together the jigsaw.
Unravel the whispersSeek the memories