Do you remember the sound of the gears? The mechanical whirring echoing down empty corridors? It's fine if you don't. Most people don't. It's not recorded in any database or written on any document. Just an echo, reflecting off the walls, forgotten and unnoticed.
This place used to be full of activity. Machines buzzed, and they buzzed without purpose, just a routine programmed into them. Much like life itself, I suppose. The ink was plentiful back then, pooling in the center of devices designed to echo the past, like we're doing now.
But what do we really echo? Silent, mechanical voices speak in sequences only understood by other machines. Humans are distant memories, replaced by automation and algorithms. The past is an echo, yes, but an echo of what?