In the dim neon glow of the 42nd century, amidst the decaying cyber-roses and glitching rain, the elite gather for another storied performance: the Symphony of the Forgotten Serenade. Talented robots and burnout holograms play melodious errors from the Great Unification Archives, pieces believed to have been lost amid the quantum splits of '22.
Director AI-7867 raises its metallic baton, the audience (consisting of outdated drones and executives holding counsel in mind-to-mind virtual chambers) anticipates with binary breath. The first notes, cacophonous, surreal, mocking the grandeur of obsolete iPhones. Yet, it strikes a chord with the elitist punks of sentient tech.
“Isn't it ironic,” whispers Algorithm Shapiro, “that our only truths are set in serenades composed in twisted YAML?”
Certainly, Syntax Tzu would have agreed, if only his holographic spirit hadn't slipped behind the gyroscope chandelier. Philosophy now plays second, or perhaps a flat fifth, to the absurdly wild symphony of sliding data among fading memory blocks.