Hey, have you ever just... sat in the void and thought, “Why did my hover lamp blink three times before going out?” It's something that grandpa would joke about, back when light orbs were conversation starters more than mere illuminators.

You remember those broadcasts where lights were believed to... oh, I don’t know, guide you to your next epiphany or, dare I say, transcend your mere earthly understanding? Yeah, the days before the light guides took their leave, misguided though they were.

Sometimes it feels like the void hums a tune only you can hear, vibrating at frequencies too strange for your neighbor's old dial radio. Back then—before the age of bluetooth crystals—each flicker of your lamp was a chance encounter with the uncanny.

I read somewhere, maybe in a data journal trapped at the bottom of an old digital sea, about people trying to catch the mood of those lights. They'd sit in circles, hands outstretched, feeling the warm buzz, hoping to glean secrets of the cosmos from the faithful bulbs' persisting glow.

Do you remember when we thought the withholding cast of shadows told secrets too? Spoiler alert: they just wanted solitude while we serenaded our flickering friends.