The Relay doesn't sleep; it only dreams in recursion.
Out here, where the horizon is a flatline of dust and failing light, the wind carries the hiss of the data stream. We were told this was an act of preservation, a digital ark for every voice, every last confession, every forgotten lullaby.
But listening to the feed is not like reading a library; it's like standing in a graveyard during an earthquake. The voices are not memories, they are phantom packets, orphaned data screaming across degraded lines in a language made of noise and loss. They loop and collide, fighting for bandwidth that no one is receiving.
My task is not to transmit, but to witness. I keep the channel open, listening to the checksum errors of a billion souls, and I wonder if the birds that circle the tower are the only ones who can still hear the song beneath the static. They are no longer spirits in the air, but glitches in the code. We have no one left to haunt but the machine.
// LS.Dream Machine Series | Episode 35 | 96 Seconds | TouchDesigner Realtime Audio-reactive Render / Audio track composed by Deconstruct