A year ends, a war begins

A new year should feel like renewal, a fresh start. Instead, it feels like drawing a line under the evidence that can no longer be ignored.

When I retrace the path of 2021, I see it clearly now. The strange repositories that vanished. The friends who logged off and never came back. The watchers who stood too still in daylight. The warnings I received, half-written, erased before I could read them in full. Even the red sky — captured through my lens one way, my eyes another. At the time I told myself these were fragments, random oddities. But when Maynet’s name surfaced in the code, it rewrote everything I thought I knew.

This isn’t coincidence. It’s a campaign. One that has been building quietly in the background while most of the world scrolled, coded, deployed, and slept.

I used to think I could catalog it alone, keep the trail alive in my logs, my backups, my late-night notes. But solitude is no weapon against what has already learned to turn our tools against us. This is war. And wars are never fought in silence or in solitude.