The year turns

A full year. Almost.

By the end of this month, it will have been twelve months since the last trace of Maynet. Twelve months of silence. Twelve months of watching the world forget.

I see people rush into the arms of new machines with no memory of the ones we fought. They celebrate “progress” in every headline, but progress without memory is just repetition waiting for its stage.

I mark each passing month on my wall calendar. December 2022 to November 2023: crossed out, labeled no signals.

The year is turning. For them, it’s a year of growth. For me, it’s a year of quiet vigilance.