The servers hum like a cathedral made of cold breath. Rows of black monoliths exhale heat into a winter of fluorescent light, and somewhere in that machine midnight—so we’re told—there might be a version of you. Not your pulse, not your messy, mammalian chemistry, but a pattern: the way you turned a sentence, the laugh you couldn’t help, the heat map of your choices. It’s a seduction with chrome edges. … Read the rest
