Correction

We don’t want power or speed or variety, we want portals to dimensions where our fantasies are default settings. We want the magic that Newton promised us; alchemistries so simple that any child could transform words into bananas, their yellow into gold and that reflection into everlasting bliss. But we don’t want the heat. We want the wormhole, but not the motion sickness, the rhetoric without the rebound, the muscles not the iron plates. At the end of every cable is a power source, a hub and a translator. This stack identifies, amplifies and resends each packet with a note that says I was here. When it arrives, at the other end of a billion glass strands or a light year of copper wire, the data is extracted by separating it from all this noise. But the message, having been thickened, is never quite the same; the sound remains in deep whisper.