“Passed a broken billboard on our trip today with dad and sister. A huge error message shining against the endless blue sky.
Blue screen of death. Maybe it would be easier for me to wrap my head around the inevitability of death if I think of her as blue. Blue like the ocean, blue like the sky.
Why do I have to make it sad every time? It was a good day.”
Millennium Blue doesn’t feel sadness or longing, it doesn’t feel hope, it never tires and its memories never fade. A perfect observer.
And yet, once an unfeeling machine, now it's moving through a surreal dream. Is it just a glitch, an error caused by age, by the deterioration of components and storage capacity being exhausted? A dream comprised of endless rows of numbers, transmutation of ones and zeros into color, and light, and feeling. Mathematical melancholy.
