A proper server is heavy and breathes different: it’s an engine for dreams, a quantity for clearance laptops gives triple-digit gigabytes of RAM and multiple physical CPUs. If I had known it – really etched it deep in the bones – I would have four of them by now or a rack. If I could have accumulated scraps of basics into a single line of enterprise gear, it feels time better spent than learning fresh languages.

Why would anyone purchase a glorified display and boast over mobile when the same gets a thin client and an invisible behemoth? Something is wrong with the market equation. It comes down to what we value in engineering, which is the physical necessity of beauty. Aesthetics become something we see in the made, but not from ourselves. Our scattered notes are obsolete before the second read, worth less than the next blue link of the world’s thought.

What I would like to start is a collective, a place to swap scripts and stories, a BBS when more folks want to capture everyone for lifestyles than exclusive experience. That was the same conceit for why storytellers should not work for free; I resolve the hypocrisy by elevating all to create.