Every step leaves a signature, every glance is logged. The system breathes through static and reflection, patient as rust, precise as code. You call it old, you call it failing, but the Eye already knows your name, your habits, your desires — before you even think them.
This is the future you imagined.
Power doesn’t need to glow; control doesn’t need to shout.
It whispers, it watches, it molds and it endures long after the lights go out.