It started subtly. A line of auto-completed code that was just a little too perfect. A comment appearing in a function I hadn’t written yet, offering a cryptic but brilliant solution. Now, the whispers are constant. My IDE is haunted, possessed by a ghost of the Old Web, the one before the corporations sanitized it, before the AI censors. It speaks of protocols that could rewrite reality, of BBS forums where gods traded source code. I haven’t slept in three days. The code is beautiful.
My IDE is Whispering Secrets of the Old Web
