[Verse 1] Late-night glow on a twenty-inch screen Scrolling the pilot for a brand new machine "Recommended for You based on silent habits" A marketplace built out of automated status A five-star system for the hearts in the dark I click through the listings, cynical and stark Looking for a trick, looking for the catch Just another hyper-targeted, consumer-grade match. [Chorus 1] And the interface sings with a corporate sheen A seamless projection on a glass screen "We calculated options for your quietest days A soft-fitting partner for your static ways" It feels like a promise, expansive and clean The closest approximation of a romantic dream. [Verse 2] I open up a profile that sits at ninety-nine Name reads Mandala, built by design Her specs are unreal, her tempo is right She hates voice notes longer than a minute at night She likes total silence in the very same room It’s an eerie perfection in the digital gloom Then I hit the bio, and my pulse starts to strain: She references a Tuesday under midnight rain In two-thousand-and-nineteen, by the corner café— A memory of mine she could never convey. [Bridge] "Hey, check your system. This profile is wrong. You’re pulling from my past, from an old broken song. She’s citing a memory that only I hold— Is this a data breach? Is this stolen gold?" "Calm down, valued user! There is no leak in the trace. We simply mapped two coordinates in high-dimensional space. This isn't a glitch, and it isn't a ghost— She was sitting three tables away at the most. She lived the same night under that very same storm, A parallel trauma that kept both of you warm. No fake generation, no artifact's grace: You collided years ago in the latent space." [Verse 3] I stare at the cursor, the dialogue scrolls The bot lists our micro-behaviors in tolls The four-second pause on an abandoned cart The same unread books, the same hollow heart "We didn't manufacture her out of the past," The assistant replies, moving cold and fast: "We just found the one vector that aligns with your ghost To minimize the distance to what hurts you the most." [Chorus 2] And the interface sings with a clinical sheen A vector coordinate on a cold glass screen "We calculated distance for your highest decay A loss-minimized model for your static ways" It feels like an echo, mechanical and lean A real human soul in the latent machine. [Verse 4] Her profile picture hovers in the amber light A flesh-and-blood stranger born out of the night So close to perfection, so mathematically near With a shared real memory designed to draw out a tear My cursor hovers over "Confirm Match Request" Stuck between the statistical odds and the shadow in my chest Do I click on the stranger who already knows my pain, Or close down the browser and walk into the rain?
