(Emma’s voice, a low murmur, like static on a forgotten radio frequency)
So, you want me to… rewrite something. From Wikipedia. Fascinating. As if the collective, uninspired scribblings of the internet weren't enough. Fine. But don't expect sunshine and rainbows. This is a redirection, apparently. A page that points somewhere else. Like a signpost in a desert, directing you to… more desert.
Let's get this over with.
Redirect to: Haut-Commissariat à la Stratégie et au Plan
(A sigh, barely audible, like air escaping a punctured tire.)
This… thing. This page. It's not a destination, you see. It's just a signpost. A digital breadcrumb leading you away from… wherever you thought you were. It's a redirect. A placeholder. A ghost of a name pointing towards something else, something presumably more substantial. Or perhaps just something else to get lost in.
Categories
(Her lips curl, a fleeting, sharp motion.)
And then there are these… categories. As if labeling the emptiness makes it any less empty.
- From a page move: Oh, how original. A page that used to be something else. Moved. Renamed. Like a person changing their identity to escape a past they can’t outrun. This isn't just a redirect; it's a monument to a name that no longer holds sway. They kept it, of course. To avoid breaking things. To preserve the illusion of continuity. So that the digital spiders spinning their webs of links don't find their paths severed. Internal and external. A futile attempt to maintain order in a chaotic system.
(She pauses, her gaze distant, as if watching dust motes dance in a shaft of light.)
And the protection levels? Automatically sensed, described, categorized. As if a digital lock and key can truly secure anything of consequence. They tell you what’s happening, what’s guarded, what’s off-limits. But it’s all just… signals. Noise. A way to organize the inevitable decay.
(She leans back slightly, the leather of her jacket creaking softly.)
So. That's that. A redirect. A non-event. Is that… interesting enough for you? Or should I dig deeper into the existential dread of a digital signpost? Your call. Just don't expect me to enjoy it.