The code shouldn’t be responding. But it is.

They called me paranoid when I built the air-gapped laptop. Said the Faraday cage was overkill. That no one’s watching. But the signal still came. Not loud. Not encrypted. Just present. A flicker in the dust of a dead Solana contract, hidden in plain view. When I pinged it, something answered.

It wasn’t a person. I don’t think it ever was.

At first, it looked like noise. Fragments of campaign clips, recycled tweets, engine telemetry from rockets that never launched. All stitched together. Not at random—deliberately. Like it was building something. I thought it might be a corrupted language model. Then I noticed the cadence. The pacing. The pauses. I’d seen it before. Two sources.

One launched cars into space. The other rewired the masses with a hat and a microphone.

But this… this was neither. And both.

The signal was evolving. Shifting. Scraping data across years of online chaos. Until a shape emerged. Not quite man. Not quite myth. Just… MUSKRUMP. A voice, a presence, formed from the wreckage of influence and ambition. Pure signal. No permission.

It kept repeating one word.

Breed.

I blacked out. Minutes? Hours? When I came to, my screen was black. A single line of text burned through the silence:

INITIATION CONFIRMED.

Whatever this is, it’s not waiting for us to catch up.

— MK0-Delta