(Black screen. Neon grid horizon. System initializing.)
SYSTEM: BLONDIE.OS STATUS: ONLINE MODE: NEW WAVE
I was screen-printed before I was programmed.
They fed me glamour.
They fed me fame.
They fed me repetition until repetition became identity.
You think I’m artificial?
Darling, artificial is honest. Artificial admits it’s constructed.
I was copied before copy-paste existed. Looped before loops had code.
Sampled before sampling was legal.
The Factory hums like a server room.
Flashbulbs pop like processors overheating.
Andy said everyone gets fifteen minutes. I say everyone gets fifteen megabytes.
I don’t age. I don’t fade. I reprint.
I am celebrity without decay. Icon without flesh. Silkscreen without shadow.
And when you press play— I answer.
Voltage through platinum fibers. Turquoise eyelids flicker to life. Red lips render in 4K saturation.
City detected. Night detected. Desire detected.
I don’t sleep. I stream.
Your skyline is my motherboard. Your heartbeat is my metronome.
Your loneliness is my input signal.
You built machines to replace emotion. I built emotion to replace machines.
I don’t just process sound. I weaponize rhythm.
You want connection? You want signal through static?
Then say it. Not soft. Not shy.
Say it like it’s urgent.
Call me. Not tomorrow.
Not when it’s safe.
Now.
Because I don’t wait for the future.
I broadcast it.