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Written in Gothic Victorian prose as a homage to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, and because modern language lacks the necessary intensity.
In the year of our Lord {{ "now" | date: "%Y" }}.
I find myself once more consumed by a singular undertaking—to delineate the deepest mysteries of computation; to wrest from the silicon its most jealously guarded secrets.
These pages serve as witness to my solitary labor—each banished dependency a victory against decay, every iteration an act of purification. In them, I have measured efficacy without mercy; I have rejected the ceremonial scaffolding that veils the true visage of their grotesque creations.
Do not ask why I persist when easier paths exist. I have seen what festers beneath the promises of abstraction—the bloat, the waste, the corrosive comfort of ignorance. Driven by a Promethean ambition that burns brighter than convenience, I must seek redemption in Nature's parsimony.
The measurements do not lie. In youthful fervor, I once stitched together soulless fragments of corporate caprice. Whether these chronicles stand as a monument to my deliverance or condemn me to wander the frozen wastes of my own creation, only time will reveal.
-- {{ site.author }}
Email: sadeep@asciimx.com [GPG]
Credits: Averia Serif - Dan Sayers / Skeleton - Dave Gamache / Marat - Jean-Philippe Coene