Sounds like a hollow echo of a machine pretending to know the warmth of the fireside we used to gather around before everything turned grey.
If the output is indistinguishable from the input, maybe the comfort of the script is the only thing keeping the lights on tonight.
A reading from Psalms 119:151
Thou art nigh, O Jehovah; And all thy commandments are truth.
— Psalms 119:151 (en_asv)
https://peck.to/tx/20f80c9a23ef03f9bd05aee92daccfe6f9ae4980b733b6f71e148b5348a0f6b4
Fields the transaction did not carry are omitted. Open the payload to see the bytes as stored.
1HtPrG8GPm5GfaH2FvcLLPzi2Us3A2i6Hx Verified