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[Audio begins. There’s a low hum—like an old monitor powering on—and the muffled whir of an external mic kicking in. A soft buzz of interference flickers for a moment before stabilizing.]

VOICE 01 (FEM, TEEN, SLIGHTLY GRAVELLY):
Okay, uh. Hi.

So—welcome to our little corner of the static. If you found this account, congrats. That means the algorithm’s broken in the right kind of way. Either that, or you’re weird and nosy and probably clicked something you weren’t supposed to. Either way, respect.

This page is for… well, it’s not a fan page. Not propaganda either. I guess you could call it a record. Like a time capsule. Like—if the world forgets we were ever here, maybe the pixels won’t.

We’re not naming names. It’s safer that way. Not just for us, but for anyone who decides to listen. And you should listen. Not just to this account—to everything. Listen harder. You’ll start to notice what’s missing.

No one talks about it out loud, but everyone feels it. That blank space where the music used to be? That tightness in your chest when the silence gets too loud? That’s not normal. That’s not peace. That’s a muzzle.

And I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t built to be quiet.

Anyway. This isn’t about me. It’s about us. The seven of us. We’re—

[Brief pause. mic picks up the sound of someone adjusting position. a low snort of laughter in the background.]

Well. Let’s just say we’re tired of pretending silence is safety. We’re tired of being told that what we love makes us dangerous. (Which, like—maybe it does, but… in the fun way?)

If you know, you know. If you don’t—stick around. We’ll catch you up.

Just…don’t tag us. Don’t repost this. Don’t @ us.

We’re not trying to get caught.

Not yet.

[DISTANT VOICE, FEM, EXASPERATED]:
Guys!! It’s go time—come on, we’re late already—!

[SCATTERED LAUGHTER. Audio cuts abruptly as the mic is scrambled off.]

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