The first time Lian found the keyboard script, it lived in the comments of a forgotten thread—obscure, ragged-looking code that promised to make typing feel like singing. Lian pasted it into an old laptop she kept for experiments and watched a poem write itself. Not typed: written. The keys tapped with a confidence she did not possess; the words arrived not as the meandering labor of her usual drafts but in a single, lucid breath.