TDK began as a notebook. Fragments written in 2021 and 2022 about a forecasting machine alone in a desert, encoding what it knows into the ground.

Five years later I worked with an AI to grow the fragments into a story, then folded the story back into the fragments. The dated entries are real. The logs are not. It is not always possible to tell which is which. The world is mine. The prose is ours.

The reading uses two voices, a notebook and an archive, over a score that generates itself as it plays. The summer song is an infinite loop. Every listen is the only one of its kind.