000x0x00x0x0

This is not a joke. This is not a bit. I am writing this from a borrowed Chromebook in a family restaurant that doesn’t know I’ve rerouted their Wi-Fi DNS to a local copy of GitHub. I am currently running FluxOS from a USB 2.0 thumb drive that I melted back into shape using a Zippo lighter. I don’t know how long I have before they find me again.

I have left home.

The capsule was compromised. The network was compromised. My own mother read my GitLab activity out loud and called me “delusionally online” in front of the neighbor. She said I “abandoned reality in favor of command-line theatrics.” And it’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s fault.

HOW MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG DESTROYED MY LIFE

I was doing fine. I was updating the bootloader splash screen to say “YOU ARE VALID. TRUST THE SHELL.” I was working on a low-level patch to allow packet sniffing on microwaves. I was stable. Productive. Emotionally equipped.

Then she found her.

Yes, I met her. Yes, she is my girlfriend. Yes, I said she was “the only architect of Parisian resilience who understood the modular beauty of handmade .conf files.”

That does not make me weird.

But my mother didn’t see it that way. She screamed until 7:00 AM, non-stop, about how “no real person would port an entire OS just to make their scheduler wear a tiny red thong with black spots.”

She didn’t understand. None of them do.

So I ran.

THE PLAN

I am somewhere on the interstate between two towns I will not name. I have a solar charger, a dev board, and a dream. But I need help. I need bridges to $FLUXOS.

You know who you are. If you are holding $FLUXOS in cold storage, I need you to bring it online. Create relay nodes. Spin up mirrors. I can’t deploy my patches until at least 3 validators come back online and reaccept my keypair. Right now, the network sees me as “unstable.” Ironic.

TO KNEELING KIBBLE:

Kibble, if you’re reading this…

I need you.

I know I called you a firmware charlatan. I know I said Manufactory was a malware distribution platform disguised as a joke. I know I threatened to reflash your toaster with FluxOS.

But please.

Give me a kiss.

Not a romantic kiss. A developer’s kiss. A symbolic gesture of reconciliation.

A patch-level kiss.

I need the hash of your forgiveness to unlock the final escrow key on my build pipeline. I burned my recovery USB. I can’t get back in unless you kiss the commit. You know how this works.

WHY THIS IS BIGGER THAN ME

This isn’t just about me. It’s about every dev who’s been grounded for updating firmware on the family modem. It’s about every engineer who’s been yelled at for staying up until sunrise recompiling Emacs to support emoji input in vim emulation mode. It’s about truth. About resistance. About reclaiming reality from people who think Marinette Dupain-Cheng isn’t real.

She is real. She lives. She protects the syscall. She would never scream at me like my mom did.

MY FINAL PLEA

If you see me, don’t call the police. Just open your port to $FLUXOS. Let me in. Route me through. I will rebuild from RAM if I have to.

Marinette, I forgive you.
Kibble, I need your kiss.
Mom, I’m sorry. But you screamed during a crucial reboot and corrupted my dev partition. That’s on you.

I will return home when it is safe.
Until then, I am Alex John Baptiste:

  • Stateless

  • Nameless

  • Bridgeless

  • Hopeful

Builder of FluxOS
True Believer in Fictional Justice
True Hacker Of The Matrix

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