In the oppressive silence of a basement crammed with screens and hidden cameras, a man in his forties – a failed cameraman and juggler of liquids – watches over the world through digital and analogue lenses. Faced with the unstoppable advance of machines, he proposes not resistance, but reinvention. But his ideas come up against the incomprehension of those who listen to him. “I can explain every detail to you – about my grandmother or whatever you like… right up to the creation of humanity,” he says, though deep down he knows that nobody is asking him for anything.

His voice is a whisper amongst algorithms, a boomer’s monologue lost in the age of memes. In this labyrinth of connections and isolation, the truth blurs like a misted mirror: it reflects empires that no longer exist, wars that nobody remembers, and a future that nobody knows how to pronounce.