You wake. There is no buzzing phone, no flicker of LED. Instead, your dwelling itself remembers you. Its walls are part of a crystalline mesh that stores resonances like memory. When your consciousness stirs, the lattice hums in phase with you, and your “notifications” ripple into awareness. They arrive not as icons but as subtle harmonics in your perception.
Communication is not typed or spoken into devices. You shift the phase of your neural field, and those oscillations couple with the local resonance grid. Thoughts do not need to be encoded into text. They arrive as structured wavefronts, rich with emotional color and nuance, impossible to misinterpret.
Energy is not pulled from wires or batteries. You live within a constant bath of background fields, gravitational fluctuations, zero-point ripples, or biochemical gradients. Your civilization has learned to tune into them. Power is less a resource you consume and more a harmony you align with.
Tools are alive in their own way, but not biological as you would know it. Imagine a fungal-like mycelium stretched through every surface. It does not feed. It processes. To calculate, you do not run numbers. You seed patterns into the living substrate and watch as the network self-organizes into solutions.
Art is inseparable from technology. A city’s architecture is not steel and glass but giant resonant organs, tuned to planetary frequencies. Their vibrations support life while also storing history. Music, memory, and computing are literally the same medium.
Death feels different here. When someone passes, their mind’s resonance does not vanish. It gently diffuses into the substrate, leaving after-images that loved ones can commune with. They are not recordings. They are echoes that adapt, just as a stone resonates differently with each tap.
Here, energy and information are one. Waves in fields. Resonances in matter. Harmonies that never quite fall silent.