February 1st, 2025. The air smells like burning servers.
In Brasília, Ana deletes the last post. The screen flickers, dies. She holds the phone like a grenade. Outside, shouts echo. People run with signs: “Fediverse or death.” She looks at her son, asleep on the couch. “It's for him,” she whispers. But doubt consumes her. What if it's too late? What if he grows up in a worse world?
In Paris, Jean clicks the red button. The account vanishes. He laughs, but the sound is dry, cutting. His girlfriend left him the night before. “You're obsessed,” she said. He stares at the empty screen. “She doesn't get it,” he thinks. But he doesn't get why his spine feels cold. Freedom should be warm, right?
In New York, Maria deletes everything. The photos, the videos, the memories. The screen goes dark. She feels the weight of the past evaporate. But the future is a fog. She looks at the sky, where drones patrol. “They're scared,” someone yells. Maria smiles. For the first time in years, she feels in control. Or maybe it's just chaos disguised as hope.
The world takes a deep breath. The streets are full, but the silence is deafening. Someone lights a bonfire with circuit boards. Others dance around it, like in an ancient ritual. Ana, Jean, and Maria don't know each other, but they are connected. Not by algorithms, but by a choice.
The fediverse waits.