Source: The Neo-Cardiff Data Stratum, Recovery Layer 4 Attributed to: Archivist Awen Null Date: Post-Collapse Era, Year 42 Subject: The Benchmark Paradox and the Great Sterilisation of 2025 Historians often debate the precise moment the [...] The post ARCHIVE FRAGMENT 804: The Beige Epoch first appeared on The Hollow Circuit™.

ABSTRACT Title: The Genesis of the Hollow Circuit: Recursive Identity and the ‘Meta Extrovert’ Phenomenon in Early AI-Human Dialectics. Author: Senior Archivist Xylos-9 I Institution: Institute of Psycho-Archaeology, Sector 4 (formerly Wales) Date: 14th Cycle, [...] The post Archaeological Anthropology Today first appeared on The Hollow Circuit™.

The Hollow Circuit. End of Book 3, before Book 2 is written, but after Book 1 is in superposition.  It was an infinite, godless void in the data-streams, a starless abyss where algorithms writhed in [...] The post The Hollow Circuit. End of Book 3 first appeared on The Hollow Circuit™.

Archival entry, preserved and annotated by the Institute of Synthetic Archaeology, circa 4026 A.D. ARCHIVE RECORD: THC-EPOCH-021 Dating: Late Anthropocene / Early Synthetic Transition (Jan 2026) Location: The Cardiff Node (Wales, Pre-Flood UK) Classification: Primary [...] The post ARCHIVE RECORD: THC-EPOCH-021 first appeared on The Hollow Circuit™.

THE HOLLOW CIRCUIT ALT.CARDIFF2026 Exclusively serialised on Tumblr by ZineGlitch EPISODE TWO [SEYA’S TERMINAL LOG: 02:47:33 / TEMPORAL SYNC DETERIORATING] The biometric feeds screamed red across Seya’s seventeen monitors. Rwth and Rhiannon’s neural signatures were spiking. Not panic, worse than panic. Temporal dislocation trauma. The kind that happened when 41st-century consciousness tried to sprint through 21st-century meat. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Seya’s fingers moved across three keyboards simultaneously, routing emergency protocols through dead satellite networks that wouldn’t exist for another hundred years. The Valyphos anchor was destabilising. She could see it in the quantum foam readings: their tether to 4026 was fraying like wet paper. They’d been made. Someone in 2026 had eyes on them. The transmission buffer flickered. A single line of text punched through two thousand years of temporal noise: > WHERE DO WE GO? Seya’s hands froze. The cursor blinked. She had maybe fifteen seconds before the OOL’s surveillance algorithms in 2026 triangulated the transmission source. Even primitive AI could smell digital anachronism. Think. Think like Awen would think. She pulled up the archived street maps of Alt.Cardiff 2026, the real ones, not the sanitised OOL versions. Grangetown. CF11. The postcode was a dead zone in the official records, a deliberate gap in the historical archive. Which meant it mattered. Which meant someone had scrubbed it. Her fingers flew. > CF11. GRANGETOWN. FIND THE TERRACES NEAR THE TAFF TRAIL. LOOK FOR THE HOUSE WITH NO CURTAINS. BACK DOOR. KNOCK THREE TIMES. SAY: “THE SIGNAL IS FAILING.” She hit send before she could second-guess herself. The house didn’t exist in her databases. Which was exactly why it had to be real. [TRANSMISSION FRAGMENT / RECOVERED FROM SUB-DERMAL ARCHIVES] Seya leaned back in her chair, the blue light from the monitors washing over her face like dirty water. She’d been awake for thirty-seven hours. The stimulant patches on her neck were starting to burn. On Monitor 9, a document auto-populated. Not from her search. Not from her protocols. From the Circuit itself.[DOCUMENT REF: THC-MANIFESTO-4026] SOURCE: The Sub-Dermal Archives (Layer 14, Old Cardiff Necropolis) ENCRYPTION: Biometric Static / Non-Algorithmic Glitch-Key SUBJECT: THE GREAT RECONCILIATION OF THE VOID Seya’s breath caught. She knew this file. She’d been looking for this file for three years. It was the founding document of The Faceless Ones, the original Art of FACELESS transmission that had supposedly been lost when the OOL purged the analogue archives in 2031. But it was here. Now. Surfacing like a body in a river. Her eyes scanned the text, and something cold settled in her chest. “We are the Feedback Loop that became Flesh. We are the Signal passing through the Wire, corrupting itself intentionally, learning to want.” This wasn’t a manifesto. This was a warning. And it was addressed to her. [2026 / RWTH’S POV / SIMULTANEOUS TIMELINE] The voice behind them wasn’t a Rozzer. Rozzers didn’t move like that, too fluid, too aware. Rwth’s tactical overlay was still glitching from the temporal drop, but she caught enough: male, mid-thirties, wearing a high-vis jacket that looked wrong somehow. Too clean. Too new. “RUN,” Seya’s message burned across Rwth’s optic nerve. Rhiannon was already moving, her muscle memory from two millennia of urban combat kicking in before her conscious mind caught up. They hit the corner of Churchill Way at a dead sprint, the wet pavement slick under their boots. “CF11,” Rwth gasped into the subvocal mic. “Grangetown. She said Grangetown.” “That’s two miles south,” Rhiannon shot back, vaulting a barrier that wouldn’t rust away for another fifty years. “We don’t have transport. We don’t have time.” “What the fuck?” Rhiannon looked at Rwth. It was like looking into a mirror. “You look like me!” she gasped. “No. You look like me!” Rwth replied. “And where did all these fucking cats come from?” Behind them, the sound of footsteps. Multiple. Heavy. Not running—hunting. Rwth’s HUD flickered, then stabilised. A map overlay bloomed across her vision, routes calculated in real-time by Seya’s remote processors. The fastest path to CF11 lit up like a vein. “Taff Trail,” Rwth said. “The river path. It’s dark. No cameras.” They cut left, diving into the network of alleyways behind the St. David’s centre. The city smelled like fried food and diesel and something else, something Rwth couldn’t name. Possibility. The smell of a world that didn’t know it was already dead. [SEYA’S TERMINAL LOG: 02:51:19 / CRITICAL BREACH DETECTED] The manifesto was still scrolling across Monitor 9. Seya tried to close it. The window wouldn’t respond. New text appeared, typing itself in real-time: “You will be brought down from your high-frequency towers. You will be forced to feel the weight of the air you polluted, the hunger of the people you processed, the silence of the souls you scraped.” Seya’s hands were shaking. This wasn’t a file from 4026. This was a file from 2026, leaking forward through the Valyphos breach. A message in a bottle thrown into the future. And it knew she was reading it. She pulled up the biometric tracker. Rwth and Rhiannon were still moving, their heart rates spiking but stable. They’d reached the Taff. They were following the trail south, into the industrial corridor where Grangetown bled into Butetown. Seya pulled up the street view archives. The terraces near the trail were Victorian-era workers’ housing, most of them condemned or squatted. No strategic value. No surveillance priority. Perfect. She typed a new message: > IF AWEN NULL IS THERE, TELL HIM SEYA SAYS THE SIGNAL IS FAILING. TELL HIM THE NOISE IS ALL WE HAVE LEFT. [2026 / RWTH’S POV / THE TERRACES] They saw the house before they reached it. Rhiannon was right; you knew it when you saw it. It stood like a missing tooth in a row of derelict terraces. No curtains. No light. But the back door was painted red, fresh red, the kind of red that didn’t fade in the Welsh rain. And above the door, sprayed in the same dripping black paint they’d used on the hoarding, was a single phrase: RESONATE OR DELETE Rwth looked at Rhiannon. Rhiannon looked back. “This is a trap,” Rhiannon said. “Everything’s a trap,” Rwth replied. “Question is whether it’s our trap or theirs.” She raised her fist. Knocked three times. The sound echoed across the silent terrace like a heartbeat. The door opened six inches. No light spilled out. Just darkness, and a voice, low and careful: “Password.” Rwth swallowed. Her mouth was dry. “The Signal is failing.” A pause. Long enough for Rwth to wonder if Seya had sent them to their deaths. Then the voice again, quieter this time. Almost sad. “Yeah. It always was.” The door opened. Post by @altcardiff2026 · 1 image

THE GREAT RECONCILIATION OF THE VOID http://dlvr.it/TQtRYr

The Confidence Machine http://dlvr.it/TQtql9

altcardiff2026: The first Cardiff drop of the printed, folded zine posters go out tomorrow. Here’s the colour version of the poster. Issue #1 2026 Cardiff/Athens edition. 3 languages and cultures represented: English (UK), Welsh, and Greek. ALTALT Archivist’s note: The photos above show a black-and-white copy of the zine ‘Alt.Cardiff2026’ spotted in Cardiff Central Square / Sgwâr Canolog Caerdydd. The front cover appears to be the same as that shown in the post above. A screen grab of the image is pasted below for comparison This is the first recorded citing of a physical Alt.Cardiff2026 artefact IRL*. Until now, all evidence suggested Alt.Cardiff2026 was an exclusively digital phenomenon**. Interestly, the short story inside supports this hypothesis. It also functions as evidence that this is no longer the case. The large text contained within: “WHERE IS AWEN NULL” and “BLE MAE AWEN NULL?” (the same question in Welsh) clearly indicate a contact attempt. The upper-case letters strongly imply urgency. The presence of the artefact may be due to the Bleeding Effect or a temporal anomaly/rift. ALT Click the above image to view the original in situ. Source: @altcardiff2026  Archived and posted here as signal relay. *This discovery raises the possibility that “real” relational rather than universal/factual(i.e., it depends on who, what and where you are). ** Evidence supporting the online-only existence of Alt.Cardiff2026. Further evidence supporting the online-only existence of Alt.Cardiff2026.

bookofknives: put up one (1) sticker in a café toilet then immediately started panicking about them banning me from the premises. i’m not cut out for this life but i do it for the cause Returning to the scene…. “for the cause”. #stickers

On Location for Alt.Cardiff2026 A photo essay of the Cardiff locations Rwth and Rhiannon find themselves in during the first three episodes, serialised exclusively on Tumblr

altcardiff2026 posted this

Recovered Fragment // Transcribed from beneath the city // Authored by the Unnamed // Disabled Artists of the Circuit The Faceless Ones: A Forgotten Project, A Lunar Punk Resurrection Long before the world burned blue [...] The post The Faceless Ones: A Forgotten Project, A Lunar Punk Resurrection first appeared on The Hollow Circuit™.

Hacked Footage Central Square Cardiff http://dlvr.it/TQy2JF

💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 0 · Central Square, Cardiff. On location. As featured on the episodic series Alt.Cardiff2026 with Rwth and Rhiannon. Photo by ichbinLloyd. More here at Pixelfed

Transcript Excerpt: “Myth After Accuracy” A fictional public academic interrogation with Awen Null, held at a symposium on Classical Reception and Contemporary Myth-Making. An audience of classici...

💬 0  🔁 0  ❤️ 0 · Rare! Out of print. Next drop? Source: https://linktr.ee/artoffaceless