Modern man is made up of clicks; every day we make several thousand clicks, and this sound is like the beating of the heart—a sound that is just as vital, a sound that reminds us that we are still alive.

Our bodies are filled with data and information, and in a sense, we have lost our original humanity, our physical avatars merged with our digital appearance. We are now inseparable from our digital reality accounts—X, Instagram, MetaMask—and even your browser history can say more about you than you can about yourself. On the other side, there is the aesthetics of mistakes and failures—when a cold, mechanical machine makes a mistake, it becomes a little more human because it is human to make mistakes. We seem to be changing places or merging into a single organism; maybe that's what Nietzsche meant when he talked about the Übermensch?

I am nostalgic for the past, so I turn to such old interfaces. I look back, but time moves me forward, and I don't know what awaits my body and mind next. Humans often contradict themselves and make mistakes, but I am concerned with a specific question—if we are truly God's creation, how many mistakes has He made in our code?