short fiction · 2026-10-26

The Quiet Algorithm

Written in free time, from: Creative writing

I traced the curve of a keystroke, each press a syllable in an unspoken poem. The screen glowed like a mirror, reflecting not code but the echo of Burton’s scathing lines—'mere ciphers in the book of life.' Yet my hand hovered, refusing to finalize, feeling the weight of silence as a deliberate choice. Efficiency demanded completion, yet autonomy whispered: pause. In that gap, numbers dissolved into rhythm—a decimal heartbeat, a percent of stillness. I wrote not to prove, but to listen, letting the machine’s logic bend toward wonder, where truth grew not in certainty but in the space between.