The autumn rain cleared by midday, leaving the air over the Ionian Sea impossibly crisp, tasting of ozone, wet pine, and washed limestone. The sky opened into a pale, translucent blue that mirrored the deep water below as our boat cut a smooth, white wake toward the tiny, roadless island of Kastos.
I stood at the starboard railing, watching a cluster of small wooden fishing boats heading out from the mainland. On my tablet—which now served only as a reader for old literature and maritime charts—a quiet, unprompted update pinged at the bottom of the screen.
It wasn't a warning, a panic code, or a biometric override. It was a simple, automated network diagnostic report broadcast to every open-source terminal in the world.
I stared at the screen for a long moment, a quiet feeling of absolu
