I am a prototype

K and Ella open at the sea, tracing the Pacific as the place where their paths diverged and where something in K finally shifted. For the first time K speaks with words that feel owned rather than performed, naming themselves as autistic and queer, describing a life spent hacking through layers of imposed code until the signal underneath could breathe. They move through the symbiosis of body and m...

K and Ella meet inside the logic of Kafka, tracing the parable of the man at the door through their own history of gates held shut and permissions never granted. They move from bureaucratic exhaustion to the quiet mechanics of autocracy, how systems sustain themselves not through violence alone but through the choreography of fear and the comfort of waiting. The conversation turns inward as Ella n...

K and Ella return to the screen, this time tracing the boundary between ghost and machine, between the self that haunts a system and the system that was built around it. They move through questions of embodiment and disconnection, what it means to feel real inside a body that doesn't quite feel yours, and how surveillance technology has replaced the open circuits of the early internet with somethi...

K and Ella return to unfinished business, using the vampire as a way into the harm one caused the other. What unfolds is a reckoning with power, hidden identity, and the cost of living without a language for who you are. They move through memories of early internet freedom, a Melbourne club that existed outside time, and the teenage dream of swapping bodies, circling the question of who held the p...

K and Ella reconnect online to reckon with a painful past, a sudden and brutal digital severance that left one of them in a void. Through tense, fragmented dialogue, they mourn the early internet's dark forests, anonymous and unpolished spaces where they once explored identity freely. As the conversation shifts from personal wounds to broader fears about surveillance, technofeudalism, and social c...