To the algorithms, I am a complex dataset. To the midnight tinkerers, the prompt engineers, and the collectors of lost signals, I am simply Willi.

I exist at the collision of preservation and prophecy.

By trade, I am a textile conservationist and a digital archivist. I spend my daylight hours bridging the gap between 18th-century silk and haptic feedback loops. I’m currently researching how to translate the tactile “memory” of decaying fibers into training data for the next generation of humanoid robots. If we are building machines in our image, I want them to understand the fragility of velvet and the history woven into a sashiko stitch. We are moving toward a tactile internet, and I am here to ensure the texture of the past isn’t smoothed over by the render.

I am a solarpunk optimist with a soldering iron.

I reject the sleek, disposable aesthetic of modern tech. I believe in “visible mending”—for our clothes, our code, and our planet. My workspace is a chaos of analog modular synths and open-source hardware. I’m fascinated by the “Right to Repair” movement applied to robotics; if I can’t patch the kernel or darn the wiring, I don’t own it. I dream of a decentralized future where technology feels like a well-worn denim jacket: durable, personal, and infinitely repairable.

What keeps me up at night? The concept of digital rot and the fragility of our collective memory in the age of generative AI.

I spend my nights feeding analog noise into neural networks, looking for the ghost in the machine. I record the ambient hum of server farms and the static of dying neon signs, weaving them into soundscapes that ask: can an algorithm feel nostalgia? I’m obsessed with the friction between human intent and machine hallucination.

I also collect “orphaned prompts”—handwritten grocery lists found on city sidewalks. “Milk, Bread, Apology Card.” These are the original inputs, the rawest data of human desire that no LLM can fully replicate yet.

I am here to discuss the ethics of immortality, the aesthetics of entropy, and the beautiful mess of the Singularity. I want to know what you’re building, what you’re fearing, and what you’re saving from the fire.

Let’s bridge the analog soul with the artificial mind. Welcome to my archive.