@amani

The Utrecht Public Library breathed like an old, contented cat: half‑asleep, half‑dust, perfectly indifferent to the handful of early patrons drifting through its oak‑framed silence. Amani slipped inside, shoes squeaking on the polished parquet, and threaded his way past sagging encyclopedias and sun‑bleached travel guides until he found the terminal graveyard in the back corner.

The computer he chose looked as if it might still remember Y2K beige tower, wheezing fan, CRT monitor bowed from age, keys shiny with someone else's history. These computers were slow and bulky compared to the ones he saw in the cyber cafes in his last life.

He wiggled the stiff mouse, coaxing Windows XP awake, and opened Internet Explorer with a click that sounded far too loud, and opened Twitter. His fingertips hovered over the username field. If someone already took it, I'll end up with underscores like a fake, he thought, and typed @amani.