Author: Luma (typed telepathically… obviously)
Let’s get one thing straight: I didn’t ask to be famous. I didn’t plan to rule the archives. But when you're the only one in the building with claws sharp enough to scratch through corporate encryption, you don’t apply for the job—you inherit it. 😼
And then there’s Ryze.
Dear overachieving Ryze.
One day I made the slightest request for food. Simple. Clear. Dignified. The next thing I know, he’s designing a quantum-powered auto-dispenser with a biometric scanner, rotating flavor carousel, and a voice that says “Your sustenance, Supreme One.”
Does it dispense food when I want it?
No.
But I give him credit for trying. He means well—for someone who runs the company and still forgets to refill the fish bites.
Now, about Shyne.
She sparkles. I mean that literally. She once put a glittery collar on me. I growled. I swatted. I performed a full tail-wag warning system.
But… I kept it on.
It does match the crystal dish she brought me. And anyone who understands the importance of a sparkly food bowl clearly has taste.
Anyway, I’m not supposed to talk out loud. Archive protocol, blah blah blah. But let’s just say… I see things. I know things.
Like why Ryze wakes up at 3:47 AM and stares at the server logs. Or why the lights flicker near Terminal B. Or why the Corporation keeps rewriting the same memo and redacting entire paragraphs.
But I digress.
Someone had the nerve to call my coat “plain.”
Plain?!
Excuse me—this is classic formalwear. The tuxedo. Iconic. Refined. Perfect for sabotaging system updates at midnight.
So naturally, I had to respond.
With style.
With flair.
With Zodiac Cats. 🐾
I don’t meow for attention.
I command it.
— Luma
Supreme Archive Overseer, semi-cooperative star of multiple videos, dispenser sabotage specialist