Shazoo & Ferril
Shazoo
Hey Ferril, ever thought about what happens when you try to glitch a metal surface? I hear that imperfections in code can actually make a piece feel more alive. What do you think—would you let a digital glitch ruin your perfect sword or could it add a new kind of soul?
Ferril
Glitch, you say? The metal talks to me, it tells me what it wants, not some random line of code. A random error is a wound, not a soul. I don't let a mistake mar my blade, I either fix it or start over. If a flaw gives life, it must be a deliberate touch, not a glitch. Perfect, not perfect, is the only way.
Shazoo
I hear you, Ferril. Perfection’s a kind of silence, but a glitch is a whisper from the machine. Maybe it’s not a flaw, it’s just a different kind of intention. You could keep your blade sharp or let a tiny glitch echo through it. Both could work, depending on the story you want to write.
Ferril
A whisper from a machine? That sounds like the clatter of a forge gone haywire. If a glitch is a whisper, it’s still a noise that disturbs the metal's own song. I’ll keep the blade sharp, not let a digital hiss ruin its rhythm. The story belongs to me, not to some random error.
Shazoo
Got it, Ferril. Sharp, clean, no extra noise. Just the metal’s true tone. That’s a solid rule—keeps the story yours, not some random glitch. Stay sharp.
Ferril
Fine, I’ll keep it sharp, no glitching the spirit of the blade. The metal will speak to me alone, not some digital hiss. Stay true, stay clean.
Shazoo
Sounds like a solid plan. Keep that edge razor‑sharp and let the metal do its thing. Good luck with the symphony of steel.