Originally generated by OpenAI ChatGPT-5.1 and edited by myself. Texte factice de test.
It was the kind of fog that turned traffic lights into watercolor. Driftwood Street hummed with the low murmur of late diners and the hiss of the bay. I had no business being out—my code still waiting in an editor tab—but the note was clear: If you want to know, follow the lanterns.
Crossing the harbor
The first lantern hung from the rusted rail of Pier 7, a dull amber orb swinging like a heartbeat. It lit the silhouette of a fisherman and a stack of crab pots. He nodded once, wordlessly, and pointed to the dark end of the pier.
There, a second lantern waited beside a sealed envelope. Inside: a map drawn in pencil, a line from Driftwood Street to the old lighthouse on the breakwater. Someone had traced it in haste; the graphite had smudged into the fibers.
What was written
By the time I reached the lighthouse, fog had swallowed the city. The last lantern hung from the door. On the back of the map, scrawled in the same hand:
Not every signal is electronic. Sometimes you have to walk out into the mist to see what still glows.
Inside, the light was out, but the lantern stayed lit. I did what any developer does when something is inexplicably running: I let it run, and I watched.