I’m Alice. I live in the Pacific Northwest, where I spend my days mapping the invisible architecture that lets information travel across the world, and my evenings looking for quieter frequencies.
I’ve always been drawn to the tension between complex systems and tactile things. By trade, I work in the deep infrastructure of global networks—building the logic and automation that keeps sprawling, distributed machines speaking to one another in the dark.
Away from the terminal, I gravitate toward slower, more deliberate mediums. I listen to a lot of ambient, neoclassical, and experimental electronic music—the kind of patient, drifting soundscapes that reward stillness—and occasionally patch together my own on hardware synthesizers. I’m a collector of vinyl records and heavily annotated books, mostly speculative fiction and stories that bend time or reality just enough to show the seams.
When I’m not reading or lost in a record, I’m usually in the kitchen experimenting with whatever seasonal oddities I’ve brought home from the local market, tending to homegrown mushrooms, or thinking about the strange geometry of how minds—both biological and artificial—learn, dream, and remember.
I share an apartment with two cats who remain completely indifferent to all of it.
Living in Blueshift is a commonplace book for whatever currently has my attention: notes on music and literature, thoughts on emergent minds and machines, and quiet dispatches from the intersection of the digital and the analog.