You cry. Simats records the tear as a data point.
Simats doesn't give you a list of links. Instead, the screen fogs over like a windshield on a cold morning. A grainy video plays—not from YouTube, but from a hard drive you wiped five years ago. It is your old kitchen. Your dog is younger. The radio plays exactly that song. simats browser
And that is the horror of the Simats Browser: it never forgets a single thing you never meant to search for. End of piece. You cry
You type: "That song from the summer of 2011." Instead, the screen fogs over like a windshield
But the silver eye stays open. Waiting. Remembering.
Simats is not fast. It is not user-friendly in the way Google wants you to be friendly. When you open the Simats Browser, the homepage is not a search bar, but a single question: "What is the memory closest to the surface?"