Arthur leaned back, the blue LED glow reflecting in his glasses. Modern streaming was easier, sure. But you couldn’t fix a cloud with a pair of tweezers and a bit of patience.

Arthur sighed, adjusting his jeweler’s loupe. The machine was a mechanical fortress. Inside, 300 silver platters held the soundtrack to his entire marriage—everything from the Miles Davis records they’d played at dinner to the scratched-up Spice Girls disc his daughter had obsessed over in '97.

“I’ve got the replacement,” Arthur whispered. He’d ordered it from a guy in Ohio who still used a Geocities-style website.