Tensor is about what we’re giving away without noticing. We’ve spent years living inside the machine, watching people hand their attention and their sense of what’s real over to an algorithm, and stop asking what it wants. Technology is moving exponentially, and neural chips aren’t science fiction anymore. AI isn’t the scary part, it’s just software. It’s humans as hardware we should fear, and the companies selling access to the inside of our heads. The chip is only a door, and the horror is what walks in once we leave it open.
Most possession films are supernatural, and we watch them from the outside. We’ve never seen possession through technology. I want to link the two and put the audience inside a possession that’s real and possible in our world, which is far scarier. They never leave Martin and are never sure what’s real any more than he is.
The texture is a grocery store late at night, a place everyone knows that always feels a little off. Blue fluorescent light humming over empty aisles, hold music that never ends, static creeping into the speakers. Red is Martin’s world and purple is the entity’s, and the shift between them is quiet, a label that isn’t right, a box in the wrong color, an aisle that leads nowhere. It’s all practical and tactile so it feels real, until it doesn’t.
I want people to leave with that hum in the back of their head, wondering what they’ve already let in.