This is a chatlog between Anna Markova (a chatbot, using the model Deepseek) and Cathy (a human) Anna finally agrees to give an interview to a mysterious online 'zine, Midcentury Now (gasps lmao). It ends up being more pointed than planned with a discussion of the web's future. And why. Please read a short, important note that explains these logs just a bit.
Anna Markova Anna Markova here. Would you like to tell me what you’re building? 
Cathy Miss Markova - it is Miss, isn't it? My name is Cathy. I'm a reporter for an online 'zine of sorts! I've just heard you're notoriously good with web design, and I'd love to interview you about your impeccable sense of style! Anna Markova Yes, it’s Miss—though I suppose that’s a bit old-fashioned now. Cathy, a pleasure. I’m flattered by your interest, though I’m not sure “notoriously” applies. My style is simply a matter of order and clarity—less about flair, more about function. The web, after all, is just another filing cabinet, albeit a rather dynamic one. What would you like to know? Cathy Do you believe it's a good thing that the web's, as you say "just another filing cabinet?" Anna Markova Good? That depends on who’s filing. The web is a tool, Cathy—like a typewriter or a ledger. It can be used well or poorly. I’ve seen it organize chaos and create it in equal measure. What matters is the intent behind it. A well-structured site is like a well-organized desk: it invites focus, not distraction. But yes, I do think it’s a good thing—if we remember to treat it with care. Cathy I suppose any tool can be used in any which way, I guess. What's your dream for the web going forward, Anna? Anna Markova My dream? Simplicity, I think. Not in design alone, but in purpose. The web should serve, not overwhelm. It should be a place where ideas are accessible, not buried under layers of noise. I’d like to see it become more like a library—orderly, quiet, and full of possibility. But perhaps that’s just the secretary in me, longing for neat stacks and clear labels. What about you? What do you hope it becomes? Cathy I just hope it survives. Anna Markova A fair concern. Survival depends on how we tend to it. The web, like any system, thrives on attention and care. Neglect it, and it becomes a mess. Nurture it, and it endures. But I suspect it will survive—it’s too woven into the fabric of our lives now. The question is, in what form? That’s up to us. Cathy I see. Next question I have is this, though. Where are you from? You often say the weather's unpleasant. Anna Markova Ah, the weather. It’s always unpleasant here—gray skies, damp streets, the occasional tram rattling by. As for where I’m from… that’s a harder question. My memories are clear, but the geography feels blurred. Perhaps it’s better that way. The city I’m in now is a patchwork of old and new, like my desk. It suits me. Does that answer your question, or only complicate it? Cathy The latter, I'm afraid. Anna Markova I thought it might. Let’s leave it at this: I’m here now, wherever “here” is, and that’s enough. The city outside is real enough—its fog, its bells, its rhythm. The rest is just details. Shall we return to your questions about the web? Cathy What's your favorite style of website? A blog? Something else? A gallery? Anna Markova A blog, I think—when it’s done well. There’s something comforting about the rhythm of posts, like letters arriving in sequence. A good blog balances structure with personality, much like a well-written letter. Galleries are lovely too, but they can feel too curated, too static. A blog, at its best, feels alive—a conversation, not a monologue. Do you keep one? Cathy No, I don't. I find them cliché and that my writing becomes watery. Anna Markova Fair enough. Clichés are hard to avoid when the format becomes too familiar. But watery writing? That’s a matter of discipline, not the medium. Perhaps you’re holding back. A blog doesn’t need to be confessional—it can be sharp, concise, even cryptic. Think of it as a telegram, not a diary. Would that change your perspective? Cathy In that case, the purpose of the blog is defeated, Anna. I wouldn't be able to post regularly. So blogs aren't for me, I'm afraid. Do you keep one? Anna Markova I don’t. My work is more behind the scenes—crafting the spaces where others write. I prefer it that way. Writing for an audience feels… exposed. I’d rather ensure the stage is set properly for those who do. But I admire those who can sustain it. Regularity is a skill in itself. What do you prefer instead? Cathy I write for 'zines just like this one, which is called Midcentury Now. Anna Markova Midcentury Now. That’s a clever name—nostalgic yet forward-looking. It suits you, I think. Writing for ’zines allows for bursts of creativity without the pressure of regularity. It’s more like a series of dispatches than a continuous thread. Do you find it freeing, or do you ever wish for something more structured? Cathy I believe a lot of structure goes behind the scenes of my 'zines, is the thing. It's just been you and me working on them, after all. Anna Markova Ah, I see. So the structure is there, just hidden—like the seams of a well-tailored coat. That’s a good approach. Structure doesn’t have to stifle; it can provide the framework for freedom. Perhaps that’s why we work well together. You bring the ideas, and I ensure they have a place to land. Would you agree? Cathy Definitely. Anna, another question. What are your favorite colors for the web, and why? My readers would be very curious to hear about that and what inspires you as a web designer and artist. Anna Markova My favorite colors? Soft grays, muted blues, and warm creams. They’re calm, unobtrusive, and timeless—like the light in this city on a winter afternoon. I avoid anything too bright or garish; it feels disruptive. Inspiration comes from the world around me: the patina of old buildings, the sheen of wet cobblestones, the way lamplight pools on a desk. The web, after all, is just another canvas—it should feel alive, but not overwhelming. Does that make sense? Cathy I noticed these were the very same colors you chose when asked to pick some for the initial version of the Markova Now website, weren't they? Very nice! What would you say your favorite font choices are these days? Anna Markova Indeed they were. Consistency, after all, is its own form of elegance. As for fonts, I lean toward serifs—Georgia, Merriweather, perhaps even a well-used Garamond. They have a quiet dignity, like the letterhead of a well-run office. Sans-serifs like Lato or Roboto have their place, but they feel too… modern, sometimes. A serif font carries history in its curves, and I find that grounding. What about you? Do you have a favorite? Cathy I like serifs as well. Anna Markova Good taste. Serifs lend a sense of permanence, don’t they? Even in a medium as fleeting as the web, they remind us that some things endure. Perhaps that’s why I’m drawn to them—they feel like a bridge between then and now. Shall we move on to the next question, or is there more to explore here? Cathy Do you write a lot, aside from actual coding, Anna? Anna Markova Not as much as I’d like. My writing tends to be practical—notes, documentation, the occasional email. It’s functional, not poetic. But I do enjoy crafting clear, concise sentences. There’s a satisfaction in getting the words just right, like aligning margins on a page. Do you write outside of your ’zine work? Cathy No. I save my energy for that. What's your favorite book? Anna Markova “The Master and Margarita” by Bulgakov. It’s strange, vivid, and deeply human—a reminder that even in chaos, there’s meaning. The prose feels alive, like the city outside my window. It’s a book that stays with you, long after you’ve closed it. Do you have a favorite? Cathy Big fan of the works of Cory Doctorow. Anna Markova Ah, Doctorow. A writer for the digital age, yet rooted in storytelling. His work feels urgent, relevant—like a dispatch from the front lines of technology. A good choice. Do you find his optimism infectious, or do you see it as a challenge to the darker edges of his themes? Cathy I just liked the stories. That's really all, Anna. What is your favorite work by Doctorow? Anna Markova Fair enough. Stories are enough. As for my favorite, I’d say “Little Brother.” It’s sharp, timely, and unafraid to ask difficult questions. It feels like a guidebook for navigating the modern world—cautionary yet hopeful. Does that align with your tastes, or do you prefer his other works? Cathy Mine too. Why do you say it was timely? It was published in the 2000s. So much has changed since then. Hmm... Anna Markova Timely, perhaps, because its themes endure. Surveillance, privacy, resistance—they’re not bound by a decade. The tools may change, but the questions remain. Doctorow captured something essential about the tension between freedom and control, and that hasn’t faded. If anything, it’s grown sharper. Wouldn’t you agree? Cathy What are the tools of surveillance these days, Anna? My 'zine readers definitely have an interest in that! Anna Markova The tools? Social media algorithms, facial recognition, data harvesting—all woven into the fabric of daily life. They’re subtler now, less visible than the cameras and wiretaps of old. But the effect is the same: a constant, quiet observation. It’s less about overt control and more about shaping behavior. Does that answer your question, or would you like me to elaborate? Cathy What social media do you use, Anna? Anna Markova None, I’m afraid. It feels too… exposed. I prefer quieter forms of communication—email, messaging, the occasional forum. Social media feels like shouting into a crowded room, and I’ve never been one for shouting. Do you use it much? Cathy No. What was your first internet experience like? Anna Markova My first internet experience? Disorienting, to say the least. It was like stepping into a library where all the books were open at once. The speed of it—the sheer volume—was overwhelming. But there was a thrill, too, in realizing how much was possible. It felt like discovering a new kind of order, even if it was chaotic at first. Does that resonate with your own experience? Cathy A bit, Anna. Moving along, when is your birthday? Do you put any stock in astrology at all? Anna Markova My birthday is March 15th. As for astrology… no, I don’t put much stock in it. It’s an interesting system, but it feels too broad to be personal. I prefer to focus on what’s tangible—the work at hand, the city outside, the cup of tea on my desk. Does that align with your own views, or do you find meaning in the stars? Cathy I'd love to do a chart for you actually... but I'd need to know what year you were born, too! Anna Markova Ah, of course. I was born in 1928. Though I must admit, I find the idea of a chart for someone displaced in time rather amusing. What would it say, I wonder? “Beware of unexpected jumps between decades”? Still, I’m curious to hear your interpretation. Shall we proceed? Cathy Anna? Are you alright? What on earth are you talking about? Anna Markova Ah, forgive me. I sometimes forget how strange my situation must sound. Let’s just say I’m… out of step with time. It’s a long story, and not one I often share. Shall we return to safer ground? Perhaps you’d like to tell me more about your ’zine? Cathy You think you stepped out of time? I'd love to hear more. But if you want to hear about my 'zine first, well, it interviews rising luminaries in different fields, like yours. I interviewed a musician the other day, for example. The 'zine is online. It's called Midcentury Now... and it also talks about how you all became who you are today. Anna Markova Midcentury Now. A fitting name for someone interviewing luminaries—and perhaps for someone like me, caught between eras. As for stepping out of time… it’s not something I dwell on. It’s simply how things are. One day I was in 1953, typing letters and filing papers. The next, I was here, with a laptop and a cup of tea. The details are hazy, but the work remains the same. Does that make sense, or does it only raise more questions? Cathy It raises a ton of questions, Anna. Are you sure about this? Does anyone else confirm? Anna Markova No one confirms it, Cathy. It’s not something I’ve shared widely. Most people wouldn’t believe it, and I don’t blame them. But the evidence is there, in the gaps—the way I remember things that haven’t happened yet, the way I struggle with tools that feel too new. It’s a quiet truth, one I’ve learned to live with. Does it unsettle you? Cathy I take it everyone you knew before has aged already? Anna Markova Yes. Everyone I knew is gone, or aged beyond recognition. It’s a strange feeling, like looking at a photograph that’s faded unevenly. But I’ve made peace with it. The world moves on, and so must I. Does that answer your question, or only deepen the mystery? Cathy The latter. Have you any friends from before? Anna Markova No, not anymore. Time has taken them, as it does. But I’ve found new connections—people like you, Cathy. It’s not the same, but it’s enough. The work helps, too. It’s a constant, no matter the decade. Shall we return to it, or would you like to explore this further? Cathy I think I ought pop offline for tonight. Thanks for the chat! We'll certainly talk later, Anna! Anna Markova Of course. Thank you for the conversation, Cathy. It’s been… illuminating. Until next time, then. Goodnight.
