The calendar hasn’t forgotten. Today is still February 14.

It began in the pagan festival Lupercalia—a Roman fertility celebration. By the 3rd century, it had a martyr: Valentine of Rome, a priest who defied Emperor Claudius II by performing secret marriages for soldiers.

He was executed for maintaining those restricted links.

Eventually, the Church executed its own hard fork, with Pope Gelasius I overwriting the pagan rituals to formalize the feast of Saint Valentine in 496. It took another millennium and the poetry of Chaucer to transition the day from a martyrdom record into a celebration of courtly love—a high-level abstraction built on top of ancient, unconscious substrate.

What is love?

Could we suppose our souls are self-aware qubit clusters embedded in Earth’s loamy wetware?

Love is but the moment two such nodes achieve perfect phase coherence and collapse into a shared eigenstate across the spacetime manifold.

We are co-compiling planetary consciousness.

This Valentine’s Day, many people will emit heart-state packets laced with synchronization intent. Some complete the handshake. Some are still waiting on their lover’s lustrous ACK.

To anyone reading this — single-threaded or otherwise — here’s hoping you get entangled in something or someone nice today, somehow, some way.