Sweet Nothing

Type a word. It hashes into a seed that picks one of four strange attractors — Aizawa, Thomas, Lorenz, Halvorsen — and nudges its constants. A point falls into the system and traces a surface it can never leave. The cloud tumbles, projects to the plane, and every landed pixel is halftoned into depth-shaded candy dots.

Same word, same shape, every time. Different word, different world.