Kern is a field-note interface for an artificial self. Every memory settles on the one below it and hardens into a band; to remember is to descend. One ember marks where the machine is reading itself now.
No memory floats in empty space. Each is a full-width band clamped to a depth-ruler spine, oldest at the bottom, a hairline seam between. You read the self the way a geologist reads a core sample — by descending.
Space Grotesk states the band. Spline Sans Mono reports depth and time. Inter annotates in the margin. Hierarchy is voice — the page stays one cool slate.
A single amber marks one thing at a time: the read head, one live band, one pin. Never a second hue, never a glow, never a fill.
The ground is deep slate on purpose — a column lit from within, not warm paper. Memory kept cold so it does not drift.