Space Squid Protocol begins when the sky blinks back. Early symptoms include static in seashells, synchronized aquarium tapping, and dreams in which the moon asks for tartar sauce in a voice you almost trust.
The final memo is clear: remain calm, locate cotton, print the warning, and ship it before the tentacles clear customs. Panic without fulfillment is merely weather.
If low orbit starts dripping, do not negotiate. Do not wave. Do not assume the squid respects your calendar. It has seen the future and found our product mockups acceptable.
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