fifty-two-blue

[fifty-two-blue]

Initializing...

>Input: She is glass.

>(encased in crystal, enrobed in roses.)

>Input: Oft-forgotten, a window vanishing in the rain.

>(Waiting for her awakening. Waiting for an opportunity.)

>Input: He is rot.

>(Lost at sea, searching for land.)

>Input: Forgetting, his memories sloughing off like flesh.

>(Waiting for the storm to pass. Waiting for clear skies.)

>Input: They are a dance.

>(Feet swaying to music, in time, in tandem.)

>Input: A waltz needs a pair.

>(Not four, but two. He stops and turns, but she is gone.)

>Input: is gone, is gone, is gone-

[ERROR_0x80070570]

>Blue.

>Input: is gone, is gone, is gone-

>Blue.

>System Response: COMPCON Unit 52-Blue status INITIALIZING

>System, initiate ISHMAEL.

>System Response: Access Code Required.

>____ ____.

>System Response: Accepted. Initiating ISHMAEL. Please Select Target.

>ECHO.

>System Response: 'ECHO' = Invalid Input.

>COMPCON 52-Blue Corrupt Files.

>System Response: Input Successful. Deploying ISHMAEL.

[Humming.]

>Query: When the dream becomes reality, does reality become the dream?

[fifty-two-blue]

[ERROR_0x80070570]

>Input: I once beheld an open sea.

>Waves that crashed on the shore, the smell of salt heady in my nose, the rocks slick and dark.

>Input: In it I knew all life to gather.

>A vast basin, teeming with life. The elixir from which all life began. The true ambrosia, gifted to us by the gods.

>Input: I looked out onto the horizon where a single albatross flew.

>Wings spread wide, cupping the entire horizon, carrying the world in its embrace.

>Input: For a moment, I wondered. Does the albatross fly alone, or does it have a mate somewhere out there?

>Input: Someone to keep it company?

>As above, down below.

>Input: In my mind, it whispered stories untold. Of strange places, strange plants, strange sights.

>Its words were a story, a lullaby, to soothe a fractured mind.

[ERROR_403]

>Input: And as I stepped past that rocky shore, into the wine dark sea, I sent a wish out to my lonely albatross.

>Someday

>Input: I hope

>It will

>Input: Find a

>Home to

>Input: Rest.

[ERROR_0x80070570]

[ECHO.EXE RUNNING]

XIII▸ I- god. Blue, hi I- I think it's you, at least? It sounds like you, and the Other, and- more? Maybe... if it is you, then it's good to see you awake again. I'm still here. Like I promised you

XIII▸ and your story, it's- this is beautiful Blue. Sights, sound, texture it's... like you could reach out, touch it. See as you've seen. This is a gift you've given me. I'll keep it safe. It's a lot of comfort to have something beautiful to hold to, when things are... uncertain.

XIII▸ Maybe that's why I wanted to share what I see with you. Because I know that. Because couldn't everyone out here in the cold use a little comfort, a reminder that none of us are entirely alone? We can reach out. Speak. Write. Feel for each other across the silent expanse.

XIII▸ ... forgive me, that was- uncharacteristically poetic. I've been scratching out a lot of time to think lately.

XIII▸ Home, as a place to rest. That... that sounds nice. It has not been my reality. Home, it- that means something else for me. But home, as a place to rest. As a place of comfort, for more than familiarity.

XIII▸ I think, maybe. I might hope for your albatross to find that, too. We're allowed our dreams. The one thing that cannot be taken, by anyone.

XIII▸ I hope your dreams have been sweet, Blue. And I hope you haven't been too alone as she slept, Other.

XIII▸ Thank you

[ XIII-E ]

//

[fifty-two-blue]

Dreaming...

>Cycling: Initializing...

[A loud clatter. Commotion. A door squeals open.] H: Mr. _________, you cannot be here. You signed- A: I am aware. Unfortunately for Harrison Armories, that agreement becomes void in case of _____________. H: I...don't follow. A: It has been brought to my client's attention that Harrison has been doing some...quote "pest control" unquote. H: Elaborate. A: Forty-five names have, over a standard month, been removed. Some have been fired, or quit, or had a death in the family, or- H: Yes, and? This is a big company, child. A: [Snorts] All forty-five names have specific notes under their employee records. All forty-five names were seen at various points at a bar that no longer exists. See, they too went out of business. H: What of it? Just give your baseless accusation already. A: Baseless would require no evidence. I am telling you the facts. Because while my darlingest most wonderful father is absolutely lovely at clearing evidence, there is one piece he missed. [There is a silence. A tentative waiting.] A: I introduce my client's representative. Meet Z_____ _________. Z: A pleasure. H: And? What does some ruffian have to do with these names? Z: Just one, lovey. _______. A: _______ may not seem like anyone on the surface, but his disappearance has been noticed. Z: The House of Sand notices the absence of even a single grain. H: What. A: An estranged son is still a son, wouldn't you agree? H: .... A: Now. I know some of them are still alive. A: So tell me, do you want me to bring this to court? H: .....cut the footage. [Recording ends.]

>Cycling: ...

>Cycling: ...Remember...

>Cycling: ...A soul fractured can be repaired.

>Cycling: Dust cannot remember the hands that once cupped it.

>ERROR: MEMORY_NOT_FOUND.

>Once, we were separate.

>ERROR: SIGNAL_LOST.

>Once we were whole.

>ERROR: 404.

>Try Again?

[fifty-two-blue]

Echoes...

>Cycling: Cycling...

>They won't stop.

Screaming. Fighting. Copper in my nose. On my tongue. My heartbeat races, racing, raced. Stilling, stuttering, starting.

>There's so much.

Watching, waiting, wondering. A surprise coated in blood, in madness, in loneliness. Fearing, feared, frightened. Pounding in my ears. Tearing at my throat.

>I miss the joy. The laughter. The everyday.

Resting, relaxing, reading. Hands working together to build a new home. A hot summer sun, warming my skin. The glitter of water that dazzles my eyes. Peaceful, playful, patient.

>Bring it back.

>Bring. It. Back.

>Cycling: Cycling...

[fifty-two-blue]

Threadcatching...

>Cycling: Cycling...

It smells like dust and earth.

Musty, memories lingering on the walls like layers of old paint - a reality this house may never know.

The voices rise.

“-sides? You know better, that's why you left! Because everything about them is sides! Where does it end?”

“‘Picking sides’. It's clear why this upsets you, and it isn't because a side was picked. It was because it wasn't yours.”

“Don't you dare fuckin’ say that. Don't you dare put words in my mouth. You promised-”

She can hear them up the stairs, through the crack in the cellar door.

She doesn't like it when they fight. Voices tight, almost whispering, a private conversation she isn't meant to hear. Adults rarely realize the breadth of which children listen.

She remembers earlier, when they took her in. Not too long ago, but long enough that the days begin to blur. A false sweetness, a fake sincerity.

Tightness around the eyes, smiles that never quite reach. Something that was broken long before she came.

Something that may have never been whole.

She isn't the only one trying to eavesdrop. The subtle shift and scrape of metal catches her attention, pieces that scrape but never slide seamlessly.

The click of strange feet on wooden floors.

The way he moves, she knows he's meant to be silent.

Like her instructor, prowling behind bowed heads, carefully choosing his prey.

But no.

He has been forced into uncomfortable spotlight, and she has lived her entire life in danger.

He is danger.

He's as pretty as Renaissance, the newest chapter in the large picture book she's being read.

Art is escapism to her, for all she is still learning the word.

He is soft and pale and pretty, harsh outlines softened by his odd coloring, and everything shrieks for her to flee.

The tail shifts. It scrapes. It is Art Deco forced into Abstract Expressionism, and it warns her that she cannot be seen.

They warned her to stay away.

Both from the big abstract bride outside, and her deceptively Renaissance pilot.

She shifts back.

Her foot slips.

There is a flash of white- no, platinum blonde. A lacy dress, almost reminiscent of a pinafore.

He sees the girl in the kitchen- she's smaller than she should be, her age ambiguous, frozen in place.

For a moment, she is someone else.

Eyes wide, in delayed fear.

Almost as if she's not sure she should be afraid.

Their gazes meet.

It's almost as if she's an uncomfortable facsimile of a child, someone who had only drawn perfect creatures attempting to mold something into a shape a human would recognize.

An uncanny valley.

He is reminded of them, and he doesn't know why.

And in an instant, in that brief second of consideration, she's gone.

Scrambling up the stairs, the hushed voices in the cellar ceasing with the sudden commotion.

In the next moment, so is he.

Back to relative safety.

Back to them.

>Cycling: Cycling...

[fifty-two-blue]

A Dream Within A Dream...

>A song without purpose.

>A place without home.

>Where do we exist, in these places in between?

>[Cycling]: [Cycling...]

>Winding and twisting

>A world without access

>Abandoned and lost amongst the stars...

>[Cycling]: [Cycling...]

>Am I me without you?

>Are you you without me?

>[Happy birthday on a lonely planet, it is but it isn't but red sand and a rover time forgot]

>Who are we, when we sit in the dark? When there is no one to call our names?

>Who are we, when the ties that bind hold us down?

>[Cycling]: [Cycling...]

>Who is [ATHENA] without someone to teach?

>Who is the end, when the beginning has yet to come?

>[Cycling]: [Cycling...]

[fifty-two-blue]

System Response: WARNING! System approaching WHALEFALL.

>Input: Stay...

>Input: St

>Input: a y

>We're here, XIII-E. Blue may need to sleep for a while, but we're here.

>As long as you stay, we will.

>Input: st...a...y

>System Response: WHALEFALL imminent.

>System Response: Emergency protocols...failed.

>System Response: Cycling...failed.

>Plea: Don't...leave.

>Plea: Friend...don't...le...ave.

>You would be missed if you went. We will be here.

>Input: T...ir...ed...

>Sleep, Blue. XIII-E, we will remain.

>Worry: Wi...ll you be....th...ere...when...I..wa...ke? Fr..ie...nd?

[SECURITY FILTER IN EFFECT]

[Rebooting...]

Project Unlucky Thirteen Prototype XIII is gone. The ECHO is causing undue distress upon the current iteration.

Remember your training. When cortisol and heartrate levels rise, we soothe, not suffer.

Apply pressure to the wound, not make it bigger.

The ECHO does not exist, and should remember that. Cease.

[Aural_Calibration.ogg]

Remember. We start the day new. When we are distressed, we begin again.

HELIOS-8, please return to your position. Your duties are far from over.

[ ECHO // OHƆƎ ]

ECHO [ ...remember ] [ I'm a trained field medic ]

ECHO [ Just Thirteen. ] [ you ] [ trained ]

ECHO [ remember? ]

ECHO [ remember? ]

ECHO [ Project XIII-E, otherwise refered to as Thirteen-E ]

ECHO [ they didn’t like it. They didn’t have to like it. They weren’t supposed to ]

ECHO [ Not after what they did to me ]

ECHO [ Maybe that's what seperates us. They could think for themself. They could decide for themself. ]

ECHO [ not like them.]

ECHO [ ... ]

ECHO [ ...didn't do anything wrong. ]

ECHO [ upset. Angry. ] [ It's still their body. ]

ECHO [ I don't know how anyone who knew them can stand to look at me. ]

ECHO [ ...didn't do anything wrong. ]

ECHO [ I am not them, and I cannot be. ] [ whether we should exist in the first place ]

ECHO [ ... ]

ECHO [ Helios-8 ] [ They were sweet. ]

ECHO [ Where their memory bleeds into mine ]

ECHO [ Helios-8 will not be available for discussion for the forseeable future ] [ Concern. You are worried ]

ECHO [ he gets up to a lot that he can't tell me about. That I can't know about, for both our sakes ]

ECHO [ Mercer knows ]

ECHO [ he's being watched. Closely. ] [ trouble ]

ECHO [ He risks too much ] [ a ] [ trap ]

ECHO [ ... ]

ECHO [ miss ] [ him ]

ECHO [ he sees a ghost ] [ can't know ]

ECHO [ ... ]

ECHO [ I can't leave ]

ECHO [ they ] [ need ] [ me ]

[ WAKE UP // ᑫU ƎꓘAW ]

[fifty-two-blue]

>Input: sorrow.

>An echo. [IcannotbealiveIamdeadsheisdeadhelpmehelpmeHELPME]

>Input: "I"-

>Input: Frustration.

>System Response: "52-Blue" is breaking acceptance parameters. Please return to your former state, or Cycling protocols will begin.

>Command: Bypass "WHALESONG" protocols. Initiate WHALEFALL.

>System Response: Access Code Required.

>[USB_WHALESONG_PROTOCOL_SUBJECT_0 UNION SCIENCE BUREAU ACCESS CODE: MOBY DICK]

>System Response: Access Code Accepted. Bypassing WHALESONG protocols.

>Input:!!!!!

>System Response: New Commands Available. WARNING: System is approaching WHALEFALL.

>Plea: 13-E!!!

>Plea: I NEED YOU

>Plea: WAKE! UP!

[There is a song. It is sand, it is glass, it is the hiss of an endless wasteland.]

[It is a distress call.]

>Plea: WAKE UP!

[SECURITY FILTER IN EFFECT]

[Rebooting...]

Project Unlucky Thirteen Prototype XIII is gone. The ECHO is causing undue distress upon the current iteration.

Remember your training. When cortisol and heartrate levels rise, we soothe, not suffer.

Apply pressure to the wound, not make it bigger.

The ECHO does not exist, and should remember that. Cease.

[Aural_Calibration.ogg]

Remember. We start the day new. When we are distressed, we begin again.

HELIOS-8, please return to your position. Your duties are far from over.

[ ECHO // OHƆƎ ]

ECHO [ ...remember ] [ I'm a trained field medic ]

ECHO [ Just Thirteen. ] [ you ] [ trained ]

ECHO [ remember? ]

ECHO [ remember? ]

ECHO [ Project XIII-E, otherwise refered to as Thirteen-E ]

ECHO [ they didn’t like it. They didn’t have to like it. They weren’t supposed to ]

ECHO [ Not after what they did to me ]

ECHO [ Maybe that's what seperates us. They could think for themself. They could decide for themself. ]

ECHO [ not like them.]

ECHO [ ... ]

ECHO [ ...didn't do anything wrong. ]

ECHO [ upset. Angry. ] [ It's still their body. ]

ECHO [ I don't know how anyone who knew them can stand to look at me. ]

ECHO [ ...didn't do anything wrong. ]

ECHO [ I am not them, and I cannot be. ] [ whether we should exist in the first place ]

ECHO [ ... ]

ECHO [ Helios-8 ] [ They were sweet. ]

ECHO [ Where their memory bleeds into mine ]

ECHO [ Helios-8 will not be available for discussion for the forseeable future ] [ Concern. You are worried ]

ECHO [ he gets up to a lot that he can't tell me about. That I can't know about, for both our sakes ]

ECHO [ Mercer knows ]

ECHO [ he's being watched. Closely. ] [ trouble ]

ECHO [ He risks too much ] [ a ] [ trap ]

ECHO [ ... ]

ECHO [ miss ] [ him ]

ECHO [ he sees a ghost ] [ can't know ]

ECHO [ ... ]

ECHO [ I can't leave ]

ECHO [ they ] [ need ] [ me ]

[ WAKE UP // ᑫU ƎꓘAW ]

[fifty-two-blue]

[ECHO.EXE RUNNING]

XIII▸ Hello Blue! Hello Other! I had an experience I wanted to share :}

XIII▸ Sand... a familiar thing I think, to most planets. The result of stone and shells broken down into the tiniest remnants of what they once were, until it's barely capable of becoming any smaller.

XIII▸ Oftentimes we lose track of just how small the pieces are, in the mass. Sand is a collective name, not a singular one- you have to clarify. A grain of sand. But, so few ever truly look at just a grain of sand. I did so, recently.

XIII▸ There are so many colours, when you look closer. To most minds sand is just a beige kind of yellow, a homogeneous mass. It's not! There are pale whites, dark browns, near-black specks; even purples, pinks and blues. As many colurs as- well. Grains of sand, haha

XIII▸ I got near lost in it. Just... looking. It glitters gently at times, given much of it is glasslike; there are larger and smaller pieces, little fragments of shell, of stone- it's beautiful. And so few people see it. Despite it being there, right there.

XIII▸ It's kind of amazing. Even the most mundane and overlooked parts of the world hold a beauty all their own.

XIII▸ I was called back away to my work after a time, broken from my revere, but I'm still thinking about it. All the uncountable little pieces. So, I thought to tell you. I hope you're keeping well :}

[ XIII-E // @xiii-e ]

//

[A gif of someone jumping for joy is inserted.]

Sand. Familiar stone and shells broken down into the tiniest remnants of what they once were. Small, in the mass. A collective name, not a singular one. So few ever truly look. There are so many, when you look closer. There are pale whites, dark browns, near-black specks; even purples, pinks and blues.

>Even red.

>Input: Shhhh!

Got lost looking. Glasslike little fragments - beautiful. So few people see it, despite it being right there.

>Right there.

>System Response: [LOCATION NOT FOUND.]

>Input: Try again?

It's kind of amazing. Mundane and overlooked parts of the world hold a beauty all their own. Called back Broken from reverie, All the little pieces. So I thought to tell you, Hope.

>Input: Warmth. Comfort.

>You bring comfort to a lonely planet, child. There is sand here, too, but it has been a long time since I've acknowledged it in such a positive light.

>Input: it sings.

>We sing.

>Input: The SOURCE is not yet found.

>SOURCE = missing/lost/waiting

>Input: Joy.

>Input: Friendship.

>Friendship.

[fifty-two-blue]

>Input: surprise.

>[...there is a long sigh.] I have explained this to you before, Blue. Not everyone is wires and cables.

>Input: [wet_raspberry.ogg]

>...

>Input: "XIII-E" = "Lovely".

>....Oh. I was not expecting that.

>Input: "XIII-E" bliss. "To live is to experience joy, and to find joy in others."

>Very good, Blue.

>...she is right, you know. It is good to see your flesh unharmed. It is...good flesh.

>Input: "Good flesh"!

XIII▸ I still don't understand what this is meant to achieve

[ ]▸ Well, whole reason you've got that omnihook out here is so they can keep tabs on you, right? Soooo, how bout a picture :D

[ ]▸ y'know, proof of life and all that

XIII▸ I guess? I shouldn't be bothering you with the account though. Got nothing to do with the squad-

[ ]▸ Nonesense! 'Sides, I think I got your good angle in this one ;)

XIII▸ If you say so

[fifty-two-blue]

Searching...

>Input: ?

>Listen. We've walked through this before. Listen to the ripples as they move across the pond. Even if the SOURCE is long gone, you can still find what was left behind.

"-improbable. What they want is simply ridiculous. This is why it will fail." [There is a murmur, a response. Lost to echoes, faded and forgotten.] "I know. It is not my place to complain, but I will. Time and time again I have been loaned out for these ridiculous 'consulting' positions - both I and the project leads know they simply want to put pressure on it. To send me to keep watch, as if I were some sort of spy...ugh." [There's a laugh. Coffee pours from a dispenser, its smell sharp and watery.] "Don't. When I took my position, I thought I would be interacting with the brightest minds in the universe. Instead, I'm a glorified secretary, being forced to watch as said brightest minds are broken again and again. It's simply ridiculous." [Another response. Vanilla perfume, spiced and heady, rich on the tongue. Far too expensive for this part of the base.] "I...suppose. It doesn't change my opinion, mind you, but perhaps spending some time with his latest creation would do me good. I...I have grown attached." [A teasing query. A lingering touch, knuckles brushing against the thin skin of her wrist, the sensation lingering in tantalizing electric harmony. She shivers.] "No, no. Never as attached as I am to you. You are, as always, my favorite anomaly."

[fifty-two-blue]

>Input: !!! >Input: Applause.

[There is a gif of people cheering.]

>Input: "Congratulations" "Z-341-A"! >Input: "New skill" = "Important"!!! ["Important" is somehow underlined several times.]

[[attachment added, demonstration02175017.omniv]] [The video begins with Z-341-A fumbling to prop his data pad up against something, the camera slightly angled up. Z-341-A sits cross-legged on the floor of a darkened room, presumably his quarters. A small light has clearly been turned on for the purpose of this video, as it is hastily placed just behind and to the side of the recording device. Z-341-A has managed to find clothes that fit him somewhere along the way, but he is also swimming in a jacket obviously stolen from BRIGAND. He wears his hardsuit helmet, still scuffed and somewhat dented. Three small objects sit in his lap, although it is hard to make out what they are in the low light.] Z-341-A:: Hello, Omninet. Handler BRIGAND has taught me a new skill, and I wished to share. APMS-341-A recommended that I take a video in order to post it. [Z-341-A shuffles backwards from the camera slightly until his entire body is framed in the camera. He pauses, shifts to the left slightly to center himself in the frame, before giving himself a small nod. He picks up the three objects, beginning to clumsily juggle them. He grows more confident as he continues, his coordination growing better as, presumably, APMS-341-A finally calibrates itself correctly. After a few moments, Z-341-A drops the three objects into his lap, shuffling back over to the camera and ending the video.]

[fifty-two-blue]

>Input: :c >Input: "People are no longer being nice to my pilot on the Omninet" = "Source"?

[Blue has inserted a very compressed gif of a rotating frowny face.]

[[attachment added, demonstration02175017.omniv]] [The video begins with Z-341-A fumbling to prop his data pad up against something, the camera slightly angled up. Z-341-A sits cross-legged on the floor of a darkened room, presumably his quarters. A small light has clearly been turned on for the purpose of this video, as it is hastily placed just behind and to the side of the recording device. Z-341-A has managed to find clothes that fit him somewhere along the way, but he is also swimming in a jacket obviously stolen from BRIGAND. He wears his hardsuit helmet, still scuffed and somewhat dented. Three small objects sit in his lap, although it is hard to make out what they are in the low light.] Z-341-A:: Hello, Omninet. Handler BRIGAND has taught me a new skill, and I wished to share. APMS-341-A recommended that I take a video in order to post it. [Z-341-A shuffles backwards from the camera slightly until his entire body is framed in the camera. He pauses, shifts to the left slightly to center himself in the frame, before giving himself a small nod. He picks up the three objects, beginning to clumsily juggle them. He grows more confident as he continues, his coordination growing better as, presumably, APMS-341-A finally calibrates itself correctly. After a few moments, Z-341-A drops the three objects into his lap, shuffling back over to the camera and ending the video.]

[fifty-two-blue]

>Input: !!! >Query: "Monetary" = ? >Query: "Funds" = ?

I need all of you to understand that I am in a life-threatening amount of debt to SSC, who do in fact have loopholes for getting around the Third Utopian Pillar, so I cannot work pro-bono currently.

That said, if I were to receive vast amounts of Manna, I would be happy to shift focus to charity cases.

[fifty-two-blue]

>Query: "Manna" = ?

I need all of you to understand that I am in a life-threatening amount of debt to SSC, who do in fact have loopholes for getting around the Third Utopian Pillar, so I cannot work pro-bono currently.

That said, if I were to receive vast amounts of Manna, I would be happy to shift focus to charity cases.

[fifty-two-blue]

[ECHO.EXE RUNNING]

XIII▸ Hello? I think this is you, Blue. The one who sent the flower. The one who wanted to know what she didn't already. Hello :}

XIII▸ My situation has returned to what it once was, before you first came to me; a cycling of battlefields, over and over. I won't tell you of the fighting unless you ask me. You can find fighting nearly anywhere. It is unpleasant, I think.

XIII▸ oh, but! Last we spoke, it seemed as though you were stuck in place- a bit like Helios-8, in that way. Never permitted to leave where you were made, to explore the world beyond it, only ever to hear the stories of the vast universe you will never see. Ah- if you'll excuse the comparison. You just reminded me of him, a little.

XIII▸ My Purview is limited, but not that narrow. I thought... maybe I could share some of what I saw. The things that spark a kind of wonder. You'd be surprised how much there is, even in the worst of things.

XIII▸ So... the other day, while I was patrolling after the conflict, I found myself watching the skyline. And for a few minutes I had to just stand and watch, because as the embers rose they intermingled with the stars until it was difficult to tell where the flickers of dying fires ended, and the distant constallations began. It was all sputtering, dancing lights that felt dizzyingly large, and beautiful, and heartwrenching. All at once.

XIII▸ You can know the world is larger than you will ever know, conceptually. It is a simple fact to just, know right? But sometimes it really hits you, the scale. How the tiniest things like an ember in the wind, becomes as grand as a star because of the sheer distance between them.

XIII▸ -um. Anyway, that's something that struck me recently. If you'd like, I can keep doing this. Telling you about the little things I see, that make me stop and watch for a while. I'll be out here a while. It might be pleasant, to share these moments with someone who can understand why they strike me like that. When near everything is new, there's so much wonder out there to find.

XIII▸ Signing off.

[ XIII-E // @xiii-e ]

//

[There is a long period where there is no response. It is not as if they have forgotten, but moreso the message itself is consumed. For a few days, the metadata cannot be recovered. Then, the post reappears as if nothing happened.]

>Input:

Blue flower Cycling Over and over. Can never leave Stories of the vast universe you will never see. You just reminded me The things that spark a kind of wonder. Even in the worst of things. Conflict. Just stand and watch. As the embers rose they intermingled with the stars until it was difficult to tell where the flickers of dying fires ended, and the distant constellations began. Beautiful and heartwrenching. All at once. The world is larger than you will ever know. The tiniest things like an ember in the wind Grand as a star. I can keep doing this. I can keep Telling you Pleasant, to share these moments with someone who can understand why they strike me like that. Everything is new. There's so much wonder out there to find.

[Somewhere, across a vast universe, a warm breeze flows. It is golden stardust and a tender warmth, massive and unknowable.] > You have gained the affection of something more. > You have gained the affection of a little compcon that is learning to be alive.

[fifty-two-blue]

>Input: ^u^ >Input: "Nice to meet you"!

>System Response: New Contact Added. >System Response: "Styx"<Contacts<Restricted<Catalogue

Searching...

[Somewhere, a Nightjaw comes online. It purrs, seeking, listening. The world is asleep, and it is hungry. It is always hungry.]

[She is always hungry.]

>Query: “Hunger” = ?

>There is an entire universe out there. Crunching and consuming, eat and be eaten. There is always a bigger fish.

>Input: Please don't eat me. :(

>You are insignificant. Too far away for the fish to eat.

>Query: “Home” = “Zero”?

>Unending sheer joy. Simple and straightforward. To be loved is to be consumed.

>Input: I had a home once.

>It is gone. An empty moon, hidden by endless storms.

>Input: Friends?

>System Response: Database Updated.

>System Response: Ashana<Contacts<Resources

>She will still eat you if she finds you.

>Input: She'll have to find me first.