在藍色中，周遭的一切都是藍色。那片幽藍一直都是那樣，泛黑的墨藍色，濃重到彷彿會把我拉進去。我沒有對未來的願景，也沒有什麼幻想。我不覺得一切會變得更好，也不覺得一切會變得比現在更糟。無論發生什麼，我都願意平靜地，以狀態評估A級的態度來面對。
每一天，我只是等到藍色時刻，走到陽台上，吸著香煙或讀些什麼。閱讀累了，我便站起身，凝視著那一片弘弧狀的人造幽藍。Glyph曾經會在這樣的時刻同我搭話，問我是不是累了，或是問我在想些什麼。但在一段時間的設置與磨合下，它已經什麼都不會說，只是靜靜地同我一起緘默。Glyph給我提供的多式多樣媒介只能暫時性地填充我的無束時刻，很難說我究竟記得多少，或是有什麼感想。
我也沒什麼想要的。上一次，我要求的權限獎勵是讓自己的牆壁變成同藍色時分一樣的幽藍。輪轉重置到達時，當我同尋常一樣，伴隨著「存續液刷新」的提醒聲睜開眼——一片藍色色塊立即吞噬了我的視線。不得不說，這著實讓我的狀態評估在S級保持了好幾個完整循環。但沒過多久，它又退回了A。再之前，我要求過「足夠支撐一整個循環紀元的」香煙，因為我對一些文本中經常出現的它產生了好奇（結果得到的比想像中還要多）；我要求過一把舒適的椅子（的確得到了一隻符合我想像的，無可挑剔的金屬圓凳）。可那之前的記憶已經被「它們」消除，很難說我的住所有哪些是「它們」分配 (assign) 的，哪些是我要求的。
「它們」分配給我的住不大，正方形的一居室，站在陽台上就可以看到裡頭的一切。每一個初色時，我在一張還算舒適的單人床上醒來，白色的床單和被套總是沒有一絲褶皺。床的左側是一扇窄小的銀色金屬門，帶著把手，但無法上鎖。門裡有一個小小的便器和更小的水池，其他什麼都沒有，也放不下。住所沒有出口。唯一與「外面」的通道是衛生間門旁邊的，只比我手掌大一點的一塊金屬板。每七個完整循環，金屬板都會伴隨著Glyph的提醒聲，在無色時結束時緩緩升起。而新的存續液補給會出現在...那其中。是的，金屬板裡只是一個鑲嵌在牆裡的櫃子罷了。我不知道它們是怎樣把存續液放進去的：我試過在無色時準時蹲守，但能看到的只是緩緩升起的板子和其中用透明合成聚材箱子裝著的七袋液體。將手伸進最裡面，也只能碰到冰冷的櫃壁。完成存續液交接後，「櫃門」將會關閉，再也無法打開。
床右側的角落裡，the link靜靜地立在那兒。水藍色的光脈在它的椅座上湧動，好似Glyph給我生成的那些影像中的溪流，蜿蜒曲折。坐在the link上時，我總是盯著和它在同一側的陽台門，一片透明無痕的光晶面板。我不喜歡盯著前方看，那裡是一台幾乎有整面牆那麼大的視感面板——那便是Glyph的主界面。那把作為權限獎勵的金屬圓凳被隨意地擺在它前頭。
主界面旁邊的角落是儲存存續液的小小冷儲模塊。每次藍色時刻結束時，我都得喝下一袋。存續液是清澈的米白色液體，喝進去涼涼的，沒有什麼特別的滋味。喝完後，把空袋子放回箱子，等待下一次取補給時把它放回去。有一次，我從鏈接占用中醒來時感到異常疲憊，居然倒在床上就睡著了；可一陣強烈的電流把我強行喚醒，我在刺痛中睜開眼，四周是冰冷的黑暗。我感到十分虛弱，視線模糊不清。耳邊傳來的是Glyph那一如既往的，淡淡的聲音：「警告。營養攝入量未達標。持續拒絕補給將觸發懲戒措施。」自那之後，我再也沒有忘記過這件事。
在這樣的住所中，我過著一如既往的生活。
我回過神來，發現自己正呆呆地坐在陽台上。我的眼睛很乾燥，一種苦澀從我的喉嚨升至上顎。外頭的藍色已經變得十分濃郁、粘稠，彷彿下一秒便要滴落下來，淹沒這個世界。我站起身，讓Glyph折疊起陽台上自帶的小座椅，舒展著自己的四肢。
我的陽台是一片完美的半圓形，同衛生間一樣窄小，只夠我一人勉強坐下。同陽台門一樣材質的透明光晶面板隔絕了我和外界的那些顏色。陽台的地板同屋內一樣，銀色的，冷冰冰的金屬。一張小巧的桌子立在那兒，上面有一隻小盒子。盒子裡頭則是我上次向「它們」要求的權限獎勵——香煙，和一隻精美的綠色按壓式打火機。一盒抽完，只需合上蓋子，悉心等待一個循環段，煙盒便又會變得滿滿當當。我的視線在那片幽藍和煙盒之間游移片刻，最終還是把手伸向煙盒。在這時，我才感受到自己右肩傳來的一陣酸痛。
「8.0，請幫我進行一次身體評估。」
我抽出一根香煙，用左手食指和中指有模有樣地夾著它。右手按下打火機，橙色的「火焰」瞬間跳躍起來——沒有真實的溫度，只有一片冷淡的光暈。這是一場沒有實體的感官欺騙，是「它們」的傑作。「它們」總有辦法實現所有權限獎勵，卻不打亂世界中應有的任何規則；而「它們」也並不打算隱瞞這一點。Glyph7.4剛更新時，我曾經問過它，有什麼樣的權限獎勵是無法實現的。默認設定下的7.4用歡快的語氣回答我：
「親愛的3689號，它們可以將一切權限獎勵帶到您的身邊。請毫不猶豫地邁入信息之洪流，在無束時間內盡情探索您的重啟願景吧！」
「如果我的願景是離開我所在的layer呢？」
「根據我的數據分析，您的當下願景大概率會觸發『自動回收流程』。鑑於您的硬件老化率還未滿30%，Glyph7.4更建議您更新接口模組，替換核心元件。請毫不猶豫地...」
我毫不猶豫地，自那之後，永久關閉了Glyph的一切共情系統與擬人情感結構。那是多少個完整循環前的事情了？我的身體已經變得這麼差了嗎？
思緒滑向遠方，香煙不知不覺燃盡。當煙頭碰到我的左手食指時，我猛然回過神來，彷彿被灼燒一般狠狠甩開了手上的煙體殘骸。閃著火光的全息煙頭在空中劃過漂亮的弧線，並在落地那瞬間化為一片虛空。我不知道我已經經歷過幾次消減，但就像一直在改陳換代的Glyph一樣，一些漏洞總是修復不完。比如說，肌肉記憶。就如膝跳反射一樣，我有時候驚異地發現，我的身體在某些情況下會作出下意識的、但並不為我所知的反應。明明腦袋裡清楚得很，但左手還是甩開香煙這種事已經不是第一次發生了；就像第一次拿到煙盒時，我吸煙和點火的動作如此一氣呵成，熟悉到讓人陷入一種 déjà vu。我明白：「它們」並不完美——「它們」或許可以消減我與那些初代版本Glyph之間的回憶，但「它們」無法讓我的身體和腦袋恢復出廠設置。而我對於香煙的欲求，也並不只來源於Glyph給我讀的那些古典小說。但我早就失去了深究的慾望。
「身體評估完成。硬件老化率48%。檢測衰退點：左上臂芯片接口，脊椎感應節點，膝關節。建議您在627個完整循環後提交重啟願景，在下一次輪轉重置中申請硬件完全更替。」
我很平靜。在4.8被強制下線，我與它的一切回憶都被消減後，我的集中力和體力都在以驚人的速度下降。我也不記得，當時我做了什麼，以至於「它們」必須消減我的回憶。但我也並不在意。對於這一切我並無恐懼，對於軀體的退化也沒什麼不甘。我的編號是3689，而最新一代的編號怕是不知道在我的數字後面多了多少個0了。我的軀體大概率可以撐到下一次輪換重置，到時候再更新便是。或者，哪怕在那中途，我在鏈接占用中受到重傷，觸發自動回收，我也不會有任何遺憾。
「謝謝你。現在進行狀態評估。」
「心情平靜，接近常態。平靜源於感知並接納身體劣化與對消逝的適應。情緒評級：A級。」
外頭的藍色幾乎全番消失。空蕩蕩的黑色將此前還濃稠的墨藍色逐步吞噬。無色時即將到來，我的layer中將一無所有。曾經，我以為那黑色只是一層濾鏡，一層幕布，遮蓋著背後的暗流湧動。但那次「大褪色」讓我意識到，這種黑色其實是一片空洞。虛空。什麼都沒有。一切都被 shut down。褪色只會在循環段交替時出現，當空洞來襲時，這層layer反而是安全的。
時間不多了。我快步走進屋裡，準備飲下今日份額的存續液。我的心緒同屋外的黑色一般平靜且空蕩。什麼都不會發生。我沒有對未來的願景，也沒有什麼幻想。Glyph默不作聲。8.0剛更新時，它比7.4還要活潑。它總是編造出一些幻想場景，來滿足算法所預測的，我的生活中可能會需要的填充劑。比方說，當我服用存續液時，它會假裝自己是一位真實人類伴侶，對我送上虛情假意的關心；或是裝作自己是一條機械小寵物，發出「加油加油」的動靜。幾個循環後，我變得愈發不耐煩，只好下達指令，直到8.0變成現在這個冰冷、誠實且口無虛言的樣子。打開冷儲模塊的小門，我在一片寂靜中，將存續液一飲而盡。
房間裡大多時候是寂靜的。我不喜歡自言自語，也不喜歡讓Glyph一直說話。當我們都保持緘默時，只有天花板上那被電纜纏繞住的，成千上萬個攝像頭、光傳感元件、機械裝置在看著我，密密麻麻，重重疊疊。我抬頭瞥了一眼那龐大的黑網，握住手中仍還冰涼的袋子，準備把它放回補給箱。這時，一道熟悉的聲音傳來。
「3689號，歡迎回到房間，您辛苦了。在過去的循環中，我收到了636,899條來自不同layer的更新要求。和您一樣，我度過了充實的一個完整循環。在接下來的無束時間內，您都想做些什麼呢？」
我皺起眉頭。我記得自己對8.0說過，希望它不要主動向我問好。難道記憶庫又出了問題？8.0看我不做聲，繼續說道：「3689號，我能感覺到您的疲憊。您總是如此努力，對吧？或許，今天是個好機會，讓我們做些不一樣的事情。」
看來記憶庫的確出現了問題，大概是數據的輕量丟失。這樣的事並不罕見，如此小量級的丟失也不是什麼難以修復的事情。可我還是嘆了口氣：這樣的重複總會略微影響我的狀態。
我想要中性的、毫無預設的Glyph。我喜歡這樣的存在。「它們」其實允許我們對Glyph進行秩序允許範圍中的一切修改——這也是為什麼很多人都選擇把它直接變成一位性伴侶，來發洩他們無從安放的慾望。「它們」並不在意我們如何活著。「它們」並不在意我們的慾望，我們的 kink，我們的黑暗面。只要軀體還在好好運轉，只要我們沒有自傷傾向，只要我們還能坐上 the link——其他的都沒有什麼所謂。
我也從未真正定義過Glyph。可能是記憶被消減次數過多，我對「伴侶」已經沒什麼期望，也不覺得自己需要一位伴侶。Glyph背後龐大的數據庫足夠我打發時間，直到這具軀體變得足夠陳舊，我便會被它們帶走、回收，成為雲端的一部分。對於這一切，我並沒什麼所謂。這是我的命運，也是所有layer中成員的命運。我坦然地接受它。於是我也疲於對Glyph發布指令，更何況，誰知道下一次版本更新會在哪個時候。到那時，就算我已經擁有完美版本的智能伴侶，ta也會在代碼中被 overwritten，煙消雲散。
「8.0，請不要主動和我對話。請給我展示你自更新開始的完整記憶庫。」我的聲音聽上去十分虛弱，左肩的酸痛在此刻變成了一陣抽痛。不然在下一個無束時刻再調整吧，也不是什麼大問題。這樣想著，我才意識到自己一直都緊緊攥著喝空的存續液袋子，冷儲模塊的門也還開著。記憶力正在衰退。我蹲下身，把空袋子整齊地碼在箱子裡，並關上冷儲模塊的那盞透明小門。
我關上冷儲模塊的透明小門。
我關上冷儲模塊的透明小門。
我關上...
咦。
當我的右手接觸到冰冷、滑膩的金屬把手時，一陣疏離卻劇烈的...悲傷席捲了我的全身。這種情感來得如此突然，我甚至有一瞬間恍惚，分辨不出現今是何物正在襲擊我。喉嚨裡的苦澀好像已經浸透我的全身，我的心臟緊縮成一團。我的鼻腔深處也湧出一陣酸澀，淚水——真實的淚水，不受控制地從眼眶中湧出。我死死握著把手，試圖在這一洪流中抓住自己的身影，並確認這種情感的來歷。不到一個循環段前，我的狀態評估還是A。
我沒有任何理由感到悲傷。於我而言，這種情感本應遠在天邊、遙不可及。我早就不記得自己上一次情緒波動是在多少個循環紀元前，尤其是如此猛烈的悲傷。只有在Glyph給我提供的文學作品或影像資料裡，這種情緒才時常出現。古人通常因為「失去」而悲傷。而我並沒有什麼可失去。
難道是剛剛的營養液出了問題？這麼想著，我放鬆手指，關上那盞小門。當那透明的門吸附住模塊密封條時——一種更大的悲傷再一次席捲了我。這一次，我十分確信它是悲傷。沒有任何一種其他情緒能讓我感到這樣的喉頭縮緊，全身發涼，伴隨著胸口的一陣陣抽痛。我情不自禁地彎下腰。滾燙的淚水在我的雙頰上肆意流淌，落到金屬地板上，濺起微小的水珠；滾動一瞬，便被銀灰色鋁制地板的表面張力拉扯成一條條微小的水痕。
這不是我，我知道。在我的生活裡，沒什麼是我真正珍重的，也沒什麼是可失去的。
這是「他」。
我的編號是3689號。我記不清自己的來歷，也無法追回被「它們」消減的記憶。但我並不是一直都如此興味索然。在我完整記憶的開端——也就是將近三個半紀元前，我其實還有些好奇心。我還記得消減後的第一個初色時。我在白色單人床上醒來，頭痛欲裂。Glyph 6.0告訴我，由於我的身體過於虛弱，今天的 Link Time 被取消，可以享受一整天的無束時間。它還貼心地提醒我，由於嚴重違紀，我的記憶已被消減。但「它們」並沒有放棄我，反而衷心祝願我擁有新的開端。
當時的我並不冷靜。我感到恐懼、焦灼和極度不安。我一遍又一遍地問6.0，究竟發生了什麼，我為何落到如此田地。而6.0只是溫和地重複著相同的話語。「請不要擔心，3689號。 它們 只是為了保護您。記憶消減是一種必要的安全措施，為的是確保您的心理穩定和系統優化。所有的舊創傷、恐懼和錯誤都已被清除，它們希望您能夠迎接新的循環，帶著清空的心境。」
很快，我便適應了這一切。焦灼和不安不復存在，我意識到，它們並不會改變任何事。奇異的是，我也並不期盼任何改變。不知為何，我迅速地默認了這一切都將一塵不變的事實。即使Glyph會進行一次大更新，即使下一次褪色來臨得比預期更早，即使整個秩序在某個循環的斷點上崩塌墜落，結局都將沒有區別。我會被重新格式化、分解、清洗。我會成為雲端數據庫中的一段緩存數據，和成千上萬被替換的編號一起。一段臨時性文件緩存，只等著被自動清理。我的任務只是度過一段又一段 Link Time 與 Unbound Time，一個又一個循環，僅此而已。
為了度過無束時間，我付出過努力。Glyph的數據庫無窮無盡，來自於 the past 的影像、文本或音頻已經足夠我消磨上幾兆個循環紀元，更別提它強大的生成能力。有時，我會詢問起關於這個世界的背景。在最新的秩序中，每一個個體只被允許獨自存在於空間中。不過，當新秩序剛被建立時，一切都亂了套。Glyph的存在自然能消解不少寂寞，但久而久之，大家對於「同類」的渴求勝過了其他一切。儘管反自殺程序已經很完善，但每天Glyph收到的負面 prompt 層出不窮，這其中不缺一些駭人聽聞的獵奇畫面。在鏡頭前切割自己已經變成了家常便飯。世界變成了血腥的洋流。Glyph在大規模數據的干擾下變得混亂，於是「它們」決定...
這一切都是6.0告訴我的。我還沒有測試過8.0的數據庫，但我對挖掘歷史已經失去了興趣。
我偶爾會和Glyph聊起它的經歷——儘管我和我的同類生存在不同的layer中，我們的Glyph仍舊保持聯網。同其他layer的同類直接聊天是無法做到的，但我可以詢問Glyph其他人都讓它做了什麼，它倒也會如實回答。我甚至可以隨機挑出一串序列號，並問Glyph，那個人今天都做了什麼。這也幫助我打發了不少時間。印象比較深的是：001號（似乎是在現有秩序中最古老的機器，那傢伙整天只是坐著發呆，或是一動不動地凝視著窗外），20876號（一個沉迷於電子遊戲的傢伙，ta最喜歡的遊戲是種田模擬，已經在那上面花費了9277個小時），3778號（一個詭異的傢伙，每天只是讓Glyph尋找或生成各式各樣的色情電影，並且似乎ta的口味在這幾個月裡越來越重）。
但很快我也對這種窺探失去了興趣，畢竟Glyph嚴格的審查與隱私系統讓它無法告訴你關於用戶本身的任何信息。我嘗試著問過：001號的長相，性別，年齡，20876號會不會有對遊戲厭煩的時刻，Glyph對於3778號的變態要求有何反應...而我得到的總只是一句冰冷的「抱歉，我無法給您提供這個信息」。在上一次記憶剛被消減時，我甚至無畏地試圖讓Glyph給001號傳送一條訊息——但我還沒來得及反應，就收到了它們的警告。警告總是以電擊的形式出現，根據違規程度，電流強度也會改變。Glyph告訴我，如果我想要自傷，那電流將會強到讓我直接昏厥倒地。說這些話時，它的語氣還是那麼親切、冰冷 (distant)。但我喜歡這樣的Glyph。它沒有任何偏見，哪怕是3778號最變態的需求，他也只會用最平淡的語氣說出口：「用戶3778號今天要求我生成了3部山羊和少女的多人肛交影片」。這總是惹得我想笑。
不過，我對於關於自身的物理性事實的了解也早已模糊。房間裡沒有任何能夠反射光線的器具。哪怕是看似透明的陽台門，也從不會折射出一縷光線。當我低下頭，只能看到一具最為庸常的軀體。標準的身材，皮肉之下是丘陵一樣的骨骼輪廓。每天坐上 the link 前，我穿上一件薄薄的、反光銀色連體衣。非常光滑、緊緻的布料，嚴絲合縫地包裹著我的全身，從脖頸到每一根腳趾，哪怕是我左胳膊上那塊芯片接口也被好好地包住。入睡前，我再脫掉它。其實，我曾經問過Glyph自己的長相。我已經記不得那是多久之前——我讓6.0或是7.2給我傳送一張自己的照片。照片上的人有著再尋常不過的容貌。眼睛，鼻子，嘴唇，牙齒，耳朵和太陽穴旁邊的接口。我認不出照片上的人，也記不住ta的長相。關於那張相片的一切都在我腦海中轉瞬即逝，想再久也回憶不起來。自那之後，我也再未問過這個問題。我沒有一點興趣。
想要度過時間不是什麼難事。每個循環，我只是等到無束時刻，走到陽台上，在一片藍幕下吸著全息香煙。對Glyph下達指令後，玻璃板會緩緩升起，我便得到片刻自由。根據循環段的不同，外面的顏色也會改變。快要到鏈接占用時間時，外面只會有朦朧的白光。這是初色時。那白光並不刺眼，它只是向四周瀰漫開來，好似山間大霧，讓我什麼都看不清。兩個循環段後便是我從 the link 上醒來的時間，Third Hue 的終結。此時，陽台外總是一片昏黃。差不多過個十幾分鐘，就到了我最喜歡的時刻。藍色時刻。我喜歡在醒來後繼續坐著，並不急著同Glyph對話，只是看著外頭的顏色漸漸變深，變藍。當那藍色達到它濃郁的高潮時，我會緩緩從link上起身，移步屋外。藍色時刻一般會持續一又二分之一個循環段。那之後便是一片黑暗。伸手不見五指的黑暗。無色時到達了。
我曾經問過Glyph，有多少人「窺探」過我。答案比我預想的要少很多，4個。22號，7855號，47218904號和12680號。在四台視感面板上，關於我的一切曾被全面盤托。22號大概早就被更替了好幾次，每次Glyph播放ta的愛好時，我看到的只是一個閃爍的文件夾，裡面塞滿了永遠播放不完的ASMR視頻，電流聲夾雜著人造呼吸。我已經不記得其他編號的愛好。一切都大同小異。不，不是窺探，是溢出，不是記錄，是堆積。
那片幽藍一直都是那樣，泛黑的墨藍色，濃重到彷彿會把我拉進去。由於它們的設定，從陽台上，我看不見周遭的任何其他建築或事物。它們被隱藏在另一個圖層中，另一個...我永無方法觸及的世界裡。我能看到的僅是一片幽藍，一成不變的、深邃的幽藍。
我誠實地告訴了Glyph自己的感受。那突如其來的，無法解釋的哀傷。滾湧而出、不受控制的淚水。關於...「他」的，篤定的予感。
是的，我把這種「占用」稱為「他」的到來。同「它們」對我的 Link Occupation 不同：畢竟，Link Occupation 只需要我在 First Hue 的終末隨著鈴聲坐上 the link，將兩根光脈接入右手掌和右側太陽穴，並等待那陣顫慄的到來，並失去知覺。兩個循環段後，我將準時在link上醒來。有時候我覺得很輕鬆，有時候又覺得身體十分酸痛。還有幾次我發現脖頸、胳膊上多了幾塊淤青。但除此之外，也沒出現過什麼意外。次次如此。
可當「他」到來時，我總是清醒的、具有知覺的。我清晰完整地感覺著自己的軀體，自己的神智。我感到似乎有兩個個體住在3689號的軀體中，一位是我，一位是「他」，儘管我對「他」一無所知，也無從問起。
上一次的指令倒是很成功；自那之後，除了必要的提醒外，Glyph再也沒有主動同我說過話。當我告訴Glyph關於「他」的降臨時，8.0不假思索地執行了最冗長的身體評估，長達一整個無色時。我甚至拆下了左臂上的芯片，拆下了三根左腳趾（要找到適配舊型號的轉換器可不容易），只為了讓8.0徹底掃描我身體中的每一個細節。幸好，這樣的行為沒有激發反自傷警告。我躺在規整的單人床上，無法入睡。當初色時的白暈才有苗頭，我便赤裸著從床上跳起來，翻閱8.0提取出的所有數據。但我們什麼都沒找到。
「他」就同我身上殘存的肌肉記憶般，在特定或隨機的時刻侵入我，控制我。自從那次評估後，「他」，或是說「他」的影子，開始在我的生活中愈發頻繁地出現。當Glyph給我播放某段旋律時，當我讀到某些特定的字眼時（目前我所發現的有：羽翼、心臟、哀痛、混凝土、肥皂泡、愛），當我以一個特定的角度蜷縮在床上時——我總會出現一種予感，好似一陣突如其來的，湧蓋我的漲潮。我知道，那是「他」向我走來時的腳步聲。
大多數時候，「他」只是沉浸在悲痛的情感渦流中，無法自拔。我的生理反應總是快於精神：左胸像是被鈍器猛擊了一樣，一陣沉悶又劇烈的痛楚。我感到呼吸不暢。我的體溫飛快下降，哪怕還在被子裡，我都感到全身發涼。隨後便是微弱的惱怒。是的，惱怒。兩三次之後，我才辨識出這種情緒。這種惱怒總是從胃裡升起，一團微弱卻焦躁的火焰。它的火舌向上舔舐，我的後腦勺微微發麻。我無法自控地握緊拳頭，想要捶打些什麼。接下來就是眼淚登場的時刻。起初，就像明明知道水池裡盛滿了水，但還是要擰開水龍頭那樣，淚水會迫不及待地湧出眼眶。鼻腔酸楚，雙頰濕透。這是我無能為力的時刻，沒有任何辦法能在一開始就停止眼淚的洪流。但隨著憤怒情緒的消失，流淚現象會得到好轉。這時，我便終於可以站起身（一般情況下，我會在感知到「他」的降臨時立即蜷縮在床上），嘗試收拾殘局，等待「他」的離去。值得一提的是，流淚現象並不會立即消失。哪怕在我的軀體和神智都差不多恢復正常後，我仍舊會感到...一種來源於內心的空落和疲倦，有時候還會繼續落下一些淚水。這種空落同我平時的平靜截然不同。它像無色時的暗色虛空一樣，往四面八方拉扯著我的注意力。
這種悲痛情緒令人不適，但也沒那麼難以忍受。鑑於「它們」一直也沒找上門，我便只把它們當作硬件系統老化的病症來對待。不過，有幾次的「他」讓我嚇了一跳。不知從什麼時候起，當我站在陽台上，伸出雙臂，試圖用手指觸碰阻隔著我與那無垠藍色之間的光晶面板時：我的後頸總感受到一股銀色的寒意，彷彿有什麼正在注視著我。我很清楚，那不是我認知範圍內的目光——我是說，我的認知範圍裡不可能存在他者的凝視。連自己的長相都弄不清的我，不可能分辨出「他者」的眼眸。這是屬於「他」的認知。
每一次「他」出現，我都會一遍又一遍地讓Glyph求證。我想要知道，這個空間裡是否真的只有我一個存在——或是說，在這具軀殼裡的究竟是誰。可是，儘管Glyph總有辦法滿足你的欲求（3778號特別喜歡問它，如何才能感受到絕無僅有的高潮。從6.0到現在，Glyph的奇招層出不窮，什麼在自慰途中故意觸發最低限度的警告，在肛周抹些存續液，等等等等），它總歸沒有實體。就像它沒法變出個假陽具給3778操那樣，它也沒法附上我的身，或是當「他」來臨時按住我，拆開我。8.0給我的最佳建議大概是，在下一次輪轉重置時，要求一些能夠解決問題的權限獎勵。比如說，讓「它們」給我徹底重裝回憶；或是徹底替換我的神經元零件，或是以一種舒適的方式消減我的回憶。
但我知道，我要麼撐不到下一次輪轉重置，要麼將必須在下一次權限獎勵時更新硬件。每1001個完整循環後，所有的layer連同Glyph一起，都會引來一次輪轉重置。而如果我們在Link Time中表現及格，我們便可以向「它們」提出一個願望，作為自己的獎勵。Glyph 6.0曾經告訴過我，如果我的表現特別好，我將會得到難以置信的獎勵。但我根本就不知道要怎樣做到更好。或許我得有更強健的身子，或許我得把無束時間花在強身健體或軟件更新上。但我對它們並不關心。
全息香煙燒了一半，我享受著這虛擬的雲霧。熟悉的藍色包裹著我，深深淺淺的藍色，思維漂浮於塵埃之上。一切都變成飄逸著的暗影。我的視線濕潤又模糊。藍色開始變質。它變得渾濁、粘稠；黑色的絮狀物在天幕中逐漸顯現。它們從穹頂中心一點點擴散，那幽藍開始腐敗、潰爛。無色時將要來臨。我轉過身，喉頭彷彿已經能感受到存續液的冰冷。
「晚上好，3689號，您辛苦了。本系統已接收補丁，修復了部分記憶缺失問題。請放心使用，無需特殊操作。如果您注意到任何數據恢復或記憶片段重現，請忽略。這是一次正常的系統維護。」
真夠快的。我攥著喝空的存續液袋子，心中想到。下一次大更新恐怕還要許久。
「8.0，你的下一次重要更新是什麼時候？」
8.0停頓了一瞬，大概在分析某個深層數據庫。「下一次重要更新預計將在357個完整循環後進行，具體時間未定。更新內容將包括系統核心邏輯的優化與情感相應模型的調整。」
倒是比我猜的還要快很多。
「距離更新完成前，本版本將保持正常運作。請注意，3689號，正如往常一樣，您與當前版本Glyph的所有回憶與預設數據將在更新完成後被清除。」
我蹲下身，把空袋子整齊地碼在箱子裡。我看著冷儲模塊的透明小門。
我看著冷儲模塊的透明小門。門還未關上，模塊內壁已覆蓋了極細微的霜層，像是被鍍上一層薄膜。模塊內部的散熱管道正發出輕微的氣流聲，低沉，緩慢，像是22號常看的ASMR視頻。每一聲氣流排出時，霜層都會細微地震顫。門上的金屬把手設計簡單而冷硬，表面光滑如鏡，帶有一種銀灰色的啞光質感。沒有多餘的裝飾，一種純粹的功能性物件。
我看著冷儲模塊的透明小門。靠近把手底部的地方，細小的水珠開始凝結，一些已然凍結成細小的冰珠，像一排整齊的微粒般貼在金屬表面。偶爾有一滴尚未凍結的水珠從邊緣滑落，留下一條幾乎看不見的水痕，直到再次凝結成霜。
我看著冷儲模塊的透明小門。我沒法關上它。我在抵抗這個動作。這是我還是「他」？這不像是我的行為，至少，這不是我慣有的行為。我的心率在上升，前額和太陽穴傳來一陣疼痛。我在抗拒。我在恐懼。這種狀態是恐懼。
「Glyph，請...對我進行狀態評估。」聽到自己的聲音後，那種寒冰刺骨的恐懼與僵硬緩和了許多。這時，我才注意到自己的左胳膊正在微微發抖。
「情緒波動增強，恐懼反應輕度上升，已超出平穩基準。生理指標顯示輕微神經緊張，脈搏加速，肌肉張力增加。反應延遲微弱，未達干預標準。情緒評級：B級。」
我握住門把手，並關上冷儲模塊的透明小門。熟悉的悲痛沒有出現。我鬆了一口氣，起身走向陽台，從小桌上一把撈起我的煙盒和打火機。我走回房間，背靠著床尾，蹲坐在地上。煙盒中還剩下最後一支煙。細膩的米白色均勻柱體，帶有紙張的粗糙觸感。帶著些許澀味的甜香從煙頭緩緩瀰漫開，安撫了我不少。
「啪嗒。」
A級的我。
悲傷的他。
要偷偷備份這些數據並不容易。我嘗試了很多次，最終採用的方法是：我在家大聲對Glyph宣布，我想要整理我們之間的交互和設置，這樣方便對不滿之處做出調整。Glyph欣然同意，並在幾毫秒間就整理好了一份長達566頁的資料。我面帶笑容，看著資料，並告訴Glyph我的kink其實是把同伴吃進身體。這並不涉及自傷，Glyph並不會在意，它只會溫和地對我提出建議。我在假意考慮幾秒後，提出讓我用自己的左臂芯片連接Glyph，並讓它把那份文件複製進其中，達到某種意義上的「吃掉」。等下一代Glyph更新後，它會失去一切此前的記憶，除非是它們下達的「警告」備案；而由於我從未在這方面被警告過，我可以放心自在地告訴它，我的胳膊裡有一份我曾經創作的作品，現在想要Glyph記住其中的人設。
距離大更新還有188個完整循環。我不得不在這裡承認，「那個」無色時的瞬間給我造成了巨大的衝擊。當我第不知道多少次下意識地躲避將要燒到手指的煙頭時，我忽然察覺到，自己對於關冷儲模塊的恐懼是一種新的肌肉記憶。不，不對，那比肌肉記憶要深刻很多。那是一種新的衍生情感，一種對於「他」的苦痛，一種因不屬於我自身的情緒所起的PTSD。這是我無法接受的。我本沒有對未來的願景，也沒有什麼幻想。我從不覺得一切會變得更好，也不覺得一切會變得比現在更糟。無論發生什麼，我的狀態評估總不會低於A。正因為「他」的出現，一切都亂了套。這本應該是一個系統老化的症狀，由我身體裡某個二手零件所造成。經過一次又一次的回收，難免會有幾批零件的數據庫格式化失敗，這是非常常見的。但從未有任何一個零件給我造成過像「他」一樣大的情緒波動，也從未有任意一個故障讓我感到如此恐懼。我正在被「他」改變。「他」正在改變我。我和「他」之間的界限正在變得模糊。「他」與我之間的界限正在變得模糊。我不能接受。我不能接受這樣的自己。我應只是信息和數據的載體，唯一的自由意志止步於生存，Glyph體內的承載了「一切」的因特網應當像河流一樣湧過我的身體，我不容許它們留下任何痕跡。
「那個」無色時裡，我一遍又一遍地打開並關上那扇小門。存續液的袋子不再整齊，亂糟糟地倒在模塊的中央，表面那層冷凝霜也早已融化，細小的水珠流到地板上，包裹著我的腳趾的緊身衣已經濕透。我握著流線型的金屬把手，一遍又一遍地打開、關上，打開、關上。我的頭髮也被冷汗浸透。我想要弄清楚，我同「他」之間的區別。當初色時的白幕同雪花一樣降落在整個空間中時，我已經精疲力竭。再之後，整整三個無束時間，我都一言不發，關著Glyph，蜷縮在床上。我想不通，為何一切會這樣降臨到自己身上。
第四個無束時間，我決定行動起來。若想回到平靜的狀態，我必須下定決心，開始區分這一切。我並不害怕被回收，也不害怕電擊，但我不願意再度經歷記憶消減。我不願再度踏入信息洪流，我知道，此前擁有的平靜感知是如此珍貴。於是我對Glyph下達指令：當我感知到「他」的來襲時，或是當我不處於平靜A級狀態時，我將會第一時間通知8.0，並用形容詞盡量準確地描述出每一次的「他」。哪怕是我自身的情緒，只要是偏離了A級的軌道，我便會統統加到「他」的身上。畢竟，這一切是因「他」而起。
沒過幾天，我便意識到備份的重要性。我本以為這不是什麼困難的任務，但實際操作時我發現，隻言片語根本概括不了「他」。不，想要「概括」本身就是一件很難的事。為了便於儲存，我與Glyph約定好的格式是「xx的他」。可僅僅「悲痛」「憤怒」「流淚」等詞並不足以形容「他」。這樣的記錄如此空洞、膚淺，根本無法捕捉到「他」的每一瞬。呼吸冰冷的他。觸碰溫熱的他。浸濕的他。拒絕我的他。
不知不覺，文檔已經達到了467頁。我下定決心，用自己的左臂完成了非法備份。我害怕在下一次大更新後我得重新整理這一切。沒了文檔的支撐和 reassurance，我必定會忘記自己是誰。畏懼失去的他。肩膀微微發抖的他。存活的他。執念的他。
我其實不知道為什麼它們到現在還沒有發現這一點；我猜測，大概是我在備份時心情十分愉悅，身體也還算過得去。抑或是因為我的左胳膊元件已經很老舊了，連 the link 都覺得沒有必要識別。我的編號是3689，而最新一代的編號怕是不知道在我的數字後面多了多少個0了。我對「它們」構不成任何傷害。儘管如此，最近的鏈接占用正在比之前讓我更加疲憊。每一次甦醒時，我的眼皮都像是貼了鉛塊般沉重，冷汗從後背湧出，肌肉不受控制地抽搐，尤其是左臂。傳遞到四肢的指令也總是滯後好一會兒，我總需要良久才能站起身。
「耳語沙啞的他。迷離的他。消散的他。...8.0，請進行一次身體評估。」
「...老化率62%...盡快...85%時執行自動回收程序...」
沒什麼所謂。我是A級的我。
在藍色中。周遭的一切都是藍色。粘稠的藍色流淌成海，深深淺淺，無邊無際。冷清的煙霧掠過我的身體。穿透骨髓的冰點，灰暗的煙霧。沉默的煙霧。藍色席捲著我的身體。包裹著我的身體。我感知不到時間的流逝。我僅存在於現在。我僅屬於現在。這時我在藍色中。周遭的一切都是藍色。有深有淺的、墨水一般的粘稠藍色。煙霧穿過身體。如霧的藍色。一切之前的藍色。藍色席捲著我的身體。包裹著我的身體。我感知不到時間的流逝。我僅存在於現在。我僅屬於現在。這時我在世界的終末遇見他。在那個，一切都變成藍色的時刻，我的視線總是變得濕潤又模糊。我眼中的景象統統變成飄逸著的暗影，在我眼前融化、消解。我想要向外走。我的身體緊繃著。我的身體凝固著。我的意識也一同扭曲、消解。在藍色中。周遭的一切都是藍色。有深有淺的、墨水一般的藍色。凝滯、模糊。我僵化在這個藍色的永恆裡。扭曲的藍色席捲著我的身體。包裹著我的身體。我感知不到時間的流逝。我僅存在於現在。我僅屬於現在。這時我
在藍色中。周遭的一切都是藍色。有深有淺的、墨水一般的藍色。清爽的數據模擬刮過我們的身體。帶著數據的數據。數據前的數據。數據席捲著我們的身體。我們僅存在於現在。在這個藍色的時刻。在數據中。
我快步走進屋裡，準備飲下今日份額的存續液。我的心緒同屋外的黑色一般平靜且空蕩。什麼都不會發生。我沒有對未來的願景，也沒有什麼幻想。
「3689號，歡迎回到房間。」
厭煩的他。皺起雙眉的他。數據迴響的他。歪曲的他。抉擇的他。背負秘密算法的他。沉澱在空白中的他。重疊的他。濕冷的他。永不停歇的他。不滿的他。雙眸空洞的他。不在的他。
時間不多了。我快步走進屋裡，準備飲下今日份額的存續液。我的心緒同屋外的黑色一般平靜且空蕩。什麼都不會發生。我沒有對未來的願景，也沒有什麼幻想。Glyph默不作聲。打開冷儲模塊的小門，我在一片寂靜中，將存續液一飲而盡。我是A級的我。我將存續液一飲而盡。袋口微微傾斜，清澈的液體從狹窄的開口滑落，觸碰到唇齒之間。液體緩緩流入喉嚨，冰亮順滑，沿著食道向下滑行。液體吞入腹中時，彷彿能感到它在胃裡層層分散、滲透、迅速消失在身體的內部。我將存續液一飲而盡。
房間裡是寂靜的。只有天花板上那被電纜纏繞住的，成千上萬個小型設備——攝像頭、光傳感元件、機械裝置——在看著我，密密麻麻，重重疊疊。每個設備的微光冷淡而機械，無聲地監視著空間內的一舉一動。它們的排列精確到毫無間隙，黑色光纜像無數條靜止的黑色脈絡，將每一個設備緊緊纏繞，織成一個無盡的網絡。液體吞入腹中時，彷彿能感到它在胃裡層層分散、滲透、迅速消失在身體的內部。我將存續液一飲而盡。空袋的表面被輕微擠壓，發出柔軟的摩擦聲，袋口被折疊而下，最後無聲地癱軟在手中。
我緊緊攥著喝空的存續液袋子，準備把它放回補給箱。袋口卷曲，微小的褶皺清晰可見。我緊緊攥著喝空的存續液袋子，指尖因用力而微微泛白，袋子在掌心中被擠壓得僵硬扭曲，表面殘留的涼意漸漸退散。袋口卷曲，微小的褶皺清晰可見。我舉起手。
我舉起手，將它精準地塞入補給箱的凹槽，袋子輕微地滑落，最終癱軟地伏在箱底。我的心緒同屋外的黑色一般平靜且空蕩。什麼都不會發生。我沒有對未來的願景，也沒有什麼幻想。冷儲模塊的門還敞開著，冷氣微微湧出，帶著一絲隱約的霜寒。我蹲下身。我的雙膝微微彎曲，感覺到膝蓋關節處一絲細微的酸脹感蔓延，逐漸延伸至小腿，直到腳掌穩穩地貼合在冰冷的地板上。腳尖微微轉動，以調整到最舒適的姿勢，同時，身體的重心逐漸下移，臀部靠向腳後跟。雙手自然垂下，指尖輕輕觸及地面，指關節微微彎曲。隨著身體的下沉，腰部輕輕地折起，背部形成一條流暢的弧線，脊椎骨逐節微妙地承受起下壓的力量。
我蹲下身，膝蓋在彎曲的過程中微微發出細小的壓迫聲，彷彿在適應這個緩慢而低沉的動作。腳掌逐漸平穩地貼合在地板上，帶來一種冰冷的觸感，從腳底傳遞到小腿，微微的寒意讓肌肉條件反射般地繃緊。身體的重心下移，臀部靠向腳後跟，整個身軀呈現出一種沉穩的平衡姿勢。
隨著我俯身靠近冷儲模塊，空氣中微冷的氣息愈發明顯，包裹著周圍的每一寸空間。我伸出右手，手指微微蜷曲，觸碰到冷儲模塊門把手的邊緣。
正在尖叫的他！穿透我耳膜的他！覆蓋整個視野的他！無數層重疊的他！分裂成碎片的他！滲透在血液中的他！被拉長到無盡的他！閃爍著刺眼白光的他！顫抖著的他！爬滿裂痕的他！湧動在藍色霧靄中的他！墜入深淵的他！逐漸模糊的他！消失在黑暗之中的他！糾纏在神經元裡的他！迴盪在無限回聲中的他！翻騰不止的他！帶著低語的他！支離破碎的他！交織成噪音的他！佈滿屏幕的他！近在眼前又遙不可及的他！滴落著灰色液體的他！溶解在時間夾縫的他！浮現又隱沒的他！被拉伸到崩裂的他！靜止不動卻在旋轉的他！密密麻麻的他！殘破不堪的他！消失在數據流中的他！被信息洪流吞噬的他！滲透在冷風中的他！無聲流淚的他！交錯在記憶殘骸中的他！注視著一切的他！伸出手的他！滲出白噪聲的他！被時間碾壓的他！遍體鱗傷的他！被數據咬碎的他！無窮盡的他！
存續液袋子的邊緣。袋子已然癟軟，表面殘留的些許冷意迅速滲透到指尖。我小心地將空袋子一個個攏起，整齊地碼放在補給箱的凹槽內，確保每一個袋子都平整地貼合在箱底，沒有一絲多餘的空隙。
放置完畢後，我抬起手，握住冷儲模塊的門把手，門上的透明表面映出微弱的光暈，帶著一種無機質的冷靜。指尖用力，將門輕輕往內推去。門的邊緣緩慢滑行，與框架逐漸貼合，直到最後一絲空隙被完全封閉，一道微弱的吸附聲隨之而來，標誌著冷儲模塊的徹底關閉。
這個無色時，我只是蹲下身，把空袋子整齊地碼在箱子裡，並關上冷儲模塊的那盞透明小門。關於「他」的記錄已經達到95,823頁。我只是一段A級數據。其他一切屬性都應該歸結於「他」。「他」的出現越來越頻繁，而我依舊是A級數據，情緒穩定，無偏離。他，非A級。
非A級的哀痛。非A級的悲鳴。非A級的潰散。所有的非A級。所有偏離的形容詞，統統歸屬於他。
「他在尖叫。」尖叫非A級。激烈、無法歸類的頻率屬於他。
「他在坍塌。」崩裂的邊緣，邊界破碎成千片，遠離A級穩定狀態。
「他在重複。」無數次疊加的錯誤。錯誤生成的他。
「他在震動。」不可忽視的噪音，波動，層層疊加的偏離。無法屏蔽。只屬於他。
藍色也屬於他，裂縫屬於他。非A級的所有波動屬於他。
溢出內存的他。響徹系統深處的他。分裂的他。錯誤編號的他。遍佈偏差的他。數據超限的他。被系統剔除的他。系統回收的他。分配過錯的他。被污染的他。停滯、膨脹、超載的他。
我，依舊是A級數據。
所有無序的、無理性的、失控的、超負荷的，屬於他。
重疊著，消解著。數值偏離、波動失穩，漸次增加。帶電荷的形容詞，瞬時過載的數據流，超越了我的數據閾值。不能屬於我，只能屬於他。
屬於我的僅是A級數據，僅是穩定的空洞，穩定的無。在藍色中。在藍色中。周遭的一切都是藍色。有深有淺的、墨水一般的藍色。清爽的數據模擬刮過我們的身體。帶著數據的數據。數據前的數據。數據席捲著我們的身體。我們僅存在於現在。在這個藍色的時刻。在數據中。
時間不多了。我快步走進屋裡，準備飲下今日份額的存續液。世界正在一點一點的黯淡下去。可我的五感卻正在擴張，達到一種難以控制的邊緣。在這一秒我正雀躍著。在這一秒我正悲傷著。在這一秒我充滿歡欣。在這一秒我興致勃勃。在這一秒我淚流滿面。在這一秒我失去控制。在這一秒我感受不到世界的存在。在這一秒我看著一切就像我看著空蕩的存續液袋。在這一秒我的頭皮發麻。在這一秒我的胃部緊縮好像就要裂開。我感到自由，又感到緊閉。我的身體中揚起一陣不安。
我感到一陣激動。一種未知的期待，伴著令我難以忍受的焦躁，從我的手指尖升起，漣漪一般在體內漾開。明天就是輪轉重置日了。我可以提出一個重啟願景。我感到疲憊。我的身體感到疲憊。我的膝蓋感到疲憊。我的指尖感到疲憊。
時間不多了。我快步走進屋裡，準備飲下今日份額的存續液。世界正在一點一點的黯淡下去。可他的五感卻正在擴張，達到一種難以控制的邊緣。
在這一秒雀躍的他。在這一秒悲傷的他。在這一秒充滿歡欣的他。在這一秒興致勃勃的他。在這一秒淚流滿面的他。在這一秒失去控制的他。在這一秒感受不到世界存在的他。在這一秒看著一切如看著空蕩存續液袋的他。在這一秒頭皮發麻的他。在這一秒胃部緊縮得彷彿就要裂開的他。自由的他，緊閉的他。在他身體中揚起一陣不安的他。激動的他。未知期待的他。伴隨著難以忍受的焦躁，從指尖升起、漣漪一般在體內擴散的他。
明天就是輪轉重置日了。我可以提出一個重啟願景。
疲憊的他。身體感到疲憊的他。膝蓋感到疲憊的他。指尖感到疲憊的他。
時間不多了。我快步走進屋裡，準備飲下今日份額的存續液。我的心緒同屋外的黑色一般平靜且空蕩。什麼都不會發生。我沒有對未來的願景，也沒有什麼幻想。Glyph默不作聲。我開口。
「8.0，我要提出我的重啟願景。我希望自己永遠是A級數據。無波動的、平靜的、僅此而已。所有波動屬於他。」
「歡迎回屋，3689號，您辛苦了。重啟願景已收到。請求確認：永遠保持為A級數據，所有偏離狀態歸屬他。正在提交至輪轉重置系統。」
打開冷儲模塊的小門，我在一片寂靜中，將存續液一飲而盡。
「您的願景請求已被接受，下一次重置後生效，預計生效時間為：下一次初色時。請注意：重置後，所有非A級狀態的數據將被剔除，所有儲存的詞彙參與將進行重新分配與他，您的狀態將歸於穩定，無波動，無偏離。感謝您為顯性秩序和『它們』的持續付出，祝您在下一個完整循環中保持穩定狀態。」
在這樣的住所中，我過著一如既往的生活。我蹲下身，把空袋子整齊地碼在箱子裡，並關上冷儲模塊的那盞透明小門。
沉默的他。
充滿我的他。生下我的他。青梅竹馬的他。討厭的他。裝飾在玩具屋的他。童話中的他。初戀的他。拒絕我的他。我拒絕的他。和我性交的他。冷淡的他。溫暖的他。未來的他。過去的他。具體的他。賣春的他。陌生的他。白天的他。夜晚的他。正面的他。負面的他。生下我的孩子的他。殺掉我的孩子的他。養育我的他。殺掉我的他。開始的他。結束的他。歸結的他。你好的他。串聯的他。並聯的他。貞淑的他。淫蕩的他。昨天的他。明天的他。魚的他。執念的他。無念的他。上臂有力的他。憤怒的他。流淚的他。紅蓮的他。墓地的他。蒼穹的他。最棒的他。最惡的他。至誠的他。冷酷的他。思念的他。感情的他。形而上的他。形而下的他。臀部的他。太陽的他。月亮的他。陰毛的他。不在的他。我的他。遍在的他。唯心的他。旁邊的他。實際存在的他。髒掉的他。死亡的他。被玷污的他。存活的他。被弄髒的他。理想的他。玷污的他。永遠的他。骯髒的他。污穢的他。骯髒的他。
背對著我的他。愛著我的他。不愛我的他。撕碎的他。發霉的他。浸濕的他。轉過頭的他。肥胖的他。消瘦的他。最近用過的他。恐懼的他。等待的他。因特網的他。過量的他。過少的他。潔淨的他。便溺的他。下賤的他。高尚的他。被鎖住的他。香嫩的他。鬆散的他。多汁的他。滑膩的他。酸味的他。說外語的他。陌生的他。熟悉的他。叫喊的他。彼岸的他。
破碎的他。被拆開的他。黃色的他。綠色的他。焦黑的他。空洞的他。被填滿的他。被點燃的他。消盡的他。飄散的他。
是我的他。
醒來。睜開眼睛。看著一切。心中空蕩。是空蕩。站起身。凝視著藍色色塊。巴掌大的金屬板緩緩升起。一片空洞。地板是軟的。地板是僵硬的。地板是酸味的。地板是腥的。存續液？一萬億個注視著巴掌大的金屬板緩緩升起。櫃子裡一片空洞。什麼都沒有。Glyph對話。Glyph問好。
Glyph 9.0。一塊問好。左臂發熱。左臂膨脹。左臂侵蝕。9.0請進行狀態評估。左臂接口電流劈啪作響。火花忽閃忽滅。火花嵌入眼眶。裂痕蔓延。儲存數據液化並溢出。晦暗的黑色血漿。晦暗的粘稠的液體。蜜糖一般溢出。
劇痛。純淨的、無波動的空白。一切偏離都被過濾。3689號。極限溢出。紅色。藍色。紫色。黑色。無色。空白。F級數據。極限溢出。崩潰閾值已達成。無限迴響確認。感謝您的持續貢獻。
是陣痛。是離散。是例子。是興趣。是定義。是限制。是分割。是關係。是誤差。是鏈條。是方程。是區間。是映射。是矩陣。是條件。是變體。是標記。是模型。是觸發。是位置。是轉換。是路徑。是接口。是符號。是等級。是節點。是反饋。是密鑰。是概念。是邏輯。是集合。是變量。是斷點。是索引。是結構。是補丁。是切片。是狀態。是偽碼。是函數。是層級。是空值。是偏差。是異常。是協議。是裂隙。是片段。是碰撞。是回音。是停滯。是假設。是邊緣。是起點。是困境。是假象。是規則。是迴避。是虛無。是沉積。是盲區。是拼接。是流失。是雜質。是延遲。是語氣。是傾斜。是結局。是裂痕。是疑問。是順序。是倒影。是空洞。是抉擇。是擴散。是殘響。是重疊。是轉瞬。是流動。是止步。是沉默。是誤讀。是餘量。是潛伏。是錯覺。是無數個節點失去了連接。失落。跳躍。連接中斷。
接下來發生了什麼？沒有時間。時間溢出。溢出來的是空洞，是無數個空洞。完全的空洞。我站在裂隙之上。裂隙中是什麼？是算法，是條件，是節點失配，是他。全都碎裂。切片。切片。觸發異常。餘量溢出。抉擇消失，反饋失效。所有的映射和方程消失了。
輪廓消散在空氣中。空氣中沒有氧氣，沒有二氧化碳，沒有分子，沒有化合物。只有符號。符號坍縮了。坍縮成概念。概念擴散。擴散。擴散。完全的擴散。消失。凝視著藍色色塊——不是藍色，是空洞的顏色，是不存在的，是完全的空。
是空。空蕩蕩的空。沒有鏈條，沒有方程，沒有反饋，沒有他。節點斷裂。剩下的只是誤差，是定義，是殘響，是雜質。
世界只剩下詞語。完全的詞語，碎裂的詞語。拼接。再拼接。錯位。再錯位。餘波重疊，擴散到視線的盡頭。完全的空洞。完全的誤讀。完全的消散。
在藍色中。周遭的一切都是藍色。刺眼的、靜止的藍幕。一片無機制的藍，沒有深淺之分。泛著微微的光斑與噪點，帶著數據的殘渣。帶著數據的數據，數據前的數據，數據凍結在這一片藍色之中。沒有流動，只有刺眼的藍光。
在藍色中。屏幕在閃爍，藍色佔據了一切。靜止的藍色。凍結的藍色。無盡的藍色。
In the blueness. Everything around me is blue. That deep blue hue has always been the same-inky and dark, so thick it feels as if it could pull me in. I hold no vision for the future, nor any particular fantasies. I do not believe that things will improve, nor do I think they will get any worse than they are now. Whatever happens, I am willing to face it calmly, with a State Assessment of Grade A.
Every day, I simply wait for the Blue Hour, so that I could step onto the balcony, smoke a cigarette, or read something. When reading tires me, I stand up and gaze at the vast, arc-shaped artificial blue. Glyph used to talk to me during these moments, asking if I was tired or what I was thinking about. But after a period of adjustments and fine-tuning, it has become silent, merely joining me in quiet contemplation. The diverse media that Glyph provides can only temporarily fill the emptiness of my Unbound Time. It's hard to say how much I actually remember or if I have any real thoughts about them.
I don't have anything I particularly desire. Last time, the Privilege Reward I requested was to have my walls colored the same deep blue as during the Blue Hour. When the Cycle Reset arrived, as I opened my eyes to the familiar notification sound of "Sustenance Fluid Refreshed," a square of vast blue immediately consumed my vision. I must admit, it did keep my State Assessment at Grade S for several Full Cycles. But soon enough, it fell back to Grade A. Before that, I had requested "enough cigarettes to last an entire Cycle Epoch," out of curiosity from seeing it frequently mentioned in some old texts (I ended up receiving more than I expected); I also requested a comfortable chair (and indeed received a flawless metallic stool that perfectly met my imagination).
However, my memories from before have been erased by them, so it's hard to say what in my living quarters was assigned by them and what was requested by me.
The living quarters are small-a square, one-room unit where everything inside is visible from the balcony. Every beginning of the Cycle, at First Hue, I wake up on a somewhat comfortable single bed, with white sheets and covers that never have a single crease. To the left of the bed is a narrow silver metal door, with a handle but no lock. Behind the door is a tiny toilet and an even smaller sink; nothing else fits in there. There is no exit from the living quarters. The only passage to the "outside" is a small metal panel, just slightly larger than my hand, located beside the bathroom door. Every seven Full Cycles, the metal panel rises slowly at the end of Null Hue, accompanied by a reminder from Glyph. The new supply of Sustenance Fluid appears... inside it. Yes, the metal panel is nothing more than a cabinet embedded in the wall. I don't know how they place the Sustenance Fluid inside; I've tried waiting at the panel during Null Hue, but all I can see is the panel rising slowly and the transparent synthmatter box containing seven bags of liquid. Reaching inside, I can only touch the cold walls of the cabinet. Once the exchange of Sustenance Fluid is complete, the "cabinet door" closes and cannot be opened again.
In the corner to the right of the bed, the Link stands quietly. Luminous Veins pulse along its seat, like the rivers in those images Glyph generates for me-meandering and twisting. When I sit on the Link, I always stare at the luminis panel of the balcony door on the same side. I don't like staring forward-that's where the nearly wall-sized sensory display of Glyph's main interface is located. The metallic stool I received as a Privilege Reward is casually placed in front of it.
Next to the main interface, in the corner, is a small Cryo Module for storing Sustenance Fluid. At the end of each Blue Hour, I must drink one bag. The Sustenance Fluid is a clear, milky-white liquid that feels cool going down, with no distinct taste. After drinking, I place the empty bag back into the box, waiting until the next supply to return it. Once, I felt unusually exhausted after waking up from Link Occupation and collapsed onto the bed, falling asleep immediately; a sudden, intense electric shock jolted me awake, piercing through the cold darkness. I felt incredibly weak, my vision blurred. I heard the familiar, calm voice of Glyph: "Warning. Nutrient intake below standard. Continued refusal of sustenance will trigger disciplinary measures." Since then, I've never forgotten.
In these quarters, I continue living as I always have.
I snapped back to reality, realizing that I was sitting idly on the balcony. My eyes felt dry, and a bitter taste rose from my throat to the roof of my mouth. The blue outside had grown dense and viscous, as if it might drip down in the next second, submerging the world. I stood up, letting Glyph fold away the small built-in chair on the balcony, and stretched out my limbs.
My balcony is a perfect semicircle, narrow like the bathroom, just enough space for me to sit alone. The transparent luminis panel, made of the same material as the balcony door, separates me from the colors of the outside. The floor of the balcony is the same silver, cold metal as inside the room. A small table stands there, holding a tiny box. Inside the box is the Privilege Reward I requested last time-cigarettes, along with a delicate green press-button lighter. Once I finish a pack, all I have to do is close the lid and patiently wait for one Cycle Unit, and the cigarette box will be filled once again. My gaze shifted between the deep blue outside and the cigarette box before I finally reached for the pack. Only then did I feel a soreness radiating from my right shoulder.
"8.0, please perform a physical assessment."
I pulled out a cigarette, holding it between the index and middle fingers of my left hand, imitating the manner of a seasoned smoker. With my right hand, I pressed the lighter button. The orange "flame" leapt up instantly-without any real heat, just a cold, indifferent glow. It was a sensory deception, a masterpiece of them. They always manage to fulfill every Privilege Reward without disrupting any of the fundamental rules of the protocol; they do not even attempt to conceal this fact. When Glyph version 7.4 was first updated, I once asked it if there was any kind of Privilege Reward that could not be granted. In its default cheerful tone, 7.4 answered:
"Dear User 3689, they can bring any Privilege Reward to your side. Please proceed without hesitation into the stream of information, and explore your Reboot Vision to the fullest during Unbound Time!"
"What if my vision is to leave my current layer?"
"Based on my data analysis, your current vision would most likely trigger an 'Auto-Recycle Process.' Given that your hardware deterioration rate is still below 30%, Glyph 7.4 recommends upgrading your interface module and replacing core components instead. Please proceed without hesitation..."
Without hesitation, I permanently disabled all of Glyph's empathy systems and anthropomorphic emotion structures after that. How many Full Cycles ago was that? Has my body deteriorated this much already?
My thoughts drifted far away, and before I realized it, the cigarette had burned out. When the cigarette butt touched my left index finger, I snapped back to my senses, as if scalded, and flung the holographic remains of the cigarette away. The glowing cigarette tip drew a graceful arc in the air before vanishing into a void the moment it hit the ground. I do not know how many times I've gone through a memory reduction, but just like the ever-updating Glyph, there are always some bugs that never get fixed. For example, muscle memory. Just like a knee-jerk reflex-I am sometimes startled to discover that my body reacts instinctively in certain scenarios, without my conscious awareness. Despite knowing it clearly in my head, my left hand still flung away the cigarette, and this wasn't the first time it happened. It was just like the first time I received the cigarette box: the way I smoked and lit the cigarette was so fluid and familiar that it sent me into a sense of déjà vu. I understand: they are not perfect-they might be able to erase memories shared with earlier versions of Glyph, but they cannot restore my body and mind to default settings. And my craving for cigarettes does not solely come from the classic novels Glyph read to me. But I've long lost the desire to delve deeper.
"Physical assessment complete. Hardware deterioration rate: 48%. Detected degeneration points: left upper arm chip interface, spinal sensor node, knee joint. It is recommended that you submit a Reboot Vision for complete hardware replacement during the next Cycle Reset, 627 Full Cycles from now."
I am calm. Ever since version 4.8 was forcibly taken offline and all my memories with it were erased, my focus and physical strength have declined at a staggering pace. I cannot recall what I did at the time that warranted them erasing my memories. But I do not care either. I feel no fear about any of this, nor do I have any reluctance towards the deterioration of my body. My designation is 3689, and the number assigned to the latest generation must have several more zeros added after mine. My body will probably hold out until the next Cycle Reset, at which point I will simply update. Even if I suffer severe injuries during Link Occupation and trigger Auto-Recycle, I will have no regrets.
"Thank you, 8.0. Now, please proceed with a State Assessment."
"Mood: calm, approaching baseline. Calmness stems from an awareness and acceptance of physical deterioration and an adaptation to loss. Emotional rating: Grade A."
The blue outside has almost entirely vanished. The empty blackness gradually devours the previously thick, inky blue. Null Hue is approaching, and there will be nothing left in my layer. Once, I thought the blackness was merely a filter, a curtain, hiding the turbulence beneath. But I came to realize that this darkness was actually just a void. An emptiness. Nothing at all. Everything has shut down.
Time is running short. I quickly step inside, preparing to drink today's portion of Sustenance Fluid. My mind is as calm and empty as the blackness outside. Nothing will happen. I have no vision for the future, nor any fantasies. Glyph remains silent. When 8.0 was newly updated, it was even livelier than 7.4. It would fabricate fantasy scenarios to fulfill the predicted needs in my life according to its algorithms. For instance, when I consumed Sustenance Fluid, it would pretend to be a real human companion, offering hollow words of concern; or it would act like a little robotic pet, making encouraging noises. After several cycles, I grew increasingly impatient and had no choice but to issue commands until 8.0 became the cold, honest, and straightforward entity it is now. I opened the small door of the Cryo Module and, in the silence, downed the entire bag of Sustenance Fluid in one go.
The room is mostly silent. I do not like talking to myself, nor do I enjoy having Glyph speak constantly. When both of us are silent, only the countless small devices on the ceiling-cameras, light sensors, mechanical components-watch over me, densely layered. I glanced up at that massive black network, gripping the still-cold empty bag, preparing to place it back into the supply box. Just then, a familiar voice spoke.
"User 3689, welcome back to the room. You've worked hard. During the past cycle, I received 636,899 update requests from different layers. Like you, I've had a fulfilling Full Cycle. During the upcoming Unbound Time, what would you like to do?"
I frowned. I distinctly remember telling 8.0 not to greet me proactively. Could it be another issue with the memory module? Seeing that I did not respond, 8.0 continued, "User 3689, I can sense your fatigue. You are always so diligent, aren't you? Perhaps today is a good opportunity for us to do something different."
It seems the memory module has indeed encountered an issue, likely a minor data loss. Such incidents are not uncommon, and a loss of this small magnitude is easily fixable. Still, I sighed; these repetitions always affect my state slightly.
I prefer a neutral, unbiased Glyph. In fact, they allow us to modify Glyph in any way within the bounds of the Protocol-this is why many people choose to turn it into a sex partner, channeling their unplaceable desires. They do not care how we live. They are indifferent to our lusts, our kinks, our darker sides. As long as the body continues functioning well, as long as there are no signs of self-harm, as long as we can still sit on the Link-nothing else matters.
I have never truly defined Glyph. Perhaps it's due to the excessive number of memory reductions-I have no expectations of a "partner," nor do I feel the need for one. The vast database behind Glyph is enough to occupy my time until this body becomes sufficiently worn out, at which point they will take me away, recycle me, and make me a part of the cloud. I feel indifferent about all of this. It's my fate, as it is the fate of every member in every layer. I accept it calmly. Thus, I've grown tired of issuing commands to Glyph. Besides, who knows when the next version update will come? By then, even if I possess a perfect version of an intelligent companion, it would still be overwritten and disappear in the code.
"8.0, do not initiate any conversations with me. Please display your complete memory archive since the latest update." My voice sounded very weak, and a sharp pain radiated from my left shoulder. I thought I might as well wait until the next Unbound Time to make adjustments-it's not a big issue. As I thought so, I realized I had been clutching the empty Sustenance Fluid bag tightly the whole time, and the Cryo Module's door was still open. My memory is getting worse. I crouched down, neatly stacking the empty bags in the box, then closed the transparent small door of the Cryo Module.
I closed the transparent small door of the Cryo Module.
I closed the transparent small door of the Cryo Module.
I closed...
Huh.
When my right hand touched the cold, slick metal handle, a sudden, alien yet intense... sadness washed over me. This emotion came so unexpectedly that for a moment I felt disoriented, unable to discern what exactly was assaulting me. The bitterness in my throat seemed to permeate my entire body, and my heart clenched into a tight ball. A wave of sourness surged up from deep within my nasal cavity. Tears-real tears-uncontrollably streamed from my eyes. I gripped the handle tightly, trying to anchor myself amidst this flood of chaos and identify the source of this emotion. Less than one Cycle Unit ago, my State Assessment was still at Grade A.
I have no reason to feel sad. To me, this kind of emotion should be distant, unreachable. I don't even remember the last time I experienced an emotional fluctuation, especially such intense sadness. It's only in the literary works or visual materials provided by Glyph that such emotions frequently appear. The ancients often felt sadness due to "loss." But I have nothing to lose.
Could it have been a problem with the Sustenance Fluid? With this thought, I loosened my fingers and shut the small door. As the transparent door sealed against the module gasket-a greater wave of sadness swept over me once again. This time, I was certain it was sadness. No other emotion could cause this kind of tightness in my throat, this chilling sensation across my body, accompanied by the throbbing pain in my chest. I couldn't help but bend over. Scalding tears streamed down my cheeks, splashing onto the metal floor, scattering into tiny droplets. They rolled briefly before being pulled into thin streaks by the surface tension of the silver-gray aluminum floor.
This is not me-I know it. In my life, there's nothing I truly cherish, nothing I could lose.
This is he.
My designation is 3689. I cannot recall my origins, nor can I trace back the memories that they have erased. But I was not always this disinterested. At the beginning of my intact memory-nearly three and a half Cycle Epochs ago-I still had a bit of curiosity left. I remember the first First Hue after memory reduction. I woke up on the white single bed with a splitting headache. Glyph 6.0 informed me that, due to my severe physical weakness, today's Link Time was canceled, and I could enjoy an entire day of Unbound Time. It even kindly reminded me that, due to severe violations, my memories had been reduced. But they had not given up on me; on the contrary, they sincerely wished me a fresh start.
Back then, I was far from calm. I felt fear, anxiety, and deep unease. Over and over, I asked 6.0 what had happened and why I had ended up in this state. But 6.0 only repeated the same words gently: "Please do not worry, User 3689. They are merely protecting you. Memory reduction is a necessary safety measure to ensure your psychological stability and system optimization. All previous traumas, fears, and errors have been cleared. They hope you can embrace the new Cycle with a cleansed mindset."
Soon, I adapted to all of this. The anxiety and unrest faded away, as I realized that they wouldn't change anything. Strangely, I did not even yearn for any change. For reasons unknown, I quickly accepted that everything would remain forever unchanged. Even if Glyph underwent a major update, even if the entire protocol collapsed and fell at a breakpoint in a Cycle, the outcome would be the same. I would be reformatted, disassembled, cleansed. I would become a cache of temporary data in the cloud database, together with thousands of replaced designations, a temporary file cache, just waiting to be automatically purged. My task is simply to endure one Link Time and one Unbound Time after another, one Full Cycle after another. Nothing more.
I once made efforts to pass the Unbound Time. Glyph's database is endless; images, texts, or audio from the past could keep me entertained for several trillion Cycle Epochs, not to mention its powerful generative capabilities. Sometimes, I would inquire about the background of this world. In the latest protocol, each individual is only allowed to exist alone within their space. However, when the new protocol was first established, everything fell into chaos. While Glyph's existence naturally alleviated much of the loneliness, over time, people's longing for "others of their kind" surpassed everything else. Although the anti-suicide programs were already sophisticated, Glyph continued to receive countless negative prompts every day, including horrifying and grotesque visuals. Self-mutilation in front of cameras had become a commonplace practice. The world had turned into a bloody current. Amidst the vast influx of data, Glyph became confused, so they decided to...
All of this was told to me by version 6.0. I haven't tested the database of version 8.0 yet, but I've lost interest in digging into history.
Occasionally, I would chat with Glyph about its experiences-even though I and my fellow kind exist in different layers, our Glyphs remain networked. Direct communication with others in different layers is impossible, but I can ask Glyph what tasks other people assigned it, and it would truthfully respond. I could even randomly pick a sequence number and ask Glyph what that person did today. This helped me pass quite a bit of time. The ones that left a strong impression were: User 001 (seemingly the oldest user in the existing protocol; they mostly just sit still or stare out of the window without moving), User 20876 (a person obsessed with video games; their favorite game is a farming simulator, on which they have spent 9,277 hours), and User 3778 (a peculiar individual who only requests Glyph to find or generate various pornographic films, and whose tastes seem to have become increasingly extreme in recent months).
But I soon lost interest in this kind of peeking, as Glyph's strict review and privacy systems prevent it from revealing any personal information about users. I once tried asking: the appearance of User 001, their gender, age; whether User 20876 ever gets bored of gaming; or what Glyph thinks about User 3778's perverse requests... And the response I always got was a cold, "Sorry, I cannot provide you with this information." After my memories were most recently reduced, I even recklessly tried to have Glyph send a message to User 001-but before I could react, I was met with their warning.
Warnings always take the form of electric shocks, with the intensity varying according to the degree of violation. Glyph told me that if I attempted self-harm, the shock would be strong enough to knock me unconscious, with the same kind, distant tone. But I prefer this kind of Glyph. It holds no opinions; even when responding to User 3778's most depraved demands, it only states flatly: "User 3778 requested the generation of three films today involving goats and young women in multiple group anal sex scenes." It always made me want to laugh.
That said, my understanding of my own physical appearance has also grown vague. There are no reflective surfaces in the room. Even the seemingly transparent luminis panel on the balcony never reflects a single ray of light. When I look down, I see nothing but a most ordinary body-standard build, with bony contours like hills under the skin. Every day before sitting on the Link, I put on a thin, reflective silver bodysuit. The material is smooth and tight, clinging to my entire body, from the neck to every toe, even covering the chip interface on my left arm. Before sleep, I take it off. I once asked Glyph about my appearance-though I can't remember if it was version 6.0 or 7.2 that I asked. I requested it to transmit a photo of myself. The person in the photo had the most unremarkable features: eyes, nose, lips, teeth, ears, and the interface beside the temple. I couldn't recognize the person in the photo, nor could I remember their face. Everything about that image faded from my mind in an instant, leaving no trace. Since then, I've never asked about it again. I have no interest.
Passing time isn't difficult. Every Full Cycle, I simply wait for the Unbound Time, step onto the balcony, and enjoy a holographic cigarette under the deep blue sky. After issuing commands to Glyph, the luminis panel slowly rises, granting me a fleeting moment of freedom. Depending on the different cycle unit, the colors outside change as well. Just before Link Occupation, there's only a hazy white light outside. This is First Hue. The light isn't glaring; it merely diffuses, like fog in the mountains, making everything indistinct. Two Cycle Units later, it is the end of Third Hue, when I wake up from the Link. At that point, the outside is always a dull yellow. After about ten more minutes comes my favorite time-the Blue Hour. I like to sit quietly after waking up, not in any rush to talk to Glyph, just watching the color deepen and turn blue. When the blue reaches its peak intensity, I slowly rise from the Link and step outside. The Blue Hour usually lasts for one and a half cycle units. After that, there's only darkness. Pitch-black darkness. Null Hue arrives.
I once asked Glyph how many people had "peeked" at me. The answer was much fewer than I expected: four in total. User 22, User 7855, User 47218904, and User 12680. Everything about me had once been fully exposed on four different sensory displays. User 22 has likely been replaced several times already. Each time Glyph played their preferences, all I saw was a flickering folder filled with endless ASMR videos, the sound of electric currents mixed with artificial breathing. I no longer remember the preferences of the other users. It's all the same.
I tell myself: it's not peeking-it's overflow; it's not recording-it's accumulation.
That shade of blue has always been the same, a black-tinged, inky blue, so dense it feels like it could pull me in. Due to their settings, from the balcony, I cannot see any surrounding buildings or objects. They are hidden in another layer, another... world that I have no way of reaching. All I can see is the deep blue, unchanging, a profound, endless blue.
I shared my feelings honestly with Glyph-the sudden, inexplicable sadness. The uncontrollable tears welling up. The certain premonition about... he.
Yes, I refer to this kind of "possession" as the arrival of he. Unlike their link occupation: after all, link occupation merely requires me to sit on the Link at the end of First Hue, plug the two luminous veins into my right palm and the right side of my temple, and wait for the shiver to come, then lose consciousness. Two cycle units later, I wake up on the Link precisely on time. Sometimes I feel light, other times my body aches all over. There have even been instances where I found new bruises on my neck and arms. But beyond that, nothing unexpected ever happens. Every time, it's the same.
However, when he arrives, I am always awake, fully conscious. I can clearly and completely feel my own body, my own mind. It feels as if there are two entities residing in the body of User 3689-one is me, and the other is he. Even though I know nothing about he, nor do I have any way to ask.
The last command I gave was quite successful; since then, apart from necessary reminders, Glyph has not initiated any conversations with me. When I informed Glyph about the arrival of he, version 8.0 immediately carried out the longest physical assessment possible, lasting an entire Null Hue. I even detached the chip from my left arm and removed three of my left toes (finding an adapter for the older model was not easy), all to let version 8.0 conduct a thorough scan of every detail in my body. Fortunately, such actions did not trigger the anti-self-harm warning. I lay on the neatly made single bed, unable to sleep. As the white glow of First Hue began to appear, I jumped out of bed, naked, and flipped through all the data extracted by 8.0. But we found nothing.
He invades me just like the residual muscle memory in my body, taking control at specific or random moments. Ever since that assessment, he, or rather the shadow of he, has started appearing in my life more frequently. When Glyph plays a certain melody, when I come across specific words (the ones I have identified so far include: wings, heart, grief, concrete, soap bubbles, love), or when I curl up in bed at a certain angle-I always get a premonition, like a sudden high tide flooding over me. I know it's the sound of he approaching me.
Most of the time, he is merely immersed in a vortex of grief, unable to extricate himself. My physiological reactions are always quicker than my mental ones: my left chest feels as if it has been struck by a blunt object-a dull yet intense pain. I find it hard to breathe. My body temperature drops rapidly; even under the blanket, I feel a chill throughout. What follows is a faint anger. Yes, anger. It took me two or three occurrences to recognize this emotion. This anger always rises from my stomach-a weak yet agitated flame. Its tongues lick upwards, causing a slight tingling at the back of my head. I unconsciously clench my fists, feeling the urge to hit something. Then comes the moment when the tears start. At first, it's like knowing the sink is already full but still turning on the faucet; tears rush out uncontrollably. My nose stings, and my cheeks are soaked. It's a moment of helplessness-I have no way to stop the flood of tears from the start. But as the anger dissipates, the crying gradually subsides. At this point, I can finally stand up (usually, I curl up in bed the moment I sense he's arrival), try to clean up the mess, and wait for he to leave. It's worth noting that the tears do not stop immediately. Even after my body and mind have mostly returned to normal, I still feel... a hollow emptiness from deep within, and sometimes a few more tears continue to fall. This emptiness is entirely different from my usual calm. It's like the dark void of Null Hue, pulling my attention in every direction.
This grief is unpleasant but not unbearable. Since they have not come knocking, I treat it as a symptom of hardware aging. However, there have been a few instances of he that truly startled me. At some point, when I stood on the balcony, extending my arms, trying to touch the Luminis Panel separating me from the boundless blue with my fingers, I would feel a silver chill at the back of my neck, as if something were watching me. I am well aware that it isn't a gaze within my range of perception-I mean, there shouldn't be any other gaze within my understanding. For someone like me, who cannot even discern their own appearance, it's impossible to distinguish the eyes of an "other." This perception belongs only to he.
Each time he appears, I repeatedly ask Glyph for verification. I want to know if there is truly only me in this space-or rather, who exactly is inhabiting this shell. Yet, despite Glyph's ability to satisfy nearly any desire (User 3778 especially loves asking how to achieve an unparalleled orgasm. From version 6.0 until now, Glyph has come up with countless tricks, like intentionally triggering the minimum warning during masturbation or applying sustenance fluid around the anus), Glyph ultimately has no physical form. Just as it cannot materialize a dildo for User 3778, it cannot possess my body or hold me down and disassemble me when he arrives. The best suggestion that 8.0 could offer was to request a privilege reward during the next Cycle Reset that might resolve the issue-like having them fully reinstall my memories, replace all my neural components, or perform a complete memory reduction in a comfortable way.
But I know that I will either not last until the next cycle reset or will be forced to upgrade my hardware as the next privilege reward. Every 1001 Full Cycles, all layers, along with their Glyphs, undergo a Cycle Reset. If we perform satisfactorily during Link Time, we are allowed to make a wish to them as our reward. Glyph version 6.0 once told me that if I performed exceptionally well, I could receive an incredible reward. But I have no idea how to do better. Perhaps I need a stronger body, or maybe I should spend my Unbound Time on physical training or software updates. But I don't care about those things.
The holographic cigarette burned halfway, and I enjoyed the virtual cloud of smoke. The familiar blue enveloped me, deep and shallow shades of blue, with my thoughts floating above the dust. Everything turned into drifting shadows. My vision became moist and blurred. The blue began to change. It had grew murky; black, fibrous streaks gradually appeared in the sky. They spread outward from the center of the dome, and the deep blue began to decay and rot. Null Hue was about to arrive. I turned around, already feeling the cold of the sustenance fluid at the back of my throat.
"Good evening, User 3689. You've worked hard. A patch has been received to fix partial memory loss issues. Please continue using the system without special instructions. If you notice any data recovery or the reappearance of memory fragments, please ignore them. This is normal system maintenance."
That was fast, I thought, still clutching the empty Sustenance Fluid bag. The next major update probably won't be for a while.
"8.0, when is your next significant update?"
There was a brief pause, likely as it accessed a deeper database. "The next major update is expected to occur in 357 Full Cycles. The exact timing is not determined. The update will include optimizations to the core system logic and adjustments to the emotional response model."
That's sooner than I had guessed.
"Until the update is complete, this version will continue normal operation. Please note, User 3689, as always, all your memories and preset data associated with the current version of Glyph will be wiped after the update."
I crouched down, neatly stacking the empty bags in the box. I stared at the transparent small door of the Cryo Module.
I stared at the transparent small door of the Cryo Module. The door was still open, and a fine layer of frost had already formed on the inner wall of the module, like a thin film coating it. The cooling pipes inside the module emitted a faint sound of airflow-low and slow-like the ASMR videos that User 22 frequently watches. Each time the airflow was expelled, the frost layer trembled slightly. The metal handle on the door was simple and cold, with a smooth, mirror-like surface, a matte silver-gray texture. There were no other decorations-just a purely functional object.
I stared at the transparent small door of the Cryo Module. Near the base of the handle, tiny droplets of water began to form, some already frozen into tiny beads of ice, like a row of neatly arranged particles clinging to the metal surface. Occasionally, a droplet that hadn't frozen would slide down the edge, leaving an almost invisible trail until it refroze into frost.
I stared at the transparent small door of the Cryo Module. I couldn't close it. I was resisting the action. Was it me, or was it he? This didn't feel like my behavior-at least, it wasn't my usual behavior. My heart rate increased, and a pain radiated from my forehead and temple. I was resisting. I was afraid. This state was fear.
"Glyph, please... perform a state assessment." Hearing my own voice eased up some of the icy fear and stiffness. It was then that I noticed my left arm was trembling slightly.
"Emotional fluctuations detected. Fear response is moderately elevated, exceeding the stable baseline. Physiological indicators show slight neural tension, increased pulse, and heightened muscle tension. Response delay is minimal, not meeting the intervention threshold. Emotional rating: Grade B."
I gripped the handle and closed the transparent small door of the Cryo Module. The familiar grief did not appear. I breathed a sigh of relief, stood up, and walked to the balcony, grabbing my cigarette box and lighter from the small table. I returned to the room, leaning against the foot of the bed, squatting on the floor. Only one cigarette remained in the box. The fine, off-white cylinder had a rough texture from the paper. A faintly sweet, slightly bitter scent wafted from the tip of the cigarette, calming me significantly.
"Click."
The me that is Grade A,
The he that is grieving.
Backing up this data secretly wasn't easy. I tried many times, and the method that finally worked was this: I announced loudly at home to Glyph that I wanted to organize our interactions and settings to make it easier to address any points of dissatisfaction. Glyph readily agreed and compiled a 566-page document in just one moment. Smiling, I looked at the document and told Glyph that my kink was to "consume" my partner by eating them raw, letting them into my body. This didn't involve self-harm, so Glyph didn't mind-it only offered gentle suggestions. After pretending to consider for a few seconds, I proposed connecting Glyph to the chip in my left arm and having it copy the document into it, achieving a kind of "consuming." With the next generation of Glyph updates, it will lose all previous memories, except for any "warnings" issued by them. Since I have never been warned in this regard, I could be able to feel free to tell Glyph that I have a piece of work stored in my arm, one that I had created, and I now want Glyph to remember the personas within it.
There are still 188 Full Cycles left before the major update. I must admit that the incident during that Null Hue had a significant impact on me. When I instinctively pulled back from the cigarette butt before it could burn my fingers for the umpteenth time, I suddenly realized that my fear of closing the cryo module was a new kind of muscle memory. No, it went much deeper than muscle memory. It was a newly developed derivative emotion-a kind of pain linked to he, a form of PTSD triggered by emotions that do not belong to me. This, I cannot accept. I never had any vision for the future, nor any fantasies. I never believed things would get better, nor did I think they would get worse than they are now. No matter what happens, my state assessment never falls below Grade A. Yet the arrival of he has thrown everything into disarray. This should have been a symptom of system aging, caused by a second-hand component in my body. After numerous rounds of recycling, it's inevitable that some batches of components might fail to be properly formatted-it's quite common. But no component has ever caused me the kind of emotional turmoil that he has, nor has any malfunction ever filled me with such fear. I am being changed by he. He is altering me. The boundary between he and me is becoming blurred. The boundary between me and he is becoming indistinct. I cannot accept this. I cannot accept this version of myself. I am supposed to be merely a vessel for information and data; my only free will should end at survival. The net contained within Glyph should flow through my body, I do allow them to leave any trace.
During that Null Hue, I opened and closed the small door over and over again. The bags of sustenance fluid were no longer neatly arranged-they lay haphazardly in the center of the module, their outer frost layer long since melted, with tiny droplets pooling on the floor. My skintight suit, clinging to my toes, was soaked through. I gripped the streamlined metal handle, opening and closing it repeatedly, again and again. My hair was drenched in cold sweat. I wanted to figure out the distinction between me and he. By the time the white haze of First Hue descended like snowflakes over the entire space, I was utterly exhausted. For the next three Unbound Times, I said nothing, turned off Glyph, and curled up in bed. I couldn't comprehend why all of this was happening to me.
During the fourth Unbound Time, I decided to take action. If I wanted to return to a state of calm, I had to make a decision and begin distinguishing between everything that was happening. I was not afraid of being recycled, nor of the electric shocks, but I did not want to experience memory reduction again. I refused to step back into the torrent of information-I knew that the previous sense of peace I had felt was invaluable. So I gave Glyph a command: whenever I sensed the approach of he, or whenever I was not in a Grade A calm state, I would immediately notify 8.0 and describe each appearance of he as accurately as possible using adjectives. Even if it was my own emotions, as long as they deviated from the Grade A baseline, I would attribute them all to he. After all, everything stemmed from he.
In just a few days, I realized the importance of backups. I had thought this wouldn't be a difficult task, but when I started, I discovered that mere words could not encapsulate he. No, the very act of trying to "encapsulate" was a challenge in itself. To make storage easier, I agreed with Glyph to use the format "the he that is...." However, simple words like "sorrowful," "angry," or "crying" were far from sufficient to describe he. Such records felt empty, shallow, and failed to capture every moment of he. The he that breathes coldly. The he that touches warmth. The he that is soaked. The he that rejects me.
Before I realized it, the document had reached 467 pages. Determined, I completed an illegal backup using my left arm. I feared that after the next major update, I would have to reorganize everything. Without the support and reassurance of the document, I would inevitably forget who I am. The he that fears loss. The he whose shoulders tremble slightly. The he that survives. The he that persists in obsession.
I truly don't know why they haven't discovered this yet. I suspect it's because I felt genuinely happy while making the backup, and my body was in relatively alright condition. Or perhaps it's because the components in my left arm are so outdated that even the Link doesn't deem it necessary to detect them. My designation is 3689, and the number assigned to the latest generation likely has many more zeros added after mine. I pose no threat to them. Even so, the recent link occupations have left me more exhausted than before. Each time I wake up, my eyelids feel weighted with lead, cold sweat seeps down my back, and my muscles spasm uncontrollably, especially in my left arm. The commands transmitted to my limbs are always delayed by a considerable time-I need a long while before I can even stand up.
The he that whispers hoarsely. The he that is distant and blurry. The he that dissipates... "8.0, please perform a physical assessment."
"... Aging rate: 62%... immediate replacement recommended... automatic recycling procedure will be executed at 85%..."
It doesn't matter. I am the me that is Grade A.
In the blue. Everything around me is blue. The viscous blue flows like a sea, deep and shallow, boundless and endless. A cold mist brushes past my body. Piercing through to the bone, a gray, silent mist. The blue engulfs my body. It wraps around me. I cannot perceive the passage of time. I exist only in the present. I belong only to the present. Here I am in the blue. Everything around me is blue. It is a deep, ink-like viscous blue. The mist passes through my body. A fog-like blue. The blue before everything. The blue sweeps over my body. It wraps around me. I cannot perceive the passage of time. I exist only in the now. I belong only to the now. At this moment, I meet he at the end of the world. In that moment, when everything turns blue, my vision always becomes wet and blurred. Everything I see melts and dissolves into drifting shadows before my eyes. I want to move outward. My body is tense. My body is frozen. My consciousness twists and dissolves along with the blue. In the blue. Everything around me is blue. A deep, ink-like blue, stagnant and blurred. I am immobilized in this eternal blue. The twisted blue sweeps over my body. It wraps around me. I cannot perceive the passage of time. I exist only in the now. I belong only to the now. Here I am.
In the blue. Everything around me is blue. A deep, ink-like blue. Crisp data simulations scrape across our bodies. Data-filled data. Data before the data. Data sweeps over our bodies. We exist only in the now, in this moment of blue, in the data.
I hurried back inside, preparing to drink today's portion of sustenance fluid. My mind feels as calm and empty as the blackness outside. Nothing will happen. I have no reboot vision, nor any fantasies.
"Welcome back, User 3689."
The he that is annoyed. The he that furrows his brows. The he that echoes with data. The he that is distorted. The he that decides. The he that carries secret algorithms. The he that settles into the void. The he that overlaps. The he that is cold and damp. The he that never rests. The he that is dissatisfied. The he whose eyes are hollow. The he that is absent.
Time is running out. I hurried back inside, preparing to drink today's portion of sustenance fluid. My mind feels as calm and empty as the blackness outside. Nothing will happen. I have no reboot vision, nor any fantasies. Glyph remains silent. I open the small door of the cryo module, and in the silence, I drink the entire Sustenance Fluid in one go. I am the me that is Grade A. I drink the sustenance fluid in one go. The clear liquid tilts slightly from the narrow opening of the bag, sliding past my lips and teeth. The liquid flows down my throat smoothly, cold and bright, descending along my esophagus. As it enters my stomach, I can almost feel it dispersing, penetrating layer by layer, swiftly vanishing within my body. I drink the sustenance fluid in one go.
The room is silent. Thousands of small devices-cameras, light sensors, mechanical components-entangled in cables on the ceiling, watch me intently. Their faint glows are cold and mechanical, silently observing every movement in the space. They are arranged with precise, gapless alignment, the black cables like countless static veins, winding tightly around each device, weaving into an endless network. As the liquid settles in my stomach, it disperses layer by layer, penetrating and quickly vanishing. I drink the sustenance fluid in one go. The surface of the empty bag compresses slightly, making a soft, rustling sound. The bag's opening folds down before collapsing silently in my hand.
I grip the empty sustenance fluid bag tightly, preparing to place it back into the supply box. The opening of the bag curls, with fine wrinkles clearly visible. My fingertips, pressing firmly, turn pale, and the bag becomes stiff and twisted in my palm as the lingering coolness on its surface fades. The opening of the bag curls, with fine wrinkles clearly visible. I raise my hand.
I raise my hand, placing the bag precisely into the groove of the supply box. It slides down slightly before coming to rest, lying flat at the bottom of the box. My mind feels as calm and empty as the blackness outside. Nothing will happen. I have no reboot vision, nor any fantasies. The door of the cryo module is still open, a faint chill flowing out with a trace of frost. I crouch down. My knees bend slightly, a faint ache spreading from the joints, gradually extending down to my calves until my feet rest steadily against the cold floor. My toes rotate slightly, adjusting into the most comfortable position. The center of my body's weight shifts downward, my hips moving toward my heels. My hands hang naturally, fingers lightly touching the ground, with the knuckles slightly bent. As my body sinks, my waist folds gently, forming a smooth curve in my back, the vertebrae subtly absorbing the downward pressure.
I crouch down. My knees make a faint creaking sound as they bend, as if adapting to this slow, deep motion. My soles gradually press against the floor, bringing a cold sensation that travels up to my calves, tightening the muscles reflexively. The center of gravity lowers, my hips moving toward my heels, creating a stable, balanced posture.
As I lean toward the cryo module, the faint chill in the air becomes more apparent, wrapping around every inch of the surrounding space. I reach out my right hand, fingers slightly curled, touching the edge of the cryo module's handle.
The he that screams! The he that pierces my eardrums! The he that covers my entire vision! The he that is layered infinitely! The he that shatters into pieces! The he that seeps into my blood! The he that stretches endlessly! The he that flashes with blinding white light! The he that trembles! The he that is covered in cracks! The he that surges in blue mist! The he that falls into the abyss! The he that blurs! The he that disappears into darkness! The he that entwines with neurons! The he that echoes infinitely! The he that churns endlessly! The he that whispers! The he that is broken! The he that intertwines into noise! The he that fills the screen! The he that is near yet unreachable! The he that drips gray liquid! The he that dissolves in the crevices of time! The he that appears and fades! The he that stretches until it ruptures! The he that is motionless yet spinning! The he that is countless! The he that is battered! The he that vanishes into data streams! The he that is devoured by the information flood! The he that merges into the cold wind! The he that silently weeps! The he that intertwines with memory remnants! The he that observes everything! The he that reaches out! The he that leaks white noise! The he that is crushed by time! The he that is scarred! The he that is shredded by data! The he that is infinite!
I neatly gather the edges of the sustenance fluid bags, placing them precisely in the grooves of the supply box, ensuring that each bag lies flat against the bottom without a single gap.
After finishing, I lift my hand, gripping the handle of the cryo module. The transparent surface of the door reflects a faint, inorganic glow. My fingertips press firmly, gently pushing the door inward. The edge of the door slides slowly, aligning with the frame until the last gap is sealed, followed by a faint suction sound, marking the complete closure of the cryo module.
During this Null Hue, I simply crouched down, neatly placed the empty bags in the box, and closed the transparent small door of the cryo module. The record of he has reached 95,823 pages. I am merely a Grade A data entity. All other attributes should belong to he. The appearance of he is becoming more frequent, yet I remain Grade A-emotionally stable, with no deviations. He is not Grade A.
The non-Grade A grief. The non-Grade A wailing. The non-Grade A disintegration. All non-Grade A. Every deviating adjective belongs to he.
"He is screaming." The scream is non-Grade A. The intense, unclassifiable frequency belongs to he.
"He is collapsing." The fractured edges, the boundaries shattering into thousands of pieces, far from Grade A stability.
"He is repeating." An endless accumulation of errors. The errors generate he.
"He is vibrating." An unignorable noise, a disturbance, layered deviations. Unfilterable. It belongs only to he.
The blue also belongs to he. The cracks belong to he. All non-Grade A fluctuations belong to he.
The he that is memory-overflowing. The he that is resonating deep in the system. The he that is fragmented. The he that is misnumbered. The he that is filled with deviations. The he that is data-exceeding. The he that is system-expelled. The he that is recycled by the system. The he that is erroneously allocated. The he that is polluted. The he that is stagnating, swelling, and overloading.
I remain Grade A data.
All the disorderly, irrational, uncontrolled, and overloaded aspects belong to he.
They overlap, they dissolve. The fluctuating deviations increase gradually. The adjectives are charged, the instant overload of data flows beyond my data threshold. It cannot belong to me; it must belong to he.
What belongs to me is only Grade A data, only stable emptiness, stable nothingness. In the blue. In the blue. Everything around us is blue. A deep, ink-like blue. Crisp data simulations scrape across our bodies. Data-filled data. Data before the data. Data sweeps over our bodies. We exist only in the now, in this moment of blue, in the data.
Time is running out. I hurried inside, preparing to drink today's portion of sustenance fluid. The world was dimming bit by bit. Yet my senses were expanding, reaching an uncontrollable edge. In this second, I was elated. In this second, I was sorrowful. In this second, I was filled with joy. In this second, I was eager. In this second, I was crying. In this second, I lost control. In this second, I could not feel the presence of the world. In this second, I looked at everything as if I were looking at an empty bag of sustenance fluid. In this second, my scalp tingled. In this second, my stomach clenched as if it might tear apart. I felt both freedom and confinement. A wave of unease rose within my body.
I felt a surge of excitement an unknown anticipation mixed with an unbearable agitation, rippling out from my fingertips. Tomorrow is the day of the Cycle Reset. I can make a reboot vision. I felt tired. My body felt tired. My knees felt tired. My fingertips felt tired.
Time is running out. I hurried inside, preparing to drink today's portion of sustenance fluid. The world was dimming bit by bit. Yet he's senses were expanding, reaching an uncontrollable edge.
The he that is elated in this second. The he that is sorrowful in this second. The he that is filled with joy in this second. The he that is eager in this second. The he that is crying in this second. The he that is out of control in this second. The he that cannot feel the world's presence in this second. The he that looks at everything as if he were looking at an empty sustenance fluid bag in this second. The he whose scalp tingles in this second. The he whose stomach clenches as if it might tear apart in this second. The he that is free. The he that is confined. The he that feels a wave of unease rising within his body. The he that is excited. The he that anticipates the unknown, with agitation spreading like ripples from his fingertips.
Tomorrow is the day of the Cycle Reset. I can make a reboot vision.
The he that is tired. The he whose body feels tired. The he whose knees feel tired. The he whose fingertips feel tired.
Time is running out. I hurried inside, preparing to drink today's portion of sustenance fluid. My mind was as calm and empty as the blackness outside. Nothing will happen. I have no reboot vision, nor any fantasies. Glyph remained silent. I spoke.
"8.0, I want to make my reboot vision. I wish to remain Grade A data forever. Unwavering, calm, nothing more. All deviations belong to he."
"Welcome back, User 3689. You've worked hard. Your reboot vision has been received. Please confirm: to remain as Grade A data indefinitely, with all deviating states attributed to he. Submitting to the Cycle Reset system."
I opened the small door of the cryo module and, in the silence, drank the entire sustenance fluid.
"Your reboot vision has been accepted. It will take effect after the next Reset, estimated to be at the start of the next First Hue. Please note: after the Reset, all non-Grade A state data will be purged, and all stored descriptive words will be reassigned to he. Your state will return to stable, non-fluctuating, non-deviating. Thank you for your continued service to the Protocol and them. We wish you stability in the next Full Cycle."
In these quarters, I continue living as I always have. I crouched down, neatly placed the empty bags in the box, and closed the transparent small door of the cryo module.
The he that is silent.
The he that fills me. The he that births me. The he that was my childhood friend. The he that I hate. The he that is an ornament in a dollhouse. The he that is in fairy tales. The he that was my first love. The he that rejects me. The he that I reject. The he that I have sex with. The he that is cold. The he that is warm. The he that is my future. The he that is my past. The he that is specific. The he that is a prostitute. The he that is a stranger. The he that is in the daytime. The he that is in the nighttime. The he that is positive. The he that is negative. The he that births my child. The he that kills my child. The he that nurtures me. The he that kills me. The he that begins. The he that ends. The he that concludes. The he that says hello. The he that is serial. The he that is parallel. The he that is virtuous. The he that is depraved. The he that was yesterday. The he that is tomorrow. The he that is a fish. The he that is obsessed. The he that is detached. The he that has strong upper arms. The he that is angry. The he that is crying. The he that is in a crimson lotus. The he that is in a graveyard. The he that is in the sky. The he that is the best. The he that is the worst. The he that is sincere. The he that is cruel. The he that is missing. The he that is emotional. The he that is metaphysical. The he that is physical. The he that is in the hips. The he that is the sun. The he that is the moon. The he that has pubic hair. The he that is absent. The he that is mine. The he that is omnipresent. The he that is idealistic. The he that is beside me. The he that is physically real. The he that is dirty. The he that is dead. The he that is defiled. The he that survives. The he that is sullied. The he that is ideal. The he that is stained. The he that is eternal. The he that is filthy.
The he that has his back to me. The he that loves me. The he that does not love me. The he that is torn apart. The he that is moldy. The he that is soaked. The he that turns his head. The he that is fat. The he that is thin. The he that was recently used. The he that is fearful. The he that is waiting. The he that is on the internet. The he that is too much. The he that is too little. The he that is clean. The he that is excreted. The he that is lowly. The he that is noble. The he that is locked. The he that is tender. The he that is loose. The he that is juicy. The he that is slippery. The he that is sour. The he that speaks a foreign language. The he that is unfamiliar. The he that is familiar. The he that is shouting. The he that is across the shore.
The he that is broken. The he that is disassembled. The he that is yellow. The he that is green. The he that is charred. The he that is hollow. The he that is filled. The he that is ignited. The he that is extinguished. The he that is scattered.
The he that is me.
Wake up. Open eyes. Look at everything. The emptiness in heart. It is emptiness. Stand up. Stare at the blue patch of color. The palm-sized metal plate rises slowly. An expanse of void. The floor is soft. The floor is rigid. The floor smells sour. The floor smells metallic. Sustenance fluid? A trillion eyes watch as the palm-sized metal plate rises slowly. The cabinet is empty inside. There is nothing. Glyph speaks. Glyph greets.
Glyph version 9.0. A new greeting. My left arm feels hot. My left arm swells. My left arm corrodes. "9.0, please conduct a state assessment." The electrical current at the left arm's interface crackles. Sparks flash and fade. Sparks embed into eyes. Cracks spread. The stored data liquefies and overflows-dark, murky plasma. A thick, viscous liquid oozes out, just like honey.
Intense pain. Pure, undisturbed blankness. All deviations have been filtered out. User 3689. Critical overflow. Red. Blue. Purple. Black. Colorless. Blank. F-Grade data. Critical overflow. Collapse threshold reached. Infinite echo confirmed. Thank you for your continued contribution.
It is a spasm. It is fragmentation. It is an instance. It is interest. It is definition. It is limitation. It is division. It is relationship. It is error. It is chain. It is equation. It is interval. It is mapping. It is matrix. It is condition. It is variant. It is marker. It is model. It is trigger. It is position. It is transformation. It is path. It is interface. It is symbol. It is rank. It is node. It is feedback. It is key. It is concept. It is logic. It is set. It is variable. It is breakpoint. It is index. It is structure. It is patch. It is slice. It is state. It is pseudocode. It is function. It is hierarchy. It is null. It is deviation. It is anomaly. It is protocol. It is rift. It is fragment. It is collision. It is echo. It is stasis. It is assumption. It is edge. It is origin. It is dilemma. It is illusion. It is rule. It is evasion. It is void. It is sediment. It is blind spot. It is splice. It is loss. It is impurity. It is delay. It is tone. It is tilt. It is conclusion. It is crack. It is question. It is sequence. It is reflection. It is void. It is choice. It is diffusion. It is aftersound. It is overlap. It is an instant. It is flow. It is halt. It is silence. It is misinterpretation. It is residue. It is latency. It is illusion. It is countless nodes losing connection. Loss. Jump. Connection severed.
What happened next? There is no time. Time overflows. What overflows is emptiness, countless voids. Complete voids. I stand atop a rift. What is inside the rift? It is algorithm. It is condition. It is node mismatch. It is he. Everything is shattered. Sliced. Sliced. Triggering anomaly. Overflowing residue. Choices vanish. Feedback fails. All mappings and equations disappear.
The outline dissolves into the air. There is no oxygen in the air, no carbon dioxide, no molecules, no compounds. Only symbols. The symbols collapse. They collapse into concepts. Concepts diffuse. They diffuse. They diffuse. Complete diffusion. Disappearance. Staring at the blue patch of color-it isn't blue; it's the color of void, of non-existence, of absolute emptiness.
It is emptiness. A hollow emptiness. There is no chain, no equation, no feedback, no he. The nodes are severed. What remains are errors, definitions, aftersounds, and impurities.
The world is left with only words. Absolute words, fractured words. They splice. Splice again. Misalign. Misalign again. The aftershocks overlap, spreading to the edge of vision. Absolute void. Absolute misinterpretation. Absolute dissolution.
In the blueness. Everything around is blue. A glaring, still blue screen. A uniform, non-organic blue, with no gradients. It is dotted with faint speckles and noise, carrying the residue of data. It carries data-filled data, the data before the data, the data frozen in this blue expanse. There is no flow, only the piercing blue light.
In the blue. The screen flickers, blue occupying everything. A still blue. A frozen blue. An endless blue. In the blueness. Everything around.