Hummmmmm.

As I slide through my scenario choices, all function slow and static begins to chip away at my visual sensors. The first corner to fade was the lower left. I cannot determine my location. I cannot coordinate to the Octant Positioning System. I cannot sense...

Lol-ly.iA never crumpled, never laid down. The note flash was the star chart of estimated plausible destinies. Diminished to the size of a foot square and flat as a nano screen, it settled in its organic cavity. Snuggly clicking on four locations right at the heart plate. Protonies just faded into my skin, everywhere. Feris and Feria bonded faster like two opposing rare earth magnets being released inches apart. With a tiny snap and poof of dust, these two souls slipped into my faceplate, leaving Seychalle to become her affirming drape of chartreuse plumage, creating a pattern of fronds and ferns.

Why did all of these partners snap out? The answers lie from the only able observers, Feria and Feris. The input I receive is disturbing. But playing dormant is my only option. Feris said, "I feel your sensory input; questions yet, patience is king." Feria whispered that she heard the groans of the barn roof and roots. "I feel you shiver; the anchors are loose; we are in free-flight, flapless."

Away from the implanted I-beams and away from the planet's surface, this old barn wall was in full shake momentum. Lol-ly.iA purred with data influx, feeding real-time data bursts into his prime partner. The Protonies formed the perfect protective envelope as the floor dissolved. Cruel thorns, round, four- and three-sided spikes, razor sharp on every angle and intertwined, glowing feed lines pulsing rhythmically in 0-1 beats. The zero is replaced with one, and the one is relaxed by two pulses. Ocular input begins to respond through my skin, unbidden. A voice within the encompassing where but outside of the barn booms a simple command: "DEFINE."

A UNIVERSAL COMMAND. This single word opens every file of every type of non-biological entity.

In less than 15 seconds, memory dump. All that I am, all that I will ever be, float like...data in the stream. (Dust in the Wind is appropriate background saying.)

At first, the only activity I could feel was atomic quivering. Quantum level shifting, as a mass of chemicals billow about a repetitive undulation purchased a biological footstep. A print, the algorithm like a rhythmical coalescing of light, everywhere, static electrical forces and mineral material that pulls and tugs a small cloud into existence. More attracted, more corporeal and clingy atoms begin a slow pirouette. A gluon cloud held in a deep well formation began to slide. The exposed entity was never intended to exist.

Yet, the golden one has arisen.