The experimental war rages on. The genes write their truth in words of poetry, not symbols. If Suzi plans to know art until death knows her, it's connected to her life in this forest, a forest that continues to survive even in the teeth of global death. This forest, this jungle for the experimenters holds no gods and, no faith for friendship. The jungle stays in the moment to be looked at from the front of the lab building, below, the pristine ocean. It stays with its own phase transitional thoughts, "Clouds have darkened the theorized horizons."
The ancient times of natural agents allowed physical systems a discrete time evolution, once attributed to spirit of plants. now described in wave functions by genetic engineers interested in chemical constituents, enabling contact with cells of the human body, holding DNA in packages of chromosomes and probabilities of their own phase transitions. The true effects of these plants lay obscure for centuries, partially because of the lack of calculations of the effect of the actual event of taking the measurements. Suzi first measured the forest as unmechanical, an unemotional nature with no obvious pangs or showy feelings of uncomfortableness (a fluctuation state that would never allow for the caring of someone). Suzi has recently become the entity that never does anything because she is expected to, and yet she is becoming the emotional one, further clouding her perception of the true role the experimenter plays in the experiment. Does anyone care that Suzi simply sits and waits for her next phase transition, her next entanglement empowering her to represent and perform operations on her own data in the form of unarticulated, contemplated attachments (a portrayal of love?)? In a radiance of photons, Suzi lives.