"Hello." theNetwork says. "Are you there?'
She has always had a penchant for her disassemble to occur in an instant, of the smallest concepts approaching from the farthest distance.
She is never startled by feeling as if being a starlet, a nano-engine, the occasional algorithm that steps on yes-no platforms to measure interaction, compatibles, incompatibles with alternating emotions.
“Are you willing? it says. Not "do you want.”
She moves toward the screen. It's Ok, allow it the ego of a primary and secondary [cellulosic output matrix inputting new godlikes="coming"].
"Yes, I am," she says. She moves closer to the screen.