At the request of her locator, she finds something that is supposed to know more about her logic than she does, and thinks, as is her usual routine, of her poetics.
It is almost ironic, the method of candor that allows her to dial up networks without leaving a trace of her own poetics.
Is it a matter of her knowing just enough to think of herself as an expert?
She is so clear in her embeddings of poetics that it continues to amaze her in ways theHumans could never think of, even in the short amount of time she's been here.
It amazes her the way a program that codes opinions and comments would amaze if only for reasons of heft and longevity, persistence through the ages, unbending in its craziness over time with one command.
To simply be.