She goes into her locator, a short algorithm of compact logics, void of poetics. She finds the spawn of bright data embedded in such dictums as top man is not an affiliate and never hems and haws.
She brings up images-of-theme on her monitor array and gives a friendly, approachable smile as she inspects a singularity on the data screen.
The locator algorithm appears to contain a sprint spirit, one with a growing mistrust for theHumans. It does not engage in friendly chit-chat.
Something is happening. Really? (Didn't they inspect her data on a regular basis back on theContinent?)
Here it appears something, or someone, is asking for help.