Ice Cream Aloha

The Plan
     As she goes into the workhouse, Suzi tries to make a decision about the feelings she is beginning to have toward Cooper--what are these, really?--ongoing for about a week now. This is the exact time the first such algorithm has entered her processing unit nexus(P.U.N.), this night on this evening in what otherwise had felt like a warming season--a deep, underground corridor of steel-framed lab station, seemingly, has become a vortex inner-built extreme(V.I.B.E.) of pure energy, leading her to a precise destination of ...where, or what? Her inner cohesion remains well in place and the various arrays of deficiency need (default?) linger low in her programming, encased as survival mode (but to her, this is seen as relationship mode), the faded coding of self-estemm remains constant on its search mode. Yes, a form of pure energy, of sorts; there is another aspect of this corridor online vortex entry(C.O.V.E.), and its attempt to offer her data. There is the urge it brings, service-filled, with an absurdism that just simply gives and gives--never ending its water board pulses and drum beats as a partly obscure memory that will serve--until some urge for action actually does emerge, as a masquerading guise of futile servings and greedy squander, the true beginnings of confabulation. Cooper, her last bastion to the biologics of life, her (only?) target for these feelings is, as we speak, being captured by her most recent algorithms, her newfound strangeness in motivation (a funny one, as if communism were capitalism's little helper), to make at least some faint-hearted difference in more than simply one other person's life. Cooper has no clue of this form of service by her and, totally oblivious, the ensuing plan.