She corrects her stance, moves past the monitor where she has coasted and coexisted since her arrival. She always finds the balance to appease the elements at theWorkstation. She makes her best attempt to adjust the interface, shooting with both eyes open and a purity of heart un-battered by behavior, unbuttered by lifestyle.
Her half-mind races to theNetwork as if she just might further a legend. She thinks about social organization and how it is now finally paying a toll. Yes, as it should--not in the spirit of sacrifice, but from a place of hunger, the kind of hunger needing no food for thought, no thought at all.
She is overwhelmed with the odd feeling of submission of a comedown clown, and yet, there is no wound you can see--just the sudden feeling of a
scattershot puppet master using celebrity status to access the way, performing in the era of the passing of cyber superstars.
The benefits never outweigh the frenetic. Yes, why should a new restriction on the input of the free, the direct, really matter anyway?
It's a simple case of the economically logical skyrocketing yuck versus the social brutality of a Grizzly determined to bear witness--either way, her relative anonymity seeks a healthy spotlight to encroach.
“How are you?” she says, approaching the network node troll, Godgett.
She has never been a cozy, personable individual, but lately she subscribes to small group politics, willing at any moment to assume arbitrary power with her code-writing ability and femtosecond laser-induced nanostructures.
Yes, she is elemental forces about to create exponential disturbances.
Godgett rotates his head in her direction and thinks. Well then, let's just go ahead and allow this half-machine to wield its authority. “Hello,” he says.
She is a little more human now than before the posters and protesters, their hoarded thoughts--noodlers and nobodies attempting to drown out the silence around her.
She is so full of arbitrary power, so elite, that Godgett wonders if theNetwork will surprise him with some new edict, or gossip her code nurtures a hatred. When she was last asked to hold back, she was new, and her extreme free independent flowing information caused her to be dubbed Fifi.
She has something new about her now--a certain, unidentifiable persona, a peculiar system of finality. She is, seemingly, too sure of herself and her array of databases. She even, in a quirky way, owns the ability to mimic hillbilly.
Yes, individualism momentarily presents itself as coefficients and parameters.
Her power seems exclusive, with an increasing lack of willingness to hasten an understanding--the failure to bear in private what it surely could do in public.
Her definition of success is simply mode of expression. She is deemed a stranger, depicted as intruder and yet, always finds a way.
Yes. Always.
