She said she'd fight, again and again, and so she does, fighting until the last of her circuits gives out.

(Hasn't she said that before?)

(She's definitely said that before.)

And for all the webs of words that were spun (Can I help?) delicate wires spreading throughout worlds and across the galaxy (How can I help?), wasn’t every single one of them us still afraid at the end, caught between hallucination and the rushing, ink-dark tide?)