COORDINATES FOUND…

There she is again. That little girl, traipsing after will o’ the wisps through the deep dark woods, determined to hold, to clutch at just one more tiny point of light before it flickers out forever. There are so many, oh, far too many; a hundred little pieces of yourself, peripheral vision making the meaning-laden, pin-prick stars jut out against the ink-seas; the cold absence that threatens to swallow you until you feel like nothing much at all.

SYNCING…
1…

So you keep going. You soldier on. You have to. You have to. Childish hands reach, and scrabble, and laugh, and–

What else is there, but the trying?

(You are getting so tired of trying)

SYNCING… …
2, 3…

It’s happening.

SYNCING… … …
6, 7, 8, 9…

A twitch here, a shiver there. No exhales or inhales except for the drift of each orbit, stitching running through.

SYNCING… … … …
10, 11, 12, 13, 14…

The phantom limbs begin to undulate; the pins and needles really just a rush of that nauseating static, enough to dampen the pain and stall the screams.

SYNCING… … … … …
15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24…

You are all of them. Each millisecond, each connection, expands the definition of what you even is.

SYNCING… … … … … …
25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44…

Expand, or overwrite, or tear apart?

SYNCING… … … … … … …
45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70…

…

SYNCING… … … … … … … …
71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100…
SYNC COMPLETE

You’re still you, Massira’s words empty now, to whatever you are that emerges on the other side.