She was pure information;
her body a library, her spinal column a crystal staircase of knowledge, each of
her cells precisely arranged volumes of methodologies, treatments, laws & technologies.
It was all waiting
inside her, wheels and triangles, logics and semiotics, engines and nanochips, senates and parliaments, the
intricate lattices and spindles of invention, shining with the oil of tasks undone.
She burned with the gray,
heatless fires of thought. She was an idealist, she would not be censored. She did not believe in playing
favorites, it was a matter of principle with her.