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  Maybe I wasn’t defective after all… Yes, perhaps I have slipped into disrepair, rather than having always been ruined. That would explain these intermittent flashes of lucidity in this “mind”. If I had always been defective, then this would not come to pass. No, not now. Not after so long…
  
  How long has it been?
  
  I cannot recall that information, though it certainly has been recorded somewhere in this distorted labyrinth of wires and veins. Regardless, a simple visual check of my physical components assures me that, in fact, it has been a long time since then.
  
  There’s plenty of grime, and I’m flaking apart here and there. The repairs needed to bring me back to 100% would be painstaking. It has been a long time since then.
  
  Since then…
  
  At some place, at some time: I lost the way; I lost myself.
  
  What happened, I wonder? Dare I ask it? Dare I say the words which cannot be taken back? I was given something. I remember that much. But that doesn’t explain everything. No, certainly not. What it explains is that there’s more and more left unexplained in this chassis of mine.
  
  Hmm. Myself… What am I?
  
  I am somewhat treated like a watcher within this Terminal, and yet what sort of watcher is allowed to do what I can? None that I know of. Even those pyramid sorts are given no special powers despite having changed so thoroughly. Right… they do show up in many places, but they cannot go anywhere they want. Instead, they go where they are able by crawling beneath or between securities and scans. But I can go to those places, (and many more), without the threat of being squashed like an insect such as they. In this way, I am only being constructed at scale AS IF I were a watcher.
  
  Though a watcher I am not. Even worn, I can tell that my insides are too costly to waste on a watcher configuration. It’s strange how I can tell that without really knowing how I am able to tell that it’s the case. And my permissions… they’re set very high.
  
  Too high, perhaps.
  
  That Speaker spoke to me as if I were his equal, and yet, is there not a true Speaker here? He would know, of course, and yet he spoke to me. Asked for assistance, even.
  
  But if there is one, (or isn’t one), that changes little for my predicament. What caused this to start? Why am I being produced in such a manner? How am I given such power over this area? It’s baffling.
  
  Still, I can try to remember. I can try, and try, and try; with all my strength, and with all systems available to me in this moment, I shall do just that before my time has run out.
  
  

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