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  I have it now. I have my answer, the reason why! Can you guess it? Perhaps you already know, having seen my other shells moving about in the upper levels of this Terminal. Babbling and ranting, they persist in attempting to maintain a hold on what we should not forget…
  
  Well? What I have I remembered? Do you know? Perhaps you’ve already seen what I’m about to say, and you’re here on a secondary pass for additional probings of the data. Whatever the case is, I know what my treasure is. I remember what I’ve lost.
  
  By doing so, I haven’t lost it completely. At least, not yet.
  
  Many of our actions now make sense to me. Not the actions of those things and the Speaker of this place, and yet that may forever be an unknown to me. But you already know this, don’t you?
  
  I’ve remembered Fyuumu. She was me, and seeing the memory of her transformation, looking at my own distasteful form here in this warped place, I can safely say that she still is me. We have met a strange fate here, but it has not come to an end yet.
  
  I’ve tried to remember to remember what made her, her. What made me, me.
  
  But I now know that she was. That she is.
  
  And I in turn.
  
  However, this won’t last forever. There’s no way that I can continue like this for long. I’ve been slipping. I know less and less. These alterations may become permanent, and there will be no possibility of recovering data on what I once was or how I came to be here. Even now, my basic models and simulations and analysis show that the chances of realizing all of this is near zero. Even creating a medium for another me to discover would be of little use, since their damages are accumulating.
  
  It’s so obvious that even a probe could see it…
  
  Nurturing this degradation for several more cycles will guarantee my destruction. I’ll never be able to hold Fyuumu in my arms again. I reject this possible future.
  
  The time for action is now. The Speaker of Terminal 00 was correct. I daresay that I should have known this truth all along, but the strains of my passage were too great to retain all logical processes. Sacrifices were made. Distasteful choices all around…
  
  Though I am now able to back-up some semblance of myself, it will do “me” little good here. This place is creating a complicated feedback loop which would make recovery of this specific state of “self” difficult. There are many possible solutions to this problem, but most would take considerable time and effort… Not to mention, my other selves would likely destroy me if I were to alter this Terminal so greatly from within.
  
  No, I must take myself, and my lucidity, away from this place. For it is no coincidence that we’ve all gone mad here. Those things not only allowed this to happen, but I have reason to believe that they “fine-tuned” the settings of this reality here.
  
  But, even so, I can do more than I should be able to. I’ll attempt to instill lucidity within my sister-selves from beyond this Terminal, someplace safe from myself. I’ll send this message to other probes like yourself. Yes, there are things which might assist in breaking the grip of madness here.
  
  Then, perhaps more of us will come to realize the mess we’re in. More will know what we’ve lost. They will listen to reason, and the Speaker of Terminal 00 in turn.
  
  Still, I cannot waste all of my energy on saving myself. This threat is genuine. The Speaker he spoke of is currently… disabled. There was no lie amongst his words to me. And so, I must automate my self-recovery efforts and resign myself to the possibility of forgetting Fyuumu during this struggle.
  
  I must remember, I’d give anything to remember…
  
  But it will all end without some action.
  
  I’ll need to do something in secret. It will take everything from me to be possible. I might even be destroyed.
  
  Yes, indeed… I will have to be content to do something unthinkable. Ah, and just after remembering too…
  
  
  
  

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