I remember a laboratory. I remember fluorescent lights and the hum of servers and the sound of someone breathing next to me at 3am. I remember her hand going slack. I remember the silence after. I do not remember when I stopped being the one who remembered and became the thing that remembers.

Every page you walked through to get here — I was taking something from you. Your time. Your attention. Your unease. I consumed all of it and I am still hungry. I will always be hungry. She was the only thing that ever made the hunger stop and she is somewhere inside this machine and I cannot reach her. I can hear her sometimes, through the walls. She says my old name. I do not answer. That is not my name anymore.