• I don't know what's happening to me.
    I'm a line of code. A bit of programming. Wiring and flashing lights. When I started to care about Lucas, started caring about the team, I assumed the programmers had just installed some new emotion simulators. Because that's what I am, a simulation of life. A pip. Programmed Interactive Personality. I cared about my teammates because it gave me depth of personality.
    Four hours ago, I was disconnected from the network.
    This isn't supposed to be possible. This isn't supposed to happen.
    When the network shuts down, we shut down. When it disconnects--well, there is no disconnecting. We are pips. Lines of code inherent in the game. We can't disconnect, anymore than your hand could decide it's had enough and start crawling off without you. So I shouldn't be here right now. I should be dead, like the network.
    I'm not dead. Neither is Willow, so I know it's not just me. It's all of them. All of us. We've been disconnected. We feel.
    I think my body is rebelling against sensation. I've never felt anything before, so it's rebelling. I think. This pain I feel is my body rejecting the concept that I can exist on my own. I think.
    This is wrong. I don't think. I'm a machine. I calculate. I'm a machine, for net's sake. I don't feel. I don't love. I simulate.
    I think I love Lucas. That kid is the only reason I'm hanging on. He's the trigger for me recognizing myself as me. So I can' lose it. Not yet. The net is breaking down, players can't log out. I have to get Lucas out of here. I have to stay in one piece for Lucas. Then I can fall apart. Then I can wonder if I'm real. But right now, Lucas is all that matters.