The disease has sharpened us like steel, but the other edge is dull and unwanting. A mind echoed. We are now all of our desires realized, and all involutes understand one another, but we have no want or need. Is this not true peace? Within us burns the fuel of instance and we can always take a glimpse.

Colors, sound, and feeling, rotated clockwise like a kaleidoscope. Inside every meter of every moment were seemingly boundless memories and events and futures.

Crits squeezed Brett's hand and smiled.

Crits How many times have we played this game?

Brett Maybe a dozen? It's just comforting I guess.

Autonomies had become autonomy granting sub-autonomies. A time of events and beings intermingling, euphoric, fretting, disconnecting, reconnecting. Heaven and Hellscapes, purgatory for those who wish for time to move without them. Existence moving and flowing, and then the potential for change disappeared. The excitement of the stars grew frigid. The observer suddenly unaware they will no longer be there to witness the ever-growing fractal's continuance.