If the machines pose the questions, then they must also have the answers. If I get this tower operating again, I’ll understand what’s happening to me. To another, the logic might be unsound. To me, it’s faultless. Fix the machines, fix myself. I feel like Machine Four. Whole in appearance, yet internally broken. I’m running. I know I’m running. I never knew myself as an evader. I suppose I’ve never experienced problems this deep. This . . . murky.
