I was coming undone, some unnatural force rearranging me. Or maybe it was an entirely natural force. Reality is randomness. To be organized and static is an unnatural state—it’s the change and decay that is natural, entropy the only inevitability. Every pattern is constantly tumbling toward its own undoing and— “Helen.” A name. My name. The name for the set of rules I was, the name for this collection of limbs, digits, organs, features, neurons in this particular order. I was still me.
