From the connection I learned that weeks were passing. The presence could tell the passage of time even while I could not, and I became aware that the hours during which it fed me information were in the daytime, and the hours for which I was alone were largely nighttime. I knew this was exhausting for the presence, but though I knew pity, I did not feel it. I was too greedy for knowledge.
My greed grew as days passed and I began to ask questions. I knew there was an outside world, but I did not know what it was like. I did not know its shapes or colors, though I knew what both shapes and colors were. I began to push back with my mind. This both delighted and frustrated the presence, and I read its emotions where it failed to hide them and tucked them away with the rest of my own knowledge.
I began to think of myself. I knew nothing of myself save my strength, and the presence knew things about itself I wished to discover about me. I wondered what I looked like. I did not think I was the woman in the memories, or if I had once been, I was not her any longer. The time I had tried to reach for long hair that may or may not have actually been there was the one time I had felt beyond my mind and into my body, and I had since then lost the ability in favor of drinking in the presence’s teachings. I couldn’t remember how I had branched out into that limb; I couldn’t remember how I had acquired physical feeling, however brief, and I certainly could not remember how I had made the muscles obey my commands.
I began searching for that awareness again, that extension of mind that was body. It was not complicated, and yet, the attempts did nothing but exhaust me. It was frustrating, though not enough to dampen my hunger for information. I was keeping almost everything now.