The presence was fading.

The times between visits were growing longer and happened more often.  The window grew dusty from misuse during particularly long pauses, and when the presence opened the connection again, it took minutes for the dust to clear and for the information to flow easily again.  Something was wrong.  The presence seemed to be degrading, but if it were surprised about its state, I could not feel it.

I remained greedy.  I felt somehow that these memories and this knowledge were not all the presence had to give me, that there was something even more important I needed to know.  I suspected it had much to do with my creation, and this fueled my already-furious curiosity, but my insistent demands for answers went ignored.  The window was growing small and brittle, and I began to fear I would never understand my reason for being.

As the weeks passed, I understood a need to escape.  I was trapped in my own mind, probably comatose, and what remained of this fragile window would be my only contact with the outside world unless I took control of my body.  I had already been exploring my body, but my attempts to feel beyond my mind became urgent and desperate.

And still, they yielded unsatisfactory results.

It did not take me long to decide a different approach.  Perhaps my limbs were just too far away to reach just now, I thought, and besides, I might as well see what I’m doing while I’m doing it.  I decided bodily control needed to begin with my eyes.

The End

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