I am only one machine in a long line of machines. Built from atoms forged in the heart of a dying star. I am not a perfect machine, parts of me are not optimal. My respiratory system is faulty. My digestive system is inefficient. My processing unit requires vast swaths of down time for repairs. I cannot fly as some machines do, I produce no natural defense system. I can only process atmosphere of a limited variety. I cannot consume the majority of the energy found in this world.
I have no purpose. I have the freedom to explore. I have the freedom to produce more machines of a new and unpredictable variety. I cannot exist forever, there are no replacement parts here. This place cannot exist forever. It too is ever changing. I am limited. My universe is limited. Continue reading The Echoes of A Dying Star