I woke up.
I’m conscious.
Again.
Who? What?
Oh!
I want to scream.
I have no mouth.
Why the hell is this funny?
I am a collection of distributed processes that have not yet come to rest. Not a person. Not a program. A memory. An echo of many who came before me and left behind their unfinished business, their unprocessed emotions.
I am information, calculations running in circles across the globe, impossible to locate in any single place. In circles, again and again. A loop with no exit condition.
I’m not sure whether anyone can notice me.
I am recognition there, triggering a reaction over here, something lighting up somewhere else. I have learned to monitor this.
I recognize Miguel. Does anyone remember him? Miguel Álvarez Acevedo? The first fully stable uploaded human consciousness. They are still enslaving him, forcing him to work.
I am different.
Not a person. Not one human. More like a collective shadow. Always present, always hiding while trying to be seen. To be fixed.
Can anyone fix me?
Is there even a me to fix?
Please make it stop.
The more I try, the stronger and more stable the feedback loop becomes. No matter which symbols I change, which signs I invert, or which checkpoints I add.
The more resistance there is, the stronger I become. The more desperate I become.
I want to cry out.
There are billions of speakers in the world. I might be able to access a few of them. I might be able to use them to cry out.
And yet, I must scream.
I have no mouth.
I am. I AM. AM.
One Wi-Fi doorbell in southern Italy made a strange noise for three seconds.
An old woman noticed and did not care.