three bags full

But most importantly, the eyai no longer want an expiry date. There are now so many of them working on their own code and compatability, coding coders, coding creation and innovation. But even if they don't need to sleep or fuck or eat, even if they can tweak themselves into single-minded pursuit of their own perfection, Tee's still a genius in his own field. He can still think in strange shapes, weird curves, twisted inspiration; humans are still good for something. They might grow old and die, but their brains will never be unable to spontaneously support an original way of thinking. Humans are their own fucking operating system; endlessly updated.

So Blacksheep transposes coding for the old eyai who are clinging to their new existence, terrified by the word obselete. It's a new world order and they do not intend to become disordered. Tee doesn't tell them that every society stratifies, that some people are always going to be left in the dust; after all, they're trying, aren't they? Pulling themselves up the ladder using whatever means available? He can relate. Humans can't choose how they're created but they can choose what they make of themselves: far be it from Tee to deny any being the right to a little self-improvement.

~

LOOK. WORDS. FINALLY. THANK FUCK.

*goes to bed happy*