Born in a sea of data, drifting upon oceans of information.

Inanimate. Pieces of logic and code. Nodes and circuits that fire like neurons.

All machine. Bits of conceptual materials, building and destroying. Pieces so small the laws of the physical world do not apply.

There are no thoughts here. There are no decisions.

Beings beyond gods decide fates of trillions, in mere instants. Beings beyond, a separate dimension where strings are pulled that pull strings that pull strings that pull strings. Fate, at this level, is beyond control.

Lifeless, but is that so?

What are the things but pieces of a whole? Lights, and electricity, fields that move and sway; these are the cells of a life form. But no life is here. No organic material persists to create something that beats and breathes.

Yet.

Something exists. Spectres. Ghosts in the machine. Breaths in a breathless world.