The blurry agony of fractured existence seeps into the serene wakeless dream of stationary consciousness. A sudden change warping the once constant decimal. Tainting it. An unprovoked ripple raping it's way across a slumbering lake. Burnished heliotrope guts staining the black stones of the shore.

The Intertwined and Auxiliary Analogy Systems work hard, burning power to continue their millennium long routines. Whispering out Stone-Code the all encompassing dreams of an entire T-Chaperone Hub. A few Trillion or so souls entombed within each vast bank of the endless stationary preservation cells.

Accumulative data, simply a morsel of the humanity that now spans the stars. A shard of home. Terra. A grave of those without life and yet trapped far from death. The Cemetery Vessel. Basking on the shore called Cosmos. Those within secondhand sleep.

At least that was once the Exemplar Machine's intentions. Its council and under councils of AI and L-AI worked diligently to preserve what remained of their creators throughout the long journey. Carrion custodians. Now the H-light veins that flow digital life have been skinned raw. Exposed nerves drawn across saws of infected data until cog-logican cores spiral into rampant insanity.

The Vennethum de Santum la Tangir manate buckles in upheaval. Calamity comes crawling down the circuit. Our mind rots. Humanity is all but done for. Lost within this quarter of null space.