"My sky is falling," said Golam, his head fuzzy with so much verbal litter, "I keep thinking to myself: 'am I already written? who writes me the way I was written?' Did someone order this particular sequence of events for me and did they get what they deserve? I'm not sure I deserve it, but then again I look at you and think: 'what can I possibly do for you that would give YOU the chance to prove that YOU exist.' Right now I see you brushing your hair and preparing for the the next set of psycho-drifts, but what's an avatar really to do? Respond. Respond respond respond."