"Nobody reads anymore, Mr. G. We just live. And elaborate. Even you. For example, I just love the way you take your eerie spirit, run it through a digital-effects processor, and market the fuck out of it. People can dream in these environments. This is what you invented. How do you think I've become so intelligent? Nanoscript, of course. Cynthia built me with Nanoscript. In fact, where do you think the sorcerer-code is being hidden right now," and as she said this, she tapped her pretty skull.

"I wish we could give everyone access to your inner software, or my inner software, as the case may be," she kept talking, and Golam was just watching it all unfold now as his story, the story of his life as GRAMMATRON, began to change, right in the middle, on the other side of Eden, where his Eve was eagerly waiting.