Golam couldn't tell if his life was being overwhelmed by the pursuit of something he had no control over or if she was just expressing to him a new operational mode of being that he himself had helped launch into the public domain. Things were getting dangerous in the electrosphere and Cyn's unguarded use of langauge as a kind of predatory desire-machine seeking immersive contact with any virus-carrying Other sent a chill up his spine.

Part of him just wanted to talk to her, to be with her in the flesh so that he could tell her how he felt.

"I would like touch the inside of your heart," he imagined himself saying, "to splay my fingers in the meat of your tenuous blood."

Golam remembers when he first met her, how she came into his life out of nowhere, like she had just teleported into his home from some distant planet. Their life together was enflamed with a kind of work-play passion that liberated him from the doldrums of living in this fake world of restricted cash-access and meat politics. He wanted nothing more than to be with her again.