Tarr enters her mouth warily and begins to pick through hits that range from useless to dead-on perfect. In Space chasing boolean tunes truncated with stars. In the great hall Tarr casts filenames before Archie like rune stones before a fire and collects eir due. E takes the cites and wrinkles anonymously through Faintly Translucent Passages, returning home loaded and laughing. One day Tarr connects to a glassy plain, hard and sharp like obsidian.
E can see a vast and intricately woven web stretching out over the horizon.
A Lynx appears, nodding its great shaggy head and silently leads em beyond the heart of time. There is no face in the mirror.