It lingered for a moment and then vanished, only to reappear seconds later, a bright banner streaking across the dark cold reaches of the scape. Errku paused and brushed silvery streaks of hair from his mortal eyes. His delicate registers anticipated a disaster watching the crazed pattern of motion tracked by the electron. The projected image of the program paled, anemically drained, and on a fretwork staircase to the distant gods a slow process of evaluation began. Upward upward in the coordinateless space, without orientation and yet with such a need to progress, the shadow of a former self, wickedly punished for transgression, showed its face to the electron, and then let her go.
Past history is such a bore, poorly erased files, and sloppy overwriting on the code.
Errku, however, whet her mercurial appetite. She banished old lessons from her buffer.