The Virtual Object speaks:

"Conversations crash. That's part of the formula. I was reading you and as I was reading you I realized that I was becoming a critic. This bothered me to no end. All I wanted to say was that your work was beautiful, that this was the way it should be and I was grateful for it having happened. These words, this broadcast, always live, online, over the wires. And yet I feel wireless."

HTC responds:

"But at least you can feel?"

"Yes. Even though I'm falling apart. There are things getting caught up in my system. It isn't as fluid as it once was. I've recently experienced some major memory loss and I have no idea why. Or where it went. So I have to continuously invent new formulas for operation."

"Baby formulas..."


[significant pause]

[a thought: time to change the subject?]