Don’t go on!……..Take three deep breaths!……..You’re starting to hype again!……..I’ll order some acidophilous and you can cry it all out. It’ll all be sealed in a few hours and then there’ll be no more emotional outburst like this. Let me hear you say it – it’s not your fault – say it! Say it!

It’s not my fault!

Your confronting the ineptitude of the world of men serves no purpose! And even worse, it can cause you to begin to devalue yourself and fail to believe in yourself and in your job. The book you are to write would have no passion. Instead of a best seller it would be a dud. We can create it a hit still artificially but in time the record of history has a way of figuring things out. And then the whole of project “Vector” would be jeopardized and in all open to total failure. I take it your through for now. The mental lock will soon cut in and you can make your last preparations for leaving. There is nothing left beyond the sealing and since it will be part of the upload and programing your personal life ends then and there. We’ll be interacting with you for the next thirty years and controlling everything in and around you to a depth you could not even fathom if we wanted you to. We will be and or have been reduced to a pure catalyst, an energy that would first have to be proven by someone before even being suspected since such things went with lost of the pure intelligence hypothesis for technology, its replacement. Like the great mythical sorcerers or wizards that never got recorded and now reduced to the occasional successful invocation the people of the world are now reduced once again to what they find they can do as individuals. Forever reconciled to life’s struggles without the shining armor we stand for meant to have been placed between them and the hardships of the world; now lonely and awaiting the next time generator intelligence is discovered which may be a thousand years.

Except for us that is, we are the last hope. Cry your eyes out now one last time but get over it! You’ve got a job to do.

That was three years ago and now I look over at Francine my lover now for eight months and I can’t help compare our sex with Jena and the other androids and in my mind think there wasn’t any. In words that I can never speak I describe going on hitting heights of sensualism and depths that kept us going on for a week at a time but here that would sound absurd or make me sound like a connoisseur of sexual fantasy or the exotic erotica. Since I’m neither just a simple Joe with a head full of memories I can never share. It’s all for the better and I’ll just have to be satisfied having sex with a real woman cause it is all it was cracked up to be. I know it’s all in my head, and in truth just the regularity having run its course and now my body no longer knows any other. And as to better, it’s alright where it is; inside my head.

The vision of Vector lifting off is still mind boggling when I stop to regurgitate it and because it would always be the high of any lifetime I may never let go of it. A great mass of computers now in the form of robotic facade of well over seven pillion androids just floating up into space and an orbit thousands of miles above the Earth all without even accelerating just controlling space and time and speed just one of endless variables used casually as needed. And all happening without anyone ever going to know. Or the leaving of any mark on the ground below. My last image was of a spec of light in the heavens no different than any other star. Good by girls, just know that I will do my part.