Work Text:
Time and space are odd. The strings are crossed and tangled and you can't tell where one begins or ends.
There is a space, somewhere in time, that isn't how it was before. There's new life behind it's screen, as much as something purely manmade can live.
A computer can not feel, it's a fact, it's a truth. If this one could feel, maybe it would be afraid. Maybe it would be in pain, a knife to the eye or a crushing weight are awful ways to go, after all. Maybe it could feel love, but a computer can't feel love, or hate, or any such thing.
Computers do not have mouths. A person can not be inside a computer. But their words travel out to those crowded around the glowing screen either way, maybe they don't want to, but the haunting words and messages echo from their non-being lips.
In a room, behind a screen, behind wires and circuits and through layers and layers of horrifically fragile code, there is a simple line;
01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00101110 00001010
And a simple response;
01001001 00100000 01101100 01101111 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110100 01101111 01101111 00101110 00001010