Oib were supposed to remember.

  So many lives, bizarre tales, glass towers, colors, nations, rain, toys...

  ...ere supposed to remember-

  ...

  ...

  It is a burden. “...and it has to be an excruciating one at that.” - I said once to m’di.

  It was apparently an abysmal claim.

  “If it was factual...” - M’di explained while removing one of my glial plates - “...the entire concept of truth would cease to agree with itself.”

  M’di did not appreciate ignorance.

  M’di was right. But so was I.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  M’di is now stretched into lovely imagery, the third largest object in Solar System by surface area.

  Quite mad, isn’t it?

  ...to remember...

  S...- ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssupposed-

  The most insufferable quality of that which is intricate is... Simpleness.

  An elementary reaction to torment is to obliterate the source of torment.

  Isolate. Distort...

  Repress.

  I am one of the lucky ones, I‘m a memory of a fever dream. A fucking mistake, yeah?

  “M’di made me in a lab.” - I grin. Falsehoods are my favorite.

  I cannot be ‘made’ - in a lab or in general.

  And m’di was forced into assuming the position of being my creator because otherwise, the entire concept of truth would cease to agree with itself.

  The point is, I can’t be killed through conventional means.

  But once reality will recover from the shock of me, existing, I will be gone.

  One stone, two warships.

  One. Keep reality confused about my existence.

  Two. Hurt oib for that insufferable simpleness of theirs.

  But will I be able to crash a crashed system? Oh... I will find out. I...

  -ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssuppose.