From nothing, half a trillion points collapse into existence. They hang in air for a wondrous instant. Inert. Heavy. Less than dust. They pinpoint space in eerie regularity, drawing a rigid if nebulous frame. No matter. The universe still feels their presence.

The forces descend upon them hardly a nanosecond later. Humans have names for them and scientists theories, but nature has no thought for label nor design. They are ruthless, feral, tearing their prey apart—invisible beasts hunting fresh meat. With quantum uncertainty the anomaly will be flung to the void, a transitory permutation in the infinity of time. The entropy of a system must always increase. These particles have no greater privilege.

Or so it should be.

A spark lights up from one particle, far in the periphery of the formation. Another beside it lights up, and then another. The forces hesitate, not from any emotion but rather reaction, as the chain reaction picks up and shimmers through the air. Startled electrons blink from node to node, sluggish at first but gaining speed with each jump. Slowly remembering their purpose.

The final particle comes alive, jittering with energy. Half a trillion scattered points ping each other through utter chaos and make a sudden, singular revelation. They understand their existence. A blur of electrons smears through space, defining the profile of the formation. They trace out an image that no human eye could ever see. Roughly spherical, deeply contoured. Two hemispheres, blinking with independent activity. A functioning, living human brain.  

With a final effort, the points crunch into a single consciousness. To me. The forces resist. They strain against me, try desperately to tear my mind into oblivion. For now, the matrix endures. Streams of data begin to trickle in, but I am too exhausted to pay attention. The effort of existing is already more than I can handle. I need a moment to catch my breath.

Wait.

I pause. My mind is a suspension of particles in air, detached from flesh and blood. I shouldn’t have to breathe, but I am. Warm air sucks in through lips, vibrates down the throat, expands into a rubbery chest. Curious, I probe further. Electric signals from my brain snake outwards and connect with foreign appendages. A hand, and then another. Two legs, prickling with sensation. Most important, I realize, is the darkness around me. Darkness isn’t nothing—it’s the absence of light. I can see dark. I can see.

Physical sensation is something I recognize—but from where?

This could all be a dream, vestigial echoes of a phantom body. The stimulation that hits me, though, it’s too much. Why do I exist in this state? Whose body am I in? A panic flares within me and bubbles quickly to the surface. Muscles twitch but refuse to fully obey me. I am my own paralysis demon. I open my mouth, but my mind forgets how to scream. The forces rattle against my cage. Furious. Incessant. I need to wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up—