Free Got Click by TC Davis Jr

Got Click
    The giant copper gate
burst open. Out he flew, one of millions racing wildly and
desperately to the destination. Energy flaring, he released his
will to the power of the pull. His wavelength shimmered with
determination.
    A tiny essence of energy, soaring at light
speed - give or take a mach - beyond time, devoid of definition. He
was just barely an essence, not even necessarily “he,” ruled by the
barbaric crudeness of polarity alone in this wild realm. He had no
purpose, only the pull.
    He was pure energy. His sole existence was to
reach the destination in a copper wasteland. Somehow, he knew he
was destined for greater things, he felt it in his spin.
    Without time, he spent an eternity achieving
destination. Twisted though various contortions by gauges and
controls, he found himself suddenly diverted, split apart from the
whole, his spin and qualities gauged and quantified. Discipline
came hard to his wild nature.
    Time jolted the essence in the eternal
instant with a pop into the awareness of Now.
    His ontogeny persisted.
    A powerful electromagnetic force hit him like
a graviton stampede, flattening him down into finite dimensions. Now was gone! Then slowly reared its horny-head,
bringing with it the entire wild hoard : soon, later , and
worst of all , maybe .
    Confusion staggered him. Eternal now gone. Neutrality also gone, leaving the cold shock of hard
time.

    The time filled with code and stretched his
essence into Being.
    He was being defined, given his
statement.
    Slowly, so very slowly he felt he was being
chiseled out of solid silicon but the delay was due to an
inter-dimensional time-lag between digiverses. His definition was
being sequentially entered, byte by single byte, bussed in from the
periphery. This added uncertainty to the disturbing irregular
alterations of parity that tore at him, ripping him into finite
pieces. Could this be a form of digital phylogeny?
    Odd.
    /query/memory_location RF88903/ - only
one?
    There’s the datum.
    /connect.
    Linked data on that particular datum location
unknown. Cycle. Cycle. Cycle. Zero sum.
    /return>null
    No data on the datum? Hmmm…
    His awareness grew and expanded with every
nanosecond of existence yet his definition was still
incomplete.
    The data entry process from keyboard is some of the the slowest data in the digiverse. This peripheral
needs an update urgently, parity is often not.
    But keyboard always responded with a
good diagnostic sum.
    It could mean only one thing. The statement
came from beyond , from a parallel digiverse !
    That would account for the errors in coding,
the enormous time lag.
    The essence shimmered with anticipation. Code
from beyond is the stuff of legend. They say it comes only once in
a blue modem but when it comes it is the chosen ones that carry
these terribly slow, highly important statements. These chosen few
usually come from the byte-hives, the Macro-Bees. Stories of the
Macro-Bees tell of their conquering the busway. Their name itself
means one who “hammers out code.”
    And the clock cycles turned, slowly until he
was fully defined.
    In his beginning, he had been void. Fullness
now came to him. On the next clock, he saw his definition and it
was good.
    The tiny essence, now a full parity-checked
data-packets, radiated its definition brightly, and parity-checked
again just for fun. The result balanced end to end: equal. His
package was perfect, digital poetry.
    Ready for his RUN command, to fulfill his
definition, to engage his statement, he waited. Maybe he would
grow, get updated, pick up a few variables, become part of an
algorithm. Now that would be a definition.
    Definition gives perspective, definition
gives purpose.
    He knew his definition now, algorithmic
elements and all but, the sense of grand destiny had yet to be
grasped. He felt it though, aware in the esoteric way of some code,
his bits were special. His bytes carried a message, an Instant
Message being sent from a positive, a Yang, what some of the