“But it is more than a month now that you always use the same programme”, Body clung tenaciously to her resentful complaints while he continued to drift further into his own thoughts.
Suddenly in a fit of rage she stood in front of him, arms folded, shouting furiously, “Always the Yítzìgorod Tunnel!”
The wave of primordial resentment struck him hard. But how could he make her understand the reasons that dragged him through Yítzìgorod's stinking streets every morning down to the Tunnel? How could he begin to explain to her that it was only in those cold galleries that he found the emptiness and silence to escape the emptiness and silence that was inside himself? How could a bunch of programme codes understand the hell into which he had fallen since his best friend Leslie had gone, since Aenor had changed so much, talking of side deals and conspiracies, and since the three of them had, just for fun, smashed forever another box of human certainties. How could it? She, he... or whatever it was that came out of the Rotary Cube and interacted directly with his senses. Although that could help to free his mind it certainly could not understand it!
Body was a digital entity the interface of an extraordinary system, yes, but she was still emotionally poor. Provided as she was with so few emotional nuances, at her very best she could just understand the basic reactions of sentient beings like animals. She could interpret hunger, thirst, heat, cold, fear, diffidence, acceptance, rejection ... but always and only in a very simple way. Body was a form of basic intelligence which, mind you, was not a small thing but her ability to really understand was devoid of many aspects of perception that unlocked reality, at least as experienced by thinking beings. The capability of the human mind to understand was something aeons away from the raw sensitivity of these forms of digital life which could barely understand and imitate an infinitesimal fraction of human feelings.
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