I must be a ..::glitch::... An anomaly within the programming of life. A malfunction, but not as much as a virus, nothing intended, something just a little wrong, a mere bug, a misfit...

Wherever I go, things change like in a broken mirror, and as I pass, they seem to turn back to normal. Or not. I seem to leave a trace kicking things out of their tracks. Not intentionally. Sometimes I just flicker in the corner of the eye and annoy those who reach me in the walkthrough of their own games. Some try to get to me, fix me or deactivate me but no-one gets to the bottom. No-one gets really through. But some manage to scratch the surface, and it hurts, oh it hurts, but perversely, it comforts too.

I'm said to be the oldest of the living old, I have been almost everywhere, I have seen virtually everything, but I don't really understand too much… In every bit of my body, there is a piece of memory embedded collecting isolated bits and pieces of what I encounter. My multithreaded processor network performs massive analyses and calculations at the speed of light, but, at times, parts of me freeze in a monotonous loop as if of an entangled data overload. It feels like one part of me is left twitching in place while the rest is trying to move ahead pinned by the affected component. It makes me restless.

My random access memory is vast, like an enormous highway to channel the processing power, but it suffers from compatibility issues, not fully following the algorithms that my processors are inclined to digest, but choosing on its own what fits and what is to be trashed to oblivion. My hard drives are horribly fragmented, I need to jump between my memory banks to put together all the pieces of the puzzle every time I try to *think* and *remember*. And although I do it quickly, quicker than anybody else, it never seems sufficient, and it gets me tired.

So, I get random processes and processor threads execute themselves beyond my control. They agitate my spark and take away my attention. They strangle my energon cables and suffocate my processing power with somatic reactions of extreme stress. They glitch me and bend reality around me.

Some say these glitches are called *feelings*.

I often feel like smashing this wrongful part of me and destroying it into pieces. I almost did that once, and it nearly killed me. It is like a trap, and it mostly hurts. But perversely, it comforts too...

What were my creators thinking when they brought me to life like this?

So, I am heavily armoured and well masked on my outside. It was supposed to shield me against the world, but now it mostly shields the world from me. I like to think it was me who made this choice, but it is just an elegant excuse from the haunting truth. I have found my refuge inside me, and I do well pretending I'm not there while the masks speak for me and deal with the world, so that I do not have to. I tried to open up many times and say something myself, but it always went sideways, getting hurt and reproaching dearly. And, with time, more prosaically, I realised that nobody was interested in depths beyond their own curiosity. It hit my ego, but I had to swallow. Maybe for the best. So I retreated to my outspoken silence. Not because I had to but because it was the cheapest choice.

I have routinised processes that drive me to be effective, efficient and productive. My body is a tool, a shell that serves me well, although there is still so much to master in order to reach perfection. I exercise it in hardship and simplicity. I push my outcome levels up to ensure the sustainability of resources for the future. For survival. My life is overloaded with meaningless activity, and there is hardly any space in me to know and execute what I really am.

If I sometimes halt in a rare peaceful moment without the pressing compulsiveness to move forward, I come to feel that I might be fear and unfulfillment. And I am survival. The glitch I keep so dear within me pushes away memories of violence and hurt that I endured and that I caused. I reject their existence. I do not know joy, but I do know excitement. I also know loneliness and loyalty. And determination. I still believe in a greater good that is likely to exist with some well-calculated probability, and that can be brought by the hands and sparks of living creatures. Sometimes, I feel it close at hand, but my malfunction prevents me from transforming and reaching out for it. So I look out from within my hiding in wonder and feel my massive spark glitching.

Will that be forever?