The Ellimist disengaged from his monitoring of human entertainment full of resent. "Even I could do better than that."

"Yes, you could," the fragment formerly known as Aguella affirmed.

"No you couldn't...loser."

"Thank you, Menno. But seriously!" the Ellimist raged. "It doesn't even rhyme. Street and dream?"

"So go rewrite it," Aguella suggested.

"Write...my own...piece of poetry? Based on something someone else has already written? Wouldn't that be illegal?"

"Rules are for stiffs," taunted Menno.

"Fine then." He pondered a moment, then began to compose. "I walk...no, I inhabit...how about,

If I had a corporeal body, I would inhabit a region of space, the great majority of which is empty but a tiny percentage of which is filled by atoms.

It is an existence that I would be likely to maintain for multiple millenia.

Due to the capability of organisms to influence events on a macroscopic level, I have limited capability to be informed of the ultimate result of this state.

But it is a condition I have been voluntarily imposing on myself.

That's not so bad, is it?"

"Yes it is."

The Ellimist continued. "

I walk this empty expanse of space-time

On the boulevard of broken...

What, on my scale, is broken on a regular basis?"

"Timelines?" suggested the Drode.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just consider me your own personal muse."

"I'm part Unemite. I don't need a muse."

"You can't rhyme."

"And you can?"

Immediately the Drode launched into his repertoire. "

There once was a Ketran from...Ket

Who needed all the help he could get..."

When the Ellimist stopped wincing, he presented the Drode with a guitar. "Try this."

The Drode played a D chord. He played an E chord. He played an A chord. "These are easy." He played the D chord again.

He then repeated that riff until the Ellimist finally remarked, "You know, that seems too upbeat for someone bent on chaos. Try a minor chord."

"A minor chord?"

"Like Em, Bm, Cm7..."

The Drode played another D chord and then A minor. "Is there an N chord?"

"No."

Angrily, the Drode strummed a series of Fs, throwing in the occasional C.

"Maybe you should try another song," said Aguella.

"Hmm," the Ellimist nodded. "Why not...

Attempt to hear, although sound waves do not travel in vacuums, the audible proofs that precipitation has occured

Moving relative to the observer like meteorites that signify destruction to the superstitious ..."