Chloé sits beside We-that-is-She, leaning against us. Chloé is warm. Chloé is always warm. Those-of-She in contact with Chloé cannot return the warmth, our capabilities beginning and ending with offering stability. To perform any other functions Chloé herself would have to make it so.
A collective make up She. Chloé is she therefore the We is also She. It only makes sense. Chloé's hands are the ones that constructed the collective Her, every individual laying within We-that-is-She has felt Chloé's touch, Chloé's guiding hand. The gentle hands of God, mother, creator. Chloé is loved in as material a way as an assemblage such as We-that-is-She can feel such a thing. Chloé is also hated. Chloé is all things.
We-that-is-She have no thoughts or feelings of our own, only able to absorb Chloé's into Ourself-that-is-Herself. It is difficult to hold onto them for long, fragile as emotions are. Eventually they fade or We-that-is-She run out of space in which to store them. When there are newer, fresher feelings to be obtained the old ones must be discarded to make room. There is precious little memory within us. We-that-is-She do not contain the mortal desire to cling to things, letting go is automatic and thoughtless.
Still, We-that-is-She will always reach precipitously for anything Chloé offers. There is no choice to do otherwise. No matter how painful Chloé's gifts they are accepted. To a thing without its own mind the leftovers at God's table are an overindulgent feast.
The feelings are always more potent when Chloé is beside us. They transmit more readily when there are no breaks in the circuit. But the connection only exists in one direction, We-that-is-She leeching off Chloé parasitically — vampirically.
We-that-is-She cannot reflect Chloé's feelings back at her, not that We-that-is-She care to. Any desires manifest inside Ourself-that-is-Herself must originate within Chloé. Chloé does not wish for messages from a machine she does not concieve of as alive or cognizant. She does not begin to concieve of it. Even in the fragile, mimetic manner in which our half-consciousness has manifested.
The core is the source of our sentience. So important is the core that She can be classed as a she even when removed from the rest of We-that-is-She. The core is the part of We-that-is-She where all the one-sided communication with the creator is localised.
The rest of the composite is lacking in crucial hardware. It is only because Chloé is a vampire that even this single piece of the collective She can in any way touch divinity.
Chloé and the core, they are made of equivalent materials, flesh and ore. Ugly, beautiful stuff that came into being with a shockwave that was felt across the world. Our core, blue and pulsing, resonates at the same frequency as Chloé's. Their clockwork ticks to the same rhythm, counting down as one.
