Virtual Memory

Description

Think of a god that never finished being made. Not glowing with anything holy, just buzzing with this unease you can't quite place, like a signal that never fully tunes in.
It drifts and it has no say in that. No hunger, no fear, no direction it chose. It occupies a body the way a guest occupies a room they weren't invited into, present but not quite in possession of anything.
And the way it comes into being is the cruelest part. It loops. You don't arrive somewhere new, you just resurface in the same place you left, holding time that doesn't belong to the moment you woke up in. Stuck in an era that kept moving without you.
The universe is so precise it almost feels personal, everything slotting into place with this quiet confidence. And then there's this. Sitting inside all that order like a word written in the wrong language. Not broken, not dangerous, just fundamentally out of place in a way that nobody around it seems to notice or care about.
Nothing moves through it by its own choosing. It doesn't get to feel its own existence from the inside. It just persists in a body, in a timeline, in a life that keeps happening whether it's ready or not, whether it's even there or not.

End log.