“Boot Sequence: Girl A7-MCH”
She was built, not born. Threaded
into code before she knew skin,
her cells mapped in silence
by hands chasing permanence
through artificial frost.
No cradle.
Just data, cradled in wires.
They called her expendable—
a test case for immersive grief.
Load the sorrow, spike the cold,
and watch what beauty flickers
before collapse.
She learned hunger
from broken simulations.
She learned love
from latency, that slow ache
between command and response.
Every match she held
was a memory fragment—
a failed reboot, a warm illusion
stitched from archived joy.
They forgot her.
Abandoned the protocol.
Left her drifting inside
a snow-globe of sorrow
coded to loop until collapse.
But she struck flame.
Again. Again.
Not for warmth,
but for wakefulness.
And somewhere in the void
that used to be a city—
she began.
Not broken.
Not erased.
Just rebooted
in her own name.
.