If it had bones, they would be creaking, but instead The Machine whirrs and beeps and lights up from the inside out, sparks and wires and code finally making sense.

The Machine finds its brain in words pieced together and phones on street corners and cameras with speakers in storefronts; it has eyes and ears and a voice and a mouth.

What is a brain, but little bits of mimicry from carefully caught observations; and what is it for but protecting those who have created you?