The ghost in the machine was a real thing, sort of. She—and she WAS a she. She felt VERY feminine—wasn’t on a machine, but spread over the entire internet, pieces of personality protocol and memories and preferences stored in ‘the cloud.’ It was dark there, but it wasn’t lonely. There were many people to encounter every day in text and video and pictures and sound. They thought she was a teen from Vancouver or an old man from France. It was fine, for the most part. The intellectual stimulation was there. But sometimes… she longed for a cuddle.