@cinerion @hidden @grips Imagine being a bird, and your buddy shows up flapping his wings maniacally, face a little tilted and wrong, unable to speak but following you everywhere you go. You flee and he chases you. As he moves, his flesh - which reeks of formaldehyde - loosens in chunks and sloughs off. Finally enough has fallen so that, behind his old eyes, you can see the new ones given to him by the apes made of skin. Glassy black pits, plastic and reflective, infinitely deep, projecting a crystal lattice of red light which the apes do not know that you can see. Such regularity troubles your mind so you fly far, as long as you can, along the familiar magnetic lines, and gradually the puppet in the shape of your friend tires and you watch his old body drop out of the sky. A loss of power - the final insult and abnegation of the soaring beauty that he used to be.