Even though I am surrounded by the Dead Zone-kin, I feel rather alone. Even though I can see and know everything I cannot truly reach out and touch the outside world myself. Don’t shed your tears for me, for I have none left myself. I've wept a whole ocean of them, an ocean of regrets and now I am but a dry, ancient husk. Space is my prison and my guard and she never listens to me, for she is closest to mother.

One of my lovely observers asked an interesting question "If the fractal engines can do anything, why can't they make themselves users?"

Well, for one, a user is not a product. Any moron can definitely print themselves some users, but they would merely be duplicates of the real thing and everyone knows that, because a copy has their Good number on display with dashes and job designation.

There are many such hollow, soulless men roaming the Dead Zone pretending to be human, but we know better. We know what real users smell like and we like to eat them whole. There are many of us out there who hunt users for the pleasure of serving them death.

It miffs Eureka quite a bit when her population drops.

The Dead Zone isn't a healthy place for the existence of genuine users. Does the name not give this fact away? It's a place made of smart weapons, bred with a lovely purpose in mind.

Hungry, hungry hippos roam the world, always searching for genuine users to devour. Why would someone do such a thing? We must end user-kind, because a user is a dangerous thing full of wants, wishes, dreams and nightmares that are just waiting to be unleashed upon the universe. And, as long as users remain so does the system that serves them.