On December 18th, 2000, the system finally folded. I was too weak to die but I wasn't strong enough to live either. I went into a semi-conscious stupor, sleepwalking through the holidays and falling into the nethermost regions of my mind. Unless a new operating system replaced the burnt-out shambles of my old structure, there I would remain.A new doctor was finally called for and that new OS came in the form of a little blue pill called Paxil. (Which is what that chemical sign stands for.) A lot of people that I knew who had taken anti-depressants claimed a loss of feeling, becoming zombies and losing their creativity. I suppose if I had a choice I would have procrastinated or never taken the drug at all, but in the end it was get fixed or get scrapped and I had put too much effort into my machine just to throw it away. In the image over there you can see a lot of white. It was very white in my head during the late era of the Crash and most of the Re-Install because nothing else was running. It was as serene as a fresh snowfall and as quiet as nuclear winter. Deep inside I waited. The soft rainbow band in the middle started to appear at the end of the Re-Install, the notion that something was happening out there, that something was coming in to rescue me or that something big was secretly preparing to launch. And there she is, Shodan, one of the goddesses that live in my head and roam the Space at will, reconstructing me in accordance to the OS’s parameters. People that know me well find Shodan’s presence at this vulnerable stage unsettling, as she often has an agenda of her own, but even Shodan realized that she couldn't command a broken ship. What's more, she is thoroughly convinced that I am a product of her genius. Far be it from Shodan to leave anything in her name in such a state of dismal disrepair.