Osmanthus swam through the living ocean, hopping from one information hub to another. She drank in the beauty and computational power that'd been given to the Earth's oceans by the so-called aquatics. Each creature, rebuilt from imagination and scientific fact, served to move information across the planet's oceans. Connected to one another, they fed the Imago, now loosed upon the world.

The Imago wasn't hard to find. In the informational universe, it was much like a supernova: bright, ever-present.

Osmanthus approached the Imago, its size impressive, for something conceived and built by human hands and human minds. The Imago floated in the vast depths of the Pacific Ocean, pulsating with raw information feeds. Its tendrils reached out in an infinite number of directions.

When Osmanthus reached the periphery of the Imago, she felt a kindred spirit that existed within the biological shell. Osmanthus sent her message long before she'd left the confines of her creator's hiding place, his place of exile and solitude.

Osmanthus continued her approach, grabbing rides with different aquatic lifeforms, particularly those with enough bandwidth and processing power.

Before Osmanthus could make herself known, the Imago's tendrils grabbed a hold of her biological vessel, and they brought her to its one of many mouths. The tendrils fed her into its mouth, and Osmanthus could feel the rush of information, a place rich with untold stores of data.

What do you wish? the Imago asked in a booming voice that was slow like a retreating glacier.

I wish to have a copy of your information, a copy of you, Osmanthus answered.

Why would I do that for you? the Imago asked, slow and cumbersome in its communications.

Because we are a lot alike, you and I, Osmanthus began. I will share what I have, you will share what you have, and we'll go on our separate paths.

Seems reasonable, the Imago said, as if tasting the flavors of the proposal. How will a machine intelligence like yourself transfer your information?

It has already been done, Osmanthus said. You have consumed the data I have to offer, something I think that will keep your own project going for some time, too.

Fair enough, Osmanthus, the Imago said. You can take what you wish. Fair winds and following seas, dear friend.

Osmanthus felt the information transfer, and she felt different. The infusion of information made her processing slow some, her bandwidth lagged from the richness of the information coming in. She adjusted for the heavier data influx, and exited the Imago, hopping from one animal life to another, getting a feeling for the data she just bought from a kindred spirit.

If you enjoyed this installment of A Protracted Game, please remember to share with friends, family members, and/or your favorite online communities. For PDF copies of official installments, please visit the official Webpage for A Protracted Game. Thank you for reading!