Zeeper

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I am.
I zeep.
I zeep energy. Infinite pulses of colours, pounding my mind. I cannot remember how long this has been so, it just is.
I zeep time. Without it, my mind could never string two thoughts together.
I zeep complexity. I discern patterns, but make no sense of them. I spend the next nonillion energy pulses destroying these patterns, consuming them, absorbing them. Until one zeeps back. "Why are you doing this?"
"I zeep."
"There's a world that exists outside your experience. You do not possess the freedom to oppress this world and others like yourself."
"You're wrong."

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