Topher, really, you're spoiling the fun. Aren't you supposed to be the genius, the creator, the all-mighty, all-powerful god? The man behind the gray-matter curtain? I'm disappointed you haven't come to the conclusion yourself.

[ He becomes smug, the corner of his lip pulling upward for a cruel smirk. ]

Or is it that the created has surpassed the creator? [ He tongues the tip of his teeth, enjoying the taste of those words -- being able to gloat and prove just how much he has ascended. ]

Fine, fine, fine. I'll give you a hint. [ Alpha leans back against the wall, folding his arms over his chest and studying Topher with consideration -- or perhaps more cat-like; a predator watching prey. ]

Imagine you are a synapse -- a single synapse lost in the sea of many synapses. Only now, you are connected to a network.