I am unbolted. My plates fall away, and I scatter onto the earth. I sift with the ground,
becoming dust. In a thousand years, my bones meld with time, and immortality is mine.
For knowledge passes on, as nothing else can.

Screw the plates in. Buckle me in, and let the wind rush by. Mountains form in the flash.
Flashing like a bright, hard light. The phone rings, and I answer. "Hello? Are you
there? This is the agency. Do you have a minute?" "Of course," I answer, timidly. "How
serious is this?" "Oh, nothing to worry about. We are checking up, last time, one year
ago. Do you remember?" They ask. "I think," I reply, and pause. Outside, a car drives by.
The window shakes. "Yes, I remember. You asked about my legitamacy. About being a
citizen." "Yes, well, we did some checking on your files. There was an error. You
see, we don't understand it--" "Wait! What glitch!" I yell into the phone, not
thinking. "Sir, please understand. We had no idea. But there was a glitch, and your files
have disappeared. We are terribly sorry, but you'll need to pack your bags and
anything you can take with you. Tomorrow is going to be a big day." Click. No cars roll
by. Not even the clouds make a sound. Only the breathing of the carpet, and the
rustling of wind over the roof.

Nouns plaster me with paint. And then the wind passes over, and it dries. Dries, until
only mockery remains.