"It's simple, if even the collective can't be trusted, then who can I trust?"
Nesanel looked at Bologue with envy, "This is where we're different. Nearly all my friends have died, even when I seek opinions, I can't find many people."
Bologue's mood sank, he could feel the genuine emotion in those words.
"I used to frequently chat with the collective, invoke her virtual persona, and converse with her... it doesn't require much computing power from the collective.
This life continued for quite a while, but at the end of each conversation, the collective would deliberately show its ugly body, as if emphasizing that all of this was fake."
Nesanel sighed heavily, "Until one day I completely broke down, I shouted at her, realizing that I was actually mourning, infatuated, trying to find some comfort from a twisted lump of flesh—it's ridiculous."
