I watch this new creature unwillingly birthed to this old world walk in geometric patterns as she takes in information, digests it, interprets it. She walks north, then abruptly swings an imaginary corner and heads east, and then again south, and finally connects the square at a chimerical point in the west. And then it starts all over, but this time counter-clockwise. Some days she follows an imaginary spiral–a natural Fibonacci sequence coded somewhere in her DNA. Some nights she walks parallel highways with me. I can sometimes see her through tightly-stretched, thin membranes…biological cauls…superstrings. The abrupt corners she takes now are patterned bars and spaces and numerals embedded in a ruthless memory not at all hasty to deliver a fortune cookie finish: she will die tragically in an elevator shaft at the age of thirty-four, while attempting to jump a mere four feet down to the safety of the 5th floor from the malfunctioning, immobile lift.