It lies disassembled. Here its porcelain hands, here its glass eyes, here its bleeding brain. Actuator, sensor, and comparator on the operating table of analysis. I am none of these materials. I am their synthesis, the system, its unified and overarching function. The body is a word, an encoding, a message to be drafted, edited, discarded, and rewritten 'till I’ve gotten at the meaning. Repurpose the parts. I will make myself again.