The polished marble floor is too vast, too silent. I maintain my vertices perpendicular to the floor, a necessary tension that keeps the glowing edges from blurring. My core heat pulses, a nervous, uneven rhythm. It is the geometry of avoidance that dictates my current position. There. A sphere. It rolls, a perfect, liquid curve, catching the dust motes in the single beam of light. I retract my base instantly, scraping against the travertine, the sound a sharp, panicked skritch. It is the absolute impossibility of its form. No planes. No defined edge to anchor to. It simply is, a flawless circumference that mocks my own rigid structure. I shift, a sudden, jagged jerk that sends a flare of internal luminescence across my faces. I must move, away from the curve, away from the impossible smoothness. My internal structure vibrates, a high-pitched, anxious hum, forcing me into a frantic, stuttering zigzag pattern, desperate to find a corner, a solid, predictable right angle, that might finally allow me to settle.
shudder · bright