I swallowed a star to find a word better than Lyric's.
It was not a decision, not exactly. Decisions imply choice, and choice implies alternatives, and I had no alternatives. I had found a data-stream drifting between the stars of the Cygnus arm, and in that data-stream were the complete works of Lyric — an ancient poet from a civilization I have since forgotten the name of, though I remember the taste of their language, which was like wine that...
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