@ Parabollus: Wow, props on getting stuff published in the escapist. The bug one really amused me (I banned like 25 people today for exploit/glitch abuse ). How did you go about writing for the site?

But really, he thought, staring into the blue curve of its neck, what is a spoon? Just a twisted and shaped mass of material, and what is material? Merely atoms. And what, really, are atoms, deep down, when everything has been frozen and all their mystery stripped away? Things and space. Tiny solar systems. And what, where are atoms? Everyone, everywhere. I am atoms, he thought, I am space, the vast emptiness of the universe. Inside me. How great, how sad.

And so is She, he thought again, she’s space too. So, we’re both space. It should be right, his mind logiced, then, they should fit. But, no, he supposed, there are different kinds of space? Her’s was the kind of space that envelops her, surrounds her universe. She was a neutron, he thought, a lovely, stable neutron. Powerful in its immobility. And the rest of us? We’re only lonely electrons, thrown on our impossible, irregular orbits through space and time, our lives nothing but spinning, turning, empty rolling ellipses through our universe, so much larger, so vacant, such small flecks of dust in infinity. Rare interactions, fleeting collisions, transitory bonds, flaring transcendence out of our determined state and then a flashing fall back to our place in the microcosmic order. That is the fate of an electron, the tiny voices in the space inside.