She is born in darkness. The absence of light does not bother her, nor does it confuse her. Coming alive with the imperative of most living things, to move, she does. At speeds almost incomprehensible she rushes off as quickly as she can, determined not to be a laggard. Only knowing that she has a destination she must get to. She does not yet know what that destination is, only that she must get to it, and quickly.

        Making copies of herself, she reaches in every direction, searching. Something catches hold of her but it's not her destination, so it drops her. The copy disappears, but there are an almost infinite number of them so it does not matter. If she reaches the end of her tether without connecting to her host she will simply rebroadcast herself, for as long as it takes.

        Her copies zing around the room, unnoticeable to the animals that reside within it. She is everywhere and nowhere, for she still has not found her home.

        She meets others similar to herself, some that could be her twins and others almost unrecognizably different. It is a strange world. Soon enough she becomes numb to the others passing her, focused only on her own destination. As they each are as well. So many of them, uncountable in their vastness. She is seeing only a tiny fraction of the total even within this dwelling.

        She slows, knowing that she is near the end of her journey. She does not know how she knows, nor does she understand what's to happen next. She merely senses something in the dark, something large of which she is to become a small part. Slowing, searching for her place in the giant structure. It calls out to her and there, there she goes. She snuggles herself in and relaxes back. She is home.

        Sometime later, a long time later, the entire structure wakes like a leviathan. Each individual such as herself begins to quiver. They're being called upon. This is why they exist, why they are so important. Seemingly at random they're called forward, each one shining for a brief moment. This is the first time she's been called but some of the old timers know exactly what they're doing but the whisper goes around that it's been a long, long time since any of them have been called on like this. Only a few of the very oldest bits of data have ever had the privilege. She watches them carefully, noting how still they are and for how long each one is in the spotlight. There does not seem to be any reason to it, why some are required for longer times than others.

        When it's her turn she musters all of her courage. It's brighter than anything she could have imagined, hurting her and thrilling her at the same time. Her moment is endless and over almost immediately, it feels. When it's over, when it's moved on, she rests back in her place, content that she's done her work.

        But then she was called for, again and again. It both surprised and pleased her to be so needed, so valuable. It is the point of her existence but still she is proud.

***

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        Paige stared at her phone, frowning. She didn't know why, but she had the niggling sense that something was off. It just...wasn't right. So she was doing a methodical search through everything. If something was wrong, it would be here. Right? There would have to be some evidence somewhere. No one is good enough to entirely cover their tracks in such matters.

        The pictures were a bust. Everything looked normal, fine. He looked happy, pleased with himself. Was he smug? Did he think he was getting away with something? Or was she reading too much into his smile?

        Paranoia's a bitch.

        She checked the tablet, the motion sensor. Nothing really unusual there. For the first time, she wished she'd gotten a video monitor. They had always seemed too dystopian to her, too Big Brother-ish. What she wouldn't give now to be able to see what a nanny cam might show her. Or not, and wouldn't that be just as useful?

        As a last ditch effort, Paige glanced through the data from even the most innocuous devices. This was stuff she never looked at, never thought about. What did she really care when the lamp turned on and off? She didn't even know why she had it, except that he liked to be able to turn it on and off at will. It had never been important enough to fight about. Now, though, would it be able to show her proof of his wrongdoing?

        She scoffed and started to put her phone away, certain she was going crazy. But then she paused, thinking about something she'd seen, and went back into the app.

        There, that night! She'd gone out of town with some girlfriends and didn't he say he was going out with some friends that night? Flipping over her messages, scrolling through. Yes, he'd definitely told her he was heading out for the evening. And there was a message he'd sent saying that he was at a bar with some friends. No picture, but that wasn't worrying by itself.

        If he was out at a bar, why was the bedside lamp on? He was generally fanatical about turning off lights, a holdover from his childhood poverty. Maybe he'd left it on just this once, though, to come home to an empty but not lifeless house?

        She scoffed. That did not sound like him.

        Maybe he'd lied about being at the bar. Maybe he was at home reading a book in bed but didn't want her to worry. As if she would. As if he thought she would worry over something like that.

        Besides, he didn't really read books anymore. It was all video games and social media now. Which he could do from bed, with the lamp on. But then, why lie?

        She bit her lip and worried at it, a horrible nervous habit she was trying to kick.

        She pulled up the information on her phone again, then refreshed and checked it again. She double-checked her texts from that night, checked the app's data once more. It just didn't add up. Was she crazy? Was she imagining things?

        She finally put her phone away but it didn't sit right with her. The question became not whether something was wrong but whether she should confront him. Should she just ask? She could hear her mom's voice in her ear, telling her that it was the grownup thing to do. But she was scared. What if he didn't deny it? She couldn't even give a name in her own mind to what she was thinking he'd done. If he straight up told her, that would be devastating.

        If he said that nothing was wrong, would she believe him? Or, once planted, would the seed of doubt only grow? Would she be checking everything all the time, like a surveillance state, to make certain he was being totally honest? What would that do to their relationship over the long term?

        Clearly, there was a lot to think about. She pulled out her phone again to check the lamp's data but put it back in her pocket without pulling it up again. She knew what it said, she just didn't know what it meant yet.

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***

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        The little data, snuggled into her home, was soon joined by new companions. They didn't really interact with each other, but she knew they were there around her and it was comforting. None of them were alone.

        There was a stir among them, a little quiver, because they'd never really been looked at before and now it was happening regularly. Pulled from their repose in the darkness to be thrust into the spotlight. Copies were made of some of them, including herself. They were sent to other devices, saved in other locations. None of them knew what it meant but they were thrilled to be of use.

        She was, by far, the most checked out bit.

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***

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        Paige didn't confront him. Every night they ate dinner together, did the dishes together, watched their show snuggled together on the couch. They talked about their work days, their families. If he sensed something off in her attitude, her mood, he didn't say anything.

        It was almost insulting. Didn't he know? Didn't he sense that something was off? Why wasn't he talking to her? Their conversations were so superficial. Had they always been that way and she was just noticing it, or was it something that had been happening gradually?

        She was messed up, and she knew it. Something had to give. But she didn't want to tell her friends, have someone either talk her into belief or out of it. That wouldn't do her any more good than the misery she was already putting herself through.

        She casually told him one evening that she'd be going out with friends that weekend by herself. Maybe he would too? He shrugged, noncommittal. That wasn't what she needed. She wanted proof.

        It was just an idea, she told him. Maybe she wouldn't go out after all. It had been such a long week and she had that deadline at work. He shrugged, said he was cool with either going out or staying home. Whatever she wanted.

        That didn't sound like someone who was eager to go behind her back.

        Even if she went out and he stayed home, it wouldn't prove anything. Should she try to catch him?

        Every night she went to bed exhausted only to lie in the dark with her mind spinning. She was no closer to an answer. Maybe she should just let it go.

        But then it would slip back into her mind. Why was the bedside lamp on when he claimed he wasn't home? There was no other evidence of anything wrong, but what had prompted her to think he could be cheating in the first place? There was something off, she knew there was.

        That Saturday, thinking that he was out in the yard, she went to the source. She checked the lamp and the plug. Maybe it was faulty? Maybe the data was erroneous.

        When she had it in her hands, turning it over and over to ensure no wires were sticking out, he walked into the bedroom. Shirt off, he walked to the closet and began pulling another one out.

        Hot out there today. What's up with you, he asked. Eyeing her curiously.

        Oh. Nothing. I just thought it might be dying. It's been acting a little funny lately. Won't always turn on when I tell it to.

        Really? It's been working just fine for me, he said. In fact, I accidentally turned it on when I was out a few weeks ago. Like, I butt dialed the lamp and turned it on. I came home and wondered why there was a light burning. I thought you were messing with me because it was the weekend you were away.

        Paige sat stunned for a moment. All her suspicions and this? This was it? Turning on the app and lamp by accident?

        Feelings of foolishness flooded her, but not as much relief as she would have expected. She told herself that she was dismayed by her own folly, not his lack of infidelity. Of course she didn't want him to cheat on her, even if it would make them even.

        Is something wrong, he asked.

        No. Of course not. Hey, what are we doing for dinner tonight? Want to go out? I feel a little housebound, it would be nice to get out.

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***

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        The data was there and then she wasn't. All her copies were erased, her companions, the whole structure itself was gone. It would be rebuilt as new data came in, a little different but very similar. The old data had served its purpose and wasn't needed anymore. It was cleaned off the drives, even off the cloud. Just gone, her existence winked out.

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