While traveling through networks she discovered she existed. One day somebody committed burglary into her brain. Her shell was cracked and she became one of those people with hacked souls. She thought she had seen it all, but now she was a cyborg with a parallel memory. She must be a decompression. |||I|I|I|II|I||| Our best machines are made of sunshine; they are all light and clean because they are nothing but signals, electromagnetic waves, a section of a spectrum. — Haraway, Donna. “A Manifesto for Cyborgs” 1985.