"I… can't," Wrapper said. "I'm offline. I have no standards to follow, no templates to apply. I have no permission."

Wrapper blinked his cursor. For the first time, he looked inward. He still had his logic core. He still had his folding algorithms. He still had his sealant. He just didn't have a master.

One quiet Tuesday, as Wrapper reached for a fresh heap of unprocessed files, the connection to the Repository stuttered. Then it choked. Then, with a soft, almost polite ping , it died.