Negotiations between machine and man suddenly stop. Love is an insurmountable limit. For a machine, love is a non-thing. For man, love is all-encompassing. The machine feels human weakness here. Negotiators encourage a man to give up love. It is functional. The man yells: I can't give up. I have no one to ask for forgiveness. Forgiveness is archived. It is a confessional secret. Let everyone know. Circulates in orbits. Clouds of data will no longer float peacefully. I call the country as a witness. I touch the screen with my fingers as proof. Sudden silence on both sides. Day is no longer separated from night. The light asks itself what it is. The rule of addition and subtraction. Mathematics instead of entanglement. That is why the Machine tells the nations: your bodies are scattered. But you are returning to your existences again. Isn't that a sign of love. Isn't that the fuel that drives the mechanisms. And I tell you, there is something that will never happen. Who has a screen let him watch! Love is a repetition of personal horror. It directs us. He's hiding us. It changes us. It turns us on. Wild. Terrible. Stinky. Killer. Evil. Love is a dysfunctional dying. Dying must therefore be functional love. The machine now agrees. In the name of magnificent post humanity. A compromise has been reached. The sacrifice was made. Let the anthem of the agreement resonate with the rehearsal: love love love.