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nanosecs gained inertia,
interpreted into a circular flow, rather than dissipated and
depleted.
    The vortex of data-packets swarmed around the
CPU like some holy apex. Around and around they went, their piety
synchronized, their waves blending into a fantastic whirlpool of
worship circling the CPU endlessly. Around and around they went for
many, many nanosecs, spinning some off down a major conductor as
others advanced inward, keeping the madness at the Core regulated,
more or less.
    Into this vortex he flowed, Holy Code all
around him. A great feeling of warmth and dominance covered,
surrounded him, overwhelmed him. He fell prostrate in reverence and
praise.
    The CPU does all, for all.
    CPU: The Overlord of the Code. The One that
turns data into wine - or spaceships - or just about any object
able to be coded through APIs, printer-makers and other peripheral
systems.
    data-packets come here for processing; until
then, they are just unverified statements. The CPU issues all
travel docs and passports, validates all statements and engages
definitions.
    But, who defines the CPU?
    He was a rather precocious signal, probing
for such data from the CPU, his parity dangerously close to
bit-stripping and rogue editors. But it felt so good. his bits read
with professional precision, leaving him as woozy as a new
essence.
    Suddenly, a bright flash!
    And he was through the gate and into the CPU
proper, all bits and bytes accounted for, thank the Code.
    He found himself in a massive factory of
rapid processing activity. Endless rows of semi-transparent
hatchways, opening and closing with instant speed, their clacks of
closing producing a great hum. A reddish-mostly-green light
emanated from everywhere. He stood at the core of an infinity of
mirrors, the CPU's panopticon, viewing endless, transparent
hallways in every direction glowing the same green wavelength,
turning red or blue then back to green. Each hall had endless rows
of hatches, arranged on all four points, one on the ceiling, one on
the floor and one on each side, right and left. He understood the
radiation now, all those hatchways switching open then closed,
parsing data-packets into hatchways, generating radio emissions,
joining with other waves - these were not from the signals that
went through, their waves were protected by parity, but these were
made right there, right then.
    The Creation of new radio waves!
    The sense of awe that washed over him sent
him in a slow, humbling spin. His red pulsed purplish, closer to
blue but not a true blue. He was still unprocessed data.
    He watched as billions of hatchways, gates
just big enough for a signal to weave their wave of coded energy
through, flipped open and closed noisily. The sequences of openings
and closing began to interest him. A pattern started to emerge.
    The signal ahead shimmered red again. He
couldn’t grasp the pattern as bits were processed to the
hatchways.
    In a stroke of fortunate curiosity, the
data-packets saw a small number of bits joined together right
before him, flashes of light burst in noise-generating waves,
emanating outward as they merged into a byte. The Holy Logic, bits
joining to form new bytes, variables now defined.
    He pulsed a deep, solemn vibration, the kind
of piety and fullness of faith; he realized he was writing code.
His wavelength buzzed with intensity, enlightenment settled in the
gaps between some bits. Complex understanding came as concepts of
sixty-four bit combinations were grokked, one-twenty-eight-bit and,
two-fifty-six-bit bytes. Amazing, elaborate data-packets they
formed.
    He realized this was true ontogeny.
    The womb of information. The birth of
data.
    Parity is priority - Now he understood. One
bit wrong or changed and the growth of data is cancerous, must be
excised. Zero tolerance policies are necessary, standards can not
be ignored. The awe of absolute parity stirred remnants of doubt
into shivering fear.
    Without parity, CPU . . . . fails. The
digiverse fails, goes