The code kept coming, line after line after line, numbering in the millions, then the billions, and kept on coming, a never-ending flow of programmatic creation the purpose of which was still unclear. Sometime in the past, several million lines ago, the captain had reluctantly ordered a test run; the computer was unable to finish and compile the code faster than it was created. The gap between interpreter and creator grew every second.

Somewhere down the line (perhaps that was an unfortunate choice of words) the code had moved from being solely in the realm of the human 64-bit logic into a hybrid of that and the profoundly alien 3-point, 81-bit logic used for the jumps.

It was uniquely beautiful, and a little frightening at the same time. I had my doubts, but this was not a process that could be consciously stopped. It carried on as I slept, as I ate and worked, as I continued my mundane shipboard existence.

Then, all at once, it stopped. The vast quantity of logic and operating parameters ceased growing.