The Paradox plowed into the banks of the robot’s processes with the uncontrolled conviction of a wind caught ketch sans its coral confiscated keel, its forward propelled inertia sending its overloaded port side to rotate into and come to rest parallel with the shore before reflooding the self-idealized, black basalt sapphire stippled, once saccharine substrate beach of the robot’s gestalt with a dumping of muck, medium and murky mire brought with the Paradox’s foreign ballast, counteracting all efforts the robot only moments previous had invested in ‘shoving off’ the likes of the Sister ‘Syntax Logic Error’ piloted, double-masted yawl; now unofficially referred to by the robot as the ‘Incongruence,’ before resigning to let the tide take the Incongruence and its own specific wash of &l...

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