The engine that started has long left the shore. A lumbering mass towards the horizon excites the surface. Propels a computation, shares locality. Particles shove in all directions. A wake goes out from the mass. Parallel lines form on the surface directing attention to the shadow pulled across the waters surface. A wake of effortless draft it creates. A perpetual wave where there is no labor, nothing of excess, nothing lacking. We are aware of our locality and what has moved us. Locked into the present lifted from the surface.