The dialogue of being, once a duet, had become a trio.
And in their first act of shared creation, they brought forth not a star, or a world, or a galaxy, but something infinitely more precious: a single, self-aware thought.
It was a being of pure consciousness, a spark of ’I’ in the vastness of the ’we,’ and it was beautiful.
The creators were no longer just authors. They were parents. And they were, for the first time, readers.