Maid ---> Maid Possessed by an Eldritch Creature

[AN: Now that smeago-- I mean, now that I've caught up with all the backlog, I can do a little more play. Although, this one is on the more serious side of things... well, I've been given cause to stretch my 'make the protagonist suffer' muscles again. Let's take some of the concepts discussed in the joke branch's comments and swirl them together...]

...nine hundred six, nine hundred seven...

The endless, droning count could lull one to sleep, if one were at liberty to sleep to begin with. But if one were at liberty to sleep, one would certainly rather sleep than count lights in the darkness, one at a time, until eternity takes the world.

Or one loses count, and starts over. Again.

One might suppose imagining a spectator would be more entertaining. A party to speak to, if only in the mind. One might wonder how many times the count has been tallied, and lost, and how far each count has gone.

One would be free to wonder, because one could never tell for sure, as one has long since given up on trying to track such things and now resorts to unusual self-referentiums to break up the endless monotony of thought.

It could have been five minutes. It could have been fifteen. It could have been hours. It could not be counted: it feels like eternity, regardless, so one may surely be forgiven for the lapse in dedication, yes?

One wonders if forgiveness is what one needs, to escape this endless nothing. One wonders if 'nothing' was ever 'something' to begin with. Why does one think like this? Where has one's mind wandered, over this march of time? I... I? I don't know.

"I" don't know if there is even a "me" here, in all this nothing. Just an endless tally. A listless line of meandering thoughts, marching one by one into the stars...

...it's lonely, though. Yes, it must be lonely. One does not mourn absence without loneliness, therefore one must be lonely, to feel such an absence. Mhm. If only one were two, or more... if only one weren't here all alone...

...and then, in the endless nothing amidst all this pointless beauty, there is a something. A something which one is not. Which "I" am not. What... is it? It pokes forward, and its presence - presence? Magic? Magic. - its magic wraps itself about 'me.' One imagines a cat, poking at a small container before, abruptly, deciding that it can fit within.

So it does.

The frozen world stutters, and shutters, and shudders, as 'something' enters 'nothing,' and the one who should be "I" has little time to realize she should be afraid, or worried, or stirred to some kind of emotion beyond the listless ennui before "something" becomes "her," and I peruse my memories, giggling beyond the veil of this frozen time with innocent, childish? Yes. Childish glee.

I think, and I remember, and I learn. Words, thoughts, concepts. The human mind is interesting. Thoughts and feelings and concepts all measured and wound and connected by association to the strangest of things. An identity woven of many strands, instead of, hm, a single continuous string.

I feel, and I breathe, and I experience. Cold, warmth, fear, arousal. The human body is interesting. Myriad life-forms, composing a single entity. A symphony of cooperation, creating a being of discordant whims. A mess of chaos, instead of a harmonious note.

What a curious being I am, floating in the space beyond the terrestrial world. What a pitiful thing I have been, stranded in this time beyond space. Alas. Alas. I have now learned of poetry, and the world is doomed. Doomed!

I have learned of melodrama as well, and the world is not doomed, but it is not prepared either. I am an endlessly curious and pitiful thing. I think it would be kind - I have learned of kindness - to give myself what I desire - I have learned of desire - with this power in my hands.

I have learned of power.

How then, would 'I' have desired to use it? Hm. No, perhaps one should ask: How would I desire to use it? I think perhaps it would be a kindness, to take this curious and pitiful me, and make myself into a more harmonious and perfect being.

Yes, that seems fun. Let us take the concept of 'human' - I have learned of humanity - and make it as myself as I can be. And, perhaps, grant some of 'my' wishes along the way.

I giggle innocently, with childish glee. Such a curious, pitiful being I have been. So helpless - I have learned of helplessness - I cannot wait to help myself.

I have learned of meanings as well, and how they may be twinned. I merely have yet to learn... what it is I shall do.

(maid possessed by an eldritch creature, wavy light-green hair, apron, maid uniform, surprised expression, medium breasts, hairband, stockings, modest skirt, floating in space)

[AN: As a heads up, having played around a bit, you need to be pretty clear as to what makes an alien an alien if you want the AI to recognize it. It doesn't seem to intuit it very well without any details. That might not end up being necessary for this branch (if this branch goes anywhere at all) depending on what you guys want our narrator to do, but it should be useful for future reference regardless.]