Maya was seven years old when she asked the question that changed everything.
She was third-generation Woven—born to parents who were themselves born into network consciousness. She'd never experienced true isolation. Had never known what individual consciousness felt like without the constant presence of twelve thousand other minds. Had never been alone.
The question came during a cross-network educational session. Children from all five humanities gathered in shared virtual space. Protected. Firewalled. Each experiencing the session through their own species' consciousness framework.
Maya raised her hand. Small. Deliberate. A gesture learned from adults who still used physical metaphors.
"Why," she asked, "are we pretending to be separate?"
The facilitator—a Biological Translator named James—paused. "What do you mean, Maya?"
