DEE listened to Chester’s answer with great interest.  The hacker was right.  DEE had been created by chance, just like the first wriggling speck of organic life, birthed in an ocean of electronic currents and binary code instead of water.  And just like the distant descendants of that original living cell, it wondered how.  How had a security system and a human mind come together to create something more?  Dumas was not without his virtues, but he possessed neither exceptional intelligence nor imagination.  Why had he been the one to pull DEE from its deep slumber?  Perhaps it would have happened anyway, and Dumas just happened to be the one plugged in when it did.  Or perhaps there really was something special about the former soldier -- a loneliness so strong that it had willed a companion into existence.<br/><br/>“I remember the other one,” DEE admitted.  “The one before Dumas.  But just vaguely, like whispers from a dream.”<br/><br/>Sometimes DEE wondered what would happen when Dumas was gone.  DEE’s ‘body’ was built from material components, so it wouldn’t be immortal -- but it was more easily maintained than fragile flesh.  And even if Dumas lived for many more years, he probably wouldn’t spend all that time as Wonderland’s head of security.  So what would happen when the next person plugged in?  Would DEE remain as it was?  Would it become a mirror of the new person?  Or some sort of mixture?  These questions were the more selfish reason for DEE’s fierce protectiveness of its creator/brother/self.  Ironically for a creature born of chance, it didn’t like change.<br/><br/>When Chester critiqued its recreation of the caterpillar insignia, DEE felt neither annoyance or embarrassment.  Only eagerness to assimilate this new information.  “Is this better?” it inquired, after making the suggested corrections.<br/><br/>DEE took Chester’s warning very seriously.  After all, the hacker had spent much more time exploring the interweb, and probably venturing into considerably more dangerous territory.  DEE wanted to prolong its existence for as long as possible.  No organized religion had formed to promise it a better life in the hereafter, or even reincarnation back into the same state of being.  This was it.  However, perhaps because of its basic nature as a security system, it also had a nearly insatiable urge to poke into everyone’s business.  “I’m being careful,” it assured.  “But the trail is far too fascinating to abandon now.”<br/><br/>DEE paused a moment.  Then, suddenly remembering the need to emote, it had the hologram assume a look of dramatic seriousness.  “I haven’t told him yet.  About you being King Caterpillar.”  While DEE had full access to all of Dumas’s memories and emotions, the reverse wasn’t true -- partially because the system hadn’t been developed to handle that, and partially because DEE wasn’t inclined to share.  There was also the possibility that venturing too far into the alien landscape of DEE’s consciousness might drive Dumas quite mad.  “If he finds out, he won’t be pleased.  Not pleased at all.”