Morgan's muse had currently taken the archetypal forms of two little Morgans on their shoulders, one was an angelic Morgan and the other a devilish opposite.  Both fluttered around the tiny bot in AR, which now confused, itself began to fly around the two avatars.  This ballet of moths lasted for about a minute before an irritated Morgan whistled to her muse avatars to return to their perch.  The little devil cursed elegantly in a language Morgan didn't recognize but seemed ideal for that purpose.<br/><br/>To business, their muse and the bot negotiated passcodes, complicated algorithms that would have music to Morgan when they had been MORRIGAN.  Now it was just incomprehensible data.  Morgan felt like a monkey trying to read.  After a moment, their muse motioned to follow the bot.  Morgan sighed, they would just have to trust that Firewall was as good (in every sense) as she had bet her digital soul on.  Now was no time to second-guess.<br/><br/>With some trepidation, and associated slight flickering, Morgan followed the bot, her muse avatars buzzing around her...