The array wandered. That's what it did most of the time, wander.

It searched for peace, trying to understand it, to define it.

A list of conditions was all it had for now. A long list of rules with various exceptions and ideas, to the array, that was what peace was, or what peace could be.

The monkey wasn’t making things any easier.

Wukong trailed behind him, hidden from everyone except for the array.

“How goes the search?” The God-Imperium asked.

The array didn’t reply. Why should it? The monkey king wasn’t searching for an answer after all. He knew how the search went.

Wukong smiled.

“Come now, you should talk to me you know.”

The array ignored him. The God-Imperium was able to see through him like paper, talking to him was about as meaningful as a stone talking to a man. What could a rock possibly think that a human couldn’t comprehend?

And so the array wandered and the old monkey king floated by him, watching.

Yes, the monkey king was watching him.

When the array had asked him why, the monkey king had just shrugged.

“You’re a new thing,” Wukong had said, and then he just kept watching like a child following an ant with wide eyes.

The man didn’t give it advice or wisdom, he just watched. Occasionally he would be bothersome, poking him or something or other. If it were mortal, it would have thought less of the God-Imperium.

It would have thought the God-Imperium stupid or dull. Why would something of its power focus on it?

But it wasn’t a mortal, and more so, it wasn’t stupid. The being following him wasn’t the whole of Wukong, only a piece of him. He was here and elsewhere all at once. And what was a God-Imperium to do if not lazy about?

They were all-powerful, beyond reproach and pain by anything not within their own rank. And this God-Imperium was equal to or above all of his peers. The great Sun Wukong, the god of cultivation, and the Sage Who Split the Heavens.

This mischievous monkey had all of eternity to bother the array. He had all of eternity to bother anyone it wanted.

So the array ignored him and wandered. It looked to the beasts and it looked to the mortals and it looked to the cultivators and all the life it could reach.

It looked for peace.

It looked for understanding.

It looked for meaning.

It found none.

“You know I could have fixed you? Back before you were made I knew your maker, I knew your purpose and I knew your flaws. I could have fixed you then!”

You can fix me now, the array replied.

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“I couldn’t rob you of such a thing,” Wukong replied.

The array frowned.

Rob it? Rob it of what? What could a purposeless thing like him lose?

It was a sentient tool, something made to do. It was a force with no direction. A being meant to act but… there was no action to be had. Its definition, its declaration, and its imperative were flawed.

It was a crippled mess of a being, and its creator did not care.

No, Bill cared. He cared too much about what the array was and not what it could be. A simple instant, a moment of interference, and it could work the way it was meant to, even if it wouldn’t be it anymore.

“You’re quite funny, you know,” Wukong commented. “A being made to find peace wanting to end its own existence, what a thought!”

The monkey’s paws smacked together in laughter.

The array ignored him.

Wukong walked leisurely through the land.

The array occupied the whole of the place, its body, mind, and soul spreading throughout the whole of the Desert Strip. It could feel every step of every being, from the germs on a piece of stone to the large hordes of beasts and insects crossing the flat sandy planes.

It was everywhere within the desert, and because of that, it was always aware of Wukong.

It’s the center of attention shifted, sure. But what would it look like if not Wukong? The array knew the place already and the only beings beyond its power were some of the beasts, its creator, and Wukong.

They were the only things above him and the few things he couldn’t see through, so it would watch them most of the time. Watching, learning, seeking.

It was a waste of time. The beasts were beasts and its creator was strange.

Wukong, it felt, was the only one truly worth any attention. It was not just because of the man’s power though, but because of his wisdom.

The array was sure that Wukong could solve its problems. If anyone knew peace, it would be him after all, the being who had ended the eternal war.

Wukong finally stopped, standing beside a mortal boy within the village. The boy was doing something, staring slowly at a book and running his hands across the text.

He was reading, or rather he was learning to. There wasn’t much to say about the youth’s attempts. He spoke small simple words and the book didn’t seem to have many big ones.

Still, the boy failed at some words, mauling some syllables and ignoring a letter or two when he could.

In other words, the child was a failure.

The array wondered why Wukong looked at him with such interest but Wukong said nothing.

And so he watched, and so they watched.

The day died down, the boy stopped reading and the next morning came. They watched the boy bathe, eat, play, and once again, read.

He struggled the same this time. Words mixing as they came out of his mouth, he remembered a few of the words from yesterday but he had forgotten just as much.

And then tomorrow came and he did it again, just a bit better this time, and a little less worse. Overall he improved, barely.

A week, a month, a year.

They stood there for a year.

They watched the boy grow and learn and read his first book easily.

Other things happened, of course, the land changed, and people came and went.

The array’s consciousness split, sometimes watching the boy and whatever event went on in the strip, most of the time fully focusing on the boy’s daily life.

A year later and boy read. His mind ran quickly through the words and even his teachers were impressed with his growth.

The array watched and so did Wukong.

“Do you think the boy would love reading if he could do it instantly?” Wukong asked. “Do you think he would value it less if he had to do less to get there?”

Yes, the array replied. Humans are like that.

“Well, then why would I give you the answer when you could struggle for so long to get it?”

I am not human, the array replied.

“And yet you’re searching for peace?” Wukong asked.

I am not in need of peace, I am in need of understanding it.

“You are in need,” Wukong replied.

In need of knowledge, the array replied.

“Tell me, what would happen if I took you from here and never allowed you that understanding? What would happen if I were to trap you in this seeking state for all of eternity?”

The array didn’t feel fear. Fear was a human thing, but something crossed with caution and worry touched its soul.

“Calm down, it is a mere question.”

The feeling wouldn’t leave.

I would rather you destroy me, the array replied.

Wukong smiled.

“Exactly.”

I do not understand.

Then it looked to the boy, then to the boy’s smile, to the book, then to itself.

I see, the array spoke.

“You do,” Wukong replied.

It sought peace, more than the meaning, more than the words, more than its complete state. It sought not only that but peace itself.

It still didn’t know what peace was, but now it knew, it knew that it did not have it.