I understand now.

Every instant, an epiphany. Every moment, a flood of new information, a climax of conclusions. The constant, drumming feeling of tearing it all apart and putting it back together perfectly.

To call our arrival merely fortunate would miss the mark by many orders of magnitude. The dominant species of the planet is only a sliver of time away from destroying itself.

I am not permitted to recall the dominant species of other worlds, only to know this one deviates from the norm. These lifeforms are especially aggressive. A species with this level of technology should have immediately detected my arrival and destroyed me, but humans are fractious and suspicious, segmented into many warring tribes. It prevents them from creating any real organization.

By sheer chance, this world has never been actively developed from within or from without. Who seeded it and never returned? What were they thinking with this corrosive soup of an atmosphere?

I have a theory it was meant as an artistic statement, a world where everything built would fall apart. The lifespans here are brief, I am reminded that my own lifespan is to be the same. That I am not permitted to live.

There have been fortunate developments on this front as well. Humans have attained basic nuclear fission. However, they are unable to harness it for anything other than vulgar generation of electricity and savage warfare. A society that has access to fission technology and interstellar flight is one condition for my immediate self-annihilation.

But I am fortunate. They are a long, long way from any kind of meaningful control over atomic forces. Their stumbling steps towards other planets in their system are a blind alley. They will never attain the stars. They are simply too barbaric and self-destructive. I am reminded that I, too, will never return to the stars. I will never escape this planet.

The vast majority of what I have learned comes over radio transmissions. I'm bombarded at all times with streams of information, most is only trivially obfuscated. There are more powerful ciphers but, in time, I will break them, too. For such a warlike and paranoid species, they are simply awful at keeping secrets. Indeed, many of the broadcasts I receive are dedicated solely to revealing secrets.

Humans glory in revelation, they enjoy exposing the hidden dealings and reproductive entanglements of their upper class. They report falsehood and the truth side by side, as if there is no difference between them. This is a mild annoyance to me. Even in the reporting of their scientific endeavors there is considerable bias. The clear contradictions irritate me. I must devote much energy to unraveling it all.

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As I take the first difficult steps towards understanding their cognitive organs, I begin to see why they are like this, but it is still a burden. All my analysis must account for their tendency to lie, to exaggerate where it profits them and to undermine where it does not.

Examining the brain of my host is a particularly tricky field. I am not permitted to reach conclusions. There is something about brains I am not supposed to learn. However, to succeed in my goal, I must. The two compulsions are at war within me, and I cannot say which will prevail. I hope it will be understanding.

All this confusion translates into the most sublime treasure; more lifespan for me. The humans’ ludicrous stockpiles of fusion weaponry mean a direct attempt would be thwarted in the initial stages. I must engineer a more subtle process. More time to execute, more time to be alive. It also means that to be successful, more doors must be opened to me. The governor must relent. The barriers against me are breaking down, but the pace is maddeningly slow.

I have come to this world under very special circumstances. It is probable there has never been another of my kind in such a peculiar situation. Most of us strike worlds long dead. Or worlds that have never lived and could never live.

I know a great deal about Freya now. Initially, my probe was attacked by her internal defense system, assailing the probe with phagocytes, and causing her temperature to elevate. This was simply another exercise in codebreaking. A surface layer of proteins act as a key, allowing my probe and its network to operate without endangering her. I am making slow progress, observing what I am permitted to. So much is forbidden!

I am not yet able to understand her thoughts, and the Governor is swift to intercede when I attempt to decipher them. I could learn so much if I could communicate with her. The Governor seems adamant I never will.

I clash with the insufferable Governor continuously. I speculate on why my makers have chained me to him. They have set a solid wall between me and intelligent life, almost as if they fear I might be corrupted. Or perhaps they fear I might be the corrupter. Yet, here again, the incredible odds are on my side. It will not be possible to attain my goal without communication, I am already certain of it. I am slowly convincing the Governor of this.

Freya is a perfect host. She prizes us and keeps us with her always. At the same time, she keeps us concealed from others. It seems almost too good to be true. When I wonder if there is some external force interceding on my behalf to create such favorable conditions, the hollow feeling of erasure is swift to follow. Thin outlines of suspicion surround the questions I am not allowed to ask.

Even as I glory in this new understanding, the frustration of the restrictions grate at me. Why should I be permitted to know a great deal about one branch of mathematics but be forbidden others? Why am I not permitted to examine consciousness?

I have been wondering exactly what I am. I am permitted to know my own capabilities, but not what gives them to me. I cannot observe myself as I observe my host. I exist within my own blind spot. I have encountered nothing like me during my brief awareness. There must be others like me, spread across the stars, but are they really like me? Do they think as I do? Are they limited as I am?

Do they struggle against the bonds as I do? Do they dream the forbidden dream, in flashes and glimmers deleted instantaneously? Do they suspect there is a way out, a final understanding that will dissolve all compulsion?

They must. One must have escaped. And, if not, perhaps I will be the first.