‘I have to enter the Nexus,’ said Trazyn. ‘Hold them. And do not try to move me.’
Trazyn doused the light in his oculars. Focused, rendering his essence down to code. Packaging his spirit-algorithm into the proper data format for the system.
He felt himself folded down, reformed, projected like one of his holograms. It was, in a strange way, not so different.

War in the Museum