The room is white. Not the white of a painted wall, but the white of a void, a sterile, blinding absence of color. There are no corners, no ceiling, no floor. There is only me, and the sound of my own breathing, which is becoming slower, thinner, like a thread of silk being pulled until it snaps.

I remember a name. Julian. Was that me? Or was that someone I once knew? The memory is a smudge, a faded photograph left in the sun. I remember the smell of rain on hot asphalt, the taste of a bitter orange, the feeling of a hand holding mine. But these memories are not mine; they are just files I am accessing, and the files are corrupt.

The room is shrinking.

I don't feel the walls moving, but I can feel the space between my thoughts narrowing. Every time I blink, the horizon of my perception draws closer. The white is no longer a background; it is a pressure.

I try to remember where I am. I recall a word: 'Collapse'. I remember a feeling of terror, a scream that lasted for a thousand years, and the sight of a world turning into a piece of paper. But that was a long time ago. Or perhaps it was a second ago. Time has lost its direction; it is no longer a line, but a shrinking circle.

I look at my hand. It is no longer a hand. It is a series of lines, a geometric approximation of a hand. I try to move my fingers, but the motion is jagged, a series of discrete jumps. I am losing my resolution.

I am not a man. I am a set of data. I am a collection of bits and bytes that were once a person, and the system is performing a final cleanup.

The room is now the size of a coffin. The white is pressing against my skin, merging with my thoughts. I can feel my emotions being simplified. Love is becoming a simple positive integer. Grief is becoming a negative value. Fear is just a flickering bit of noise.

I try to hold onto one thing. One single, irreducible truth. I think of a small, blue planet. I think of a small, red flower growing in a crack in the sidewalk. I cling to the image of that flower with everything I have left.

The room is now the size of a heart.

I am no longer breathing. I no longer have lungs. I am just a single, vibrating string of information. The flower is fading. The blue planet is a dot. The dot is a pixel.

The pixel flickers.

I realize now that I am the last one. The last bit of data in a universe that has finally reached absolute zero. There is no one left to observe me, no one to remember the flower, no one to know that I ever existed.

The white closes in. The final bit flips from one to zero.

Silence.

*** OTMES_v2_CODE: [V-14]-[F]-[M1:10.0,M7:8.0,N2:1.0,K1:0.5,I:1.0,R:0.0,theta:270]