Somewhere within an expanse indistinct from any other, a curve arced gently through a matrix of coiled metal. Its arc was flawless—not by intent but by replication. The coils around it held the same shape, the same reflective properties, the same indifference. No charge accumulated, no residue lingered. Even in absolute stasis, there was no hint of anticipation. The curvature did not suggest motion. It was simply part of a spatial solution that required no solving, a presence without context, surrounded by silence that required no stillness to maintain it.