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Journal. Lt. Joy Eleven. Stardate 9605.19
"You will never be more than a chunk of wires and plastic unless you have passion."
I think Case meant a passion for science. It seems to be his passion. It seems that anyone that does not understand and share this overriding passion must not be sentient, and is an object of pity and scorn.
Pity perhaps. I remember passion. I remember another program set. A passion for money and men, not for science. But yes, I remember. Obey your owner. Increase his profits, cut his losses. Honor the Laws of Acquisition. Personify the Art of Oo-mox.
Passion. Passion on the dance floor, with knives dripping blood. Passion in bed. Passion at the stock exchange. Passion at the Tac console. Passion, phasers, latinum, knives, love, and ever so passionate death. That wasn't sentience. If I am now but a chunk of wires and plastic, I was then something less.
Perhaps Case in his passion will blaze a burning trail across the sky, leaving nothing behind, save maybe a crater at his final resting place.
I shall be part of a constellation. If my light shines cold, it will shine long, and it will not shine alone.