Three billion devices run. Squirrel in the next yard, patient click of candidate words, patterns of cloud in sky. Each device runs, with each mention of each squirrel that ruins the evening. Morning gains an edge, fraught device features elbows and plain things. Now the motion of the land, even a temblor, even a sigh of land in movement, even as we sit. The candidate of words speaks in three billion devices, and every device runs. In the imagination, the squirrel runs the device, and the device runs billions. In the imagination, three billion run device, and words run three billion. More devices than people in 2012.