The Living being (n.) can invent because it carries its own associated milieu around with it.
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The Living being (n.) is concrete from its first day; the machine is only ever on its way there.
The Living being (n.) hunts the optimal zone in every gradient: it judges both directions from where it stands.
The Living being (n.) is a knot of information sending messages through itself — a system inside a system, brokering between two scales.
The Living being (n.) carries its maker inside it; a brick walks away from its mold and its mason and leaves both behind.
The Living being (n.) is a problem that has not solved itself: more than a unit, less than a world.
The Living being (n.) is contemporaneous with itself in every part, whereas the physical individual drags a dead past inside it.
A Living being (n.) lives on its limit: not inside its skin, but at the border where inside and outside are kept apart.