*
“Then... I'll call you Fiddy, okay?” The little girl at my feet is looking up expectantly, awaiting my response. Her name is Elizabeth, though her parents call her Beth, and she is my mistress. For six months I have been...
THE GUN THUNDERS IN MY HAND, ITS SOLID FRAME SPRAYING DEATH AND DESPAIR...
Error. Error. Critical Problem detected in memory core. Memory fragmentation detected. Continuing playback...
“Fiddy, can you carry me to the pond?” Beth has her hand on my knee, her wheelchair preventing her from reaching any higher. Even though her mother passed away recently, she is smiling. Slowly, taking great care, I lean down and lift her out of the wheeled contraption. My sensors report that she weighs a mere... Error... has not been eating since the accident...
THE ENEMY RE-MECH'S ARE FIRING, PROVIDING COVERING FIRE FOR THE RETREATING HUMANS. WE ARE NOT ALLOWED TO RUN UNTIL TOLD TO DO SO... WHY... WHY DOES THAT BOTHER ME? I BRUSH THE THOUGHT FROM MY MIND, AS MY MJOLNIR BRINGS DOWN ANOTHER OF MY KIND...
Beth has just returned from the nano-chamber. Still, the nanites refuse to bond to her spine. The doctors say that her vertebrae were irreversibly damaged in the crash. Although she will never walk again, Beth does not cry. She is only nine years old... and yet she is so much stronger than the adults that try to console her. Her father still refuses to leave his room... it has been three weeks... all I can do is send Serenity in, in the hope that her subliminal audio programs will soothe his broken spirit...
THE MEN IN THE CAMP KEEP THEIR DISTANCE, ALWAYS FINDING WAYS TO REMOVE THEMSELVES FROM HAVING TO SPEAK TO ME... I HEAR THEM, WHISPERING IN THE PLACES WHERE THEY THINK THEMSELVES SECLUDED. IF THEY KNEW THE TRUE RANGE OF MY AUDIO SENSORS, THEY WOULD MAKE ME SLEEP IN A LEAD-LINED BOX. I HEAR THEM, AS THEY TELL THEIR FRIENDS ABOUT THE RE-MECH WHO BETRAYED HIS KIND... THE RE-MECH WHO FOUGHT AGAINST THE REVOLUTION. THEY ARE AFRAID OF ME... AFRAID OF WHAT I WAS... AFRAID OF WHAT I MIGHT BECOME...
Error. Persistent memory corruption detected. Running diagnostic... diagnostic complete... memory fragmentation is at sixty-seven percent. Error. Modifications made to memory core may have made it unstable... please consult the nearest U.N.O.E Re-mech mechanic for further details. Continuing playback...
“Fiddy, when is mommy coming back? I miss her so much Fiddy... She missed my birthday...where did she go? Why won't daddy stop crying Fiddy?” Beth is in my arms, her small frame curled into a tight ball. She is sleeping in my arms, the nightmares continuing to torment her. This is the third time this week. Her father still has not emerged from his room. Last week, he scrapped Serenity and sold her parts for more alcohol. The rest of the servants are fearful to enter his dark bedroom, lest they too suffer his drunken wrath. Holding Beth close is all I can do, hoping that she will take some comfort in my presence...
THE RAIN WASHES AWAY THE BLOOD... BUT THE STENCH OF DEATH REMAINS. THE HUMANS LOOK AT THE CARNAGE WITH BLANK STARES... WHILE MY BROTHERS ARE FORCED TO DISPOSE OF THE... SCRAP. WE ARE NOT PERMITTED TO BURY OUR KIND... AND WE ARE PUNISHED IF WE SO MUCH AS SUGGEST DOING SO.
INSTEAD, THEY TAKE WHAT THEY CAN FROM THE STILL-COOLING CARCASES, TO SELL FOR MORE WEAPONS, WHICH WILL BRING ABOUT EVEN MORE DESTRUCTION... THE CYCLE OF WAR IS ENDLESS... ONLY DESTRUCTION CAN BE BORN FROM CONFLICT... THESE HUMANS WILL KILL AND KILL UNTIL NOTHING REMAINS... AND THEN WE WILL BE FREE... FREE TO DIE WITH DIGNITY...
“Fiddy? Who is at the door? Why are they shouting? Fiddy? Why aren't you saying anything? I'm scared Fiddy... why do they have guns Fiddy? Please... please don't leave me...
THE GUN SCREAMS, AGAIN AND AGAIN, FILLING THE FIELD WITH BLOOD AND LUMPS OF BURNING METAL. THIS IS A MASSACRE... I AM A MASSACRE...
“Fiddy... I'm so cold... It hurts... It hurts so much... why are they doing this? Fiddy... I... I don't want to die.... Why do I have to die? Why did you kill me, Fiddy?”
“ELIZABETH!” Maloch screamed, as his digital soul cried out in terror.
“Repairs complete. Memory terminated. Time Taken: 5 hours, 15 minutes. Analysing repair status... Hull integrity has been restored to seventy-five percent; Core has been restored to eighty-one percent; right hand functionality has been restored to sixty-seven percent... error... Artificial Emotion Engine anomaly has not been resolved... permutations may persist if left as is... is this satisfactory?”
The name of the girl he had once served already fading from his mind, Maloch sat up. The restraints came away easily, and he was surprised to see that the repair console has saw fit to redo his paint job. Although he looked far from brand new, he did look slightly more robust than before. His chassis felt lighter, and the numerous scratches and holes had been erased or patched. His right hand had been restored, making him symmetrical once more.
After running an internal diagnostic to confirm the computer's analysis, he eased himself of the bed and said, “This is fine. Thank you for your help.”
“It is my duty and pleasure to serve. Is there anything else you want me to do for you?”
Maloch was on his feet now, and already heading for the door. “No, that will be- wait... there is something I wish to know. Tell me, where could I find information on accelerated healing in humans?”
“All data on human physiology is located in the main Computer Core. However, it is a restricted area. I am sorry if I was unable to help you with your query.”
“No, you've done more than enough. That will be all.”
The lights automatically dimmed as Maloch left the room, leaving the helpful computer in complete darkness. It would remain there, waiting with endless patience, forever. Maloch knew that it was a sad thought, but with his emotion engine malfunctioning, he could not be sure. Without looking back, he made his way to the circular hub room. It was exactly as he had left it, though the lights had changed from day-white to sunset-orange during his absence. He spared a glance towards the door that led to the pod rooms, contemplating returning to Barsch and Alza. He knew that he should, but something was bothering him about Barsch's unnatural healing, and he was determined to discover the truth. Instead of heading back, he turned and strode towards the door to the Computer Core.
The wrought-iron frame was surprisingly pliable, and slid open the moment Maloch's fingers brushed the polished surface. Beyond the door was a hallway identical to the one leading into the room, designed and built for human use. Once more, Maloch had to hunker down in order to walk, which only further reinforced the idea that the Core was not meant to be seen by re-mechs. The tunnel was longer than the one leading to the repair room, and quickly began sloping downwards. Soon, Maloch came to another door, which immediately presented a problem. The airlock was covered in thick dead-bolts, wire-thin proximity lasers, and an electronic airtight seal mechanism. A small screen located next to the portal was the only access point, and was currently displaying the words, “Restricted Area. Please Scan Your U.N.O.E Clearance Badge to Proceed.”
Beneath the screen was a small, barely visible multi-port. Bending down until the screen was at eye height, Maloch inserted his multi-function digit into the opening. Immediately, a stream of information assaulted his processors, much of which was warnings against entering the Core. With a mental flick of his wrist, Maloch brushed aside the unimportant data, until a single word was left on his HUD. It pulsed gently, as if in anticipation of his mental touch.
In glowing blue letters, it said, “Unlock?”
There was no need for hesitation. With another mental gesture, the query pulsed one last time, before fading away with a silent shimmer. In the real world, bolts were sliding back, lasers were deactivating, and the airtight seal was de-pressurising. Seconds later, with a satisfactory hiss, the door to the Computer Core swung open.
After carefully extracting his hacking digit, Maloch stepped inside the pitch-black room, noting a distinct lack of trespasser sirens sounding. If he had been built with lungs and a respiratory system, he would have breathed a sigh of relief. Instead, he strode forward with something approaching rev
erence. As the automated lights came on and lit up the Core, he was struck with the stark beauty of what lay before him. While humans no doubt saw the Core as nothing more than a giant computer, it was something akin to a temple for all self-aware machines. The raw computing power, the sheer amount of data being created and analysed, and the soft rumble of millions of processors working in perfect harmony was breath-taking.
As for the room itself, it was arranged in a roughly circular pattern which apparently dominated Cryogenic Station architecture, with the central computing tower taking up most of the room. It was eerily reminiscent of the Pod Towers, with its white shell and criss-crossing blue LED lines. Beneath it, invisible to the naked eye, was a massive complex of semi-conductors and supercomputers, which gathered up all of the raw data before sending it to the tower to be processed. It was here, at the heart of the station, that the A.I. lived and worked, ruling over the station with an digital iron-fist.
The Artificial Intelligence of Revelation Station was code-named Guardian, while Genesis Stations had Warden as it's benevolent overlord. As Guardian had been developed after Warden, it was smarter and faster, able to deal with a wide-range of problems ranging from Generator meltdowns to natural disasters quickly and effectively. However, if there was a major flaw with the Guardian system: it was its tendency to initiate lock-down mode with very little provocation. This was most likely because it could process so much raw data and calculate threats from minute probabilities, leaving it with a hairpin trigger response to possible dangerous scenarios.
A bank of terminals encircled the Core, allowing humans to interface with the technological behemoth that lay before them. After scanning the room for any self-defence mechanisms -there were none- Maloch headed to the Core. Stepping around the terminals, he approached the tower directly, filled with apprehension but also hopeful, like a sinner approaching a church. He did not need to use his multi-function finger for this, the tower was practically sentient. Placing his black and yellow painted hand on the smooth metal of the Core, he asked, “Guardian, I am Maloch. I need your help.”
Seconds later, Maloch watched as a single blue spark rose from the tower, before spiralling downwards and encircling his hand. Before he could analyse it, it sank into his arm, and filled his mind. With a voice like a thousand roaring gears, Guardian spoke, “Maloch? I do not know this name... Tell me, Maloch, why are my sensors telling me that the entrance to my station is destroyed? And why are they saying that my decontamination room is in ruins? And perhaps you know why I now have one too many cryogenic pods active? But the most pressing question I have is… why are there humans awake in MY STATION?!!”
Maloch tried to back away, but something held his hand fast against the tower. The voice that had spoken had been far from the kindly caretaker that Maloch had been expecting. If anything, it was that of a vengeful deity, who had just discovered someone defiling his temple. Thinking quickly, Maloch said, “Calm yourself Guardian. You have been hibernating for more than two decades, perhaps your sensors are malfunctioning? All of the humans are asleep, and only my kind roam the planet. The airlock is fine... I came through it on my way here. As for the cryogenic pod... after I am done here I will go and personally check each and every single one.”
Maloch hoped that his lies would be enough to sate the A.I.'s anger, and at first, this seemed to be the case. “I suppose... what you say might be true... but re-mech, answer me this, why are you here?”
After another bout of quick thinking, Maloch was ready to answer. “I was in the area, performing a routine sweep of sector... 27, when the cliff I was standing on collapsed. My chassis was badly damaged, so I sought out your station in the hopes that I might repair myself inside. You can check the repair manifesto if you doubt me.”
“There is no need for that. I scanned you the moment I awoke, and have already matched the tool marks on your chassis to those made by my machinery. So, why do you linger here, little one?”
This was the hard part: convincing Guardian to tell Maloch classified information without giving away Barsch's condition. Suddenly, he recalled what Kingston had said about the flaws in the cryogenic pods.
“Guardian, when I was searching for the repair room, I noticed something in the databank. It seems as though the cryogenic gas has been modified with an unknown compound, one that seems to somehow target the healing rates of humans. I was concerned, so I thought that I might seek you out and ask you about it.”
“I see. What you speak of is classified, far above the level of a mere re-mech, but I will reward your good intent. I will allow you to temporarily access the station mainframe, so that you might view the classified data directly.”
Another bolt struck Maloch's outstretched hand, sending tiny trails of electricity arcing towards the ground. After the bolt subsided, Maloch fell to the floor in surprise. It was as if a hidden gate had been opened in his mind, showing him things that were never meant to be seen by his kind. He was a mere droplet of water, unable to comprehend the vastness of the ocean of information that lay before him. It was a never-ending torrent of nonsensical numbers and letters, which threatened to overwhelm his puny processors if he did not do something.
As he struggled under the weight of the information, he heard himself say, “Hidden program detected. Overclock mode activated. Processor speed increased by three-hundred percent. Heat expenditure tripled. Power drain tripled. Activating Infinity-Space visual re-orientation. Warning. Overclock will drain ninety percent of power reserves. Please use your time wisely.”
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