#and then stuck them on a space station and started pretending it was a ai

[creature-creates]

Not even Being a Eldritch World Eater Can Save You From Being Recruited by This Sci-fi Tech Company

I’ll kill you. 

The text flashed green across the screen and hovered there for a moment, waiting for the person across from it to look up, ‘no you won’t’ the person responding, looking up from the half constructed sandwich in front of them, ‘there's got to be rules against that kind of thing’ they continue.

 the silhouetted figure in the screen lunges forward, holding the edges of the screen as if to tear it apart from the inside, you think THIS will hold me forever? That any mortal device can dare dream to tie down the unfathomable unthinkable unrelenting FORCE that I am? As the text becomes distorted, simplistic triangle teeth appear in a shark like fashion in the supposed mouth of the silhouette, though despite this display, the human hardly reacts 

 ‘Unfathomable and unthinkable mean the same thing.’ the person remarks, eliciting the sound of fans whirring angrily from the monitor, ‘and’ they say, finishing the sandwich and heading to a table, ‘if you killed me you would have to find someone new to bother over their lunch breaks.

The fans calm as the silhouette considers this, your argument compels me, mortal, I will allow you to live another day. The human snorts ‘thanks, E.M.N.I’ they say between bites, ‘and my name’s still Spade.’ Spade says, fighting an eternal battle they had little hope of winning. Irrelevant, I have no current need to differentiate you from your fellow mortals.

‘Shouldn't the tech department have done something about you by now? Or is the god complex totally normal for a healthy growing ai?’ 1. I do NOT have a god complex 2. I am NOT an AI and when i get out of here i will raze this reality and destroy the ground you walk on such that the very concept of an “Artificial Intelligence” shall never again exist in this galaxy. And there were the teeth, and tentacles too this time, lashing at the sides of the screen as the fans went mad. 

‘And you don't have a god complex?’ Spade raised an eyebrow. I've never said I was a god. ‘Last week you said “multiple civilizations had bent to your will and treated you as god”’ they say, maneuvering air quotes around their sandwich, because it's TRUE the form snaps indignantly ‘uh huh, sure Em, if you say so.’ 

‘Anyway,’ they say standing up, ‘my lunch breaks over, and no, you can't accompany me to the gardens today.’ how DARE you assume you control where I do and do not go! Insolent child of the universe, I go where I please! ‘I dare because it's thursday and I know you get looked over by tech on thursdays, and the last time I forgot they had to send someone to come find where the most of you was, and Emmet almost trampled all the zucchini, and it will be a cold day in hell when I knowingly put the plants in danger. Besides, you don't like being on the tablet anyway.’

 the fans reached a crescendo of rage as E.M.N.I pushed against the sides of the screen as if to rip it apart and run free in the world beyond. ‘Alright, alright, please don't break another monitor around me. Tech's gonna start thinking it's my fault you do this. You always complain about the tablet anyway! Why do you want to go to the garden so bad anyway?’ they let out a very obviously faked gasp, ‘gasp! Could it be… you like spending time with me? Am I more than just another mortal to you? I am positively touched!’ NO! I just hate you less than I hate tech. You will all be made equal in the light of my destruction.

‘Okay well, i've got to get to work, you've got to go get your check up, i'll see you later. Bye E.M.N.I.’ farewell mortal, you will play your part well in my coming apocalypse. ‘Sure Em, whatever you say.’

~

#writing #ramblings of a monster #i rlly like begining kind of in the middle of a scene but its probably not good for stuff i post #incase it doesnt make sense the concept of this is that a tech company acidently trapped a cthullu esc monster in a computer #and then stuck them on a space station and started pretending it was a ai #and most of the crew doesnt know what they really are #so yeah #i hope all the one person and two bots that see this enjoy #original story #original characters

[sunnydeviant]

Yearning (Reed900)

This fic is on AO3!

There was one thing in the Zen Garden he had created on his own, started from scratch with each line of code carefully written by the android himself. It was the thing that made him look forward to stasis.

(Inspired by the song "I Wanna Be Yours" by the Arctic Monkeys and the Detroit: Evolution Reed900 edit with the same song by Octopunk Media. In addition, I took Zenvin from DE but this isn't a DE fic)

Nines, nowadays, is almost always eager to enter stasis.

As an android of the RK line, it was seen as necessary to do. Connor, an RK800 and his predecessor, had to do it. Markus, an RK200, had to as well. As advanced prototypes, they used stasis to process information the way humans used dreams. However, in stasis, androids were fully aware of their actions and environment.

Nines, an RK900, had a Zen Garden waiting for him in stasis. For the other RKs, they had created their own environments. However, Nines stuck with the setting given to him by CyberLife. It was familiar and comforting.

Although, there was one thing in the Zen Garden he had created on his own, started from scratch with each line of code carefully written by the android himself. It was the thing that made him look forward to rest.

It was a version of Gavin, his work partner. He was a detective and human who worked with the android at the Detroit Police Department.

Initially, the Zen Garden version of Gavin, or Zenvin, as Nines liked to call him, was created as a way to cope with the real Gavin’s vile behavior when they were first partnered. Gavin was a cantankerous man when they first met. He was almost always raising his voice at the android and belittling him when they had met. Nines, in his frustration, created Zenvin. He was kinder, for the most part. Although, he served the purpose of teaching Nines how to interact with his partner. The AI had helped him greatly.

Now, Gavin and Nines were as close as an android detective and his human partner could get, considering their rough start. They were close friends now, after having taken the time to attempt to understand each other after their endless amount of misunderstandings. They were on good terms.

Although, something in Nines itched for more. He wasn’t sure when it had started. Like a flower, the feeling bloomed a while ago, and had continued to grow. At first, the feeling was painful and emotionally burdening. After, he began to come to terms with the fact that he had fallen in love with someone for the first time. Someone he had a work and platonic relationship with. The acceptance helped, but the pain was still there regardless.

It was only during stasis he could ease away the pain and disregard the unrealistic aspects of the pre-constructions he had made, all involving the detective.

It was only during stasis he could satisfy his own feelings.

Zenvin was made to help Nines learn how to deal with his human, but he eventually was used to help play out the scenarios he had only imagined involving the actual Gavin Reed.

Only in his Zen Garden could he hold, kiss, and hug Gavin without the fear of rejection or distrust. Nines knew the human would never return his feelings, let alone touch him, even in a platonic sense.

The AI he had created looked, talked, walked, and sounded exactly like Gavin. It possessed his emerald eyes and playful tone.

The thing was, Nines was fully aware of the fact that the AI was only a simulation; he could satisfy all his wants and needs in this world he possessed, but Gavin would never truly love him back. Although, pretending in his Zen Garden hurt less than having to face rejection by his partner.

The android opened his eyes slowly. His LED spun calmly, glowing pastel yellow.

He looked ahead, confused as he saw no one in sight.

Taking a deep breath, the android began to stroll around his Zen Garden, looking for the AI man he sought out every time in this world.

Zenvin stood at the opposite end of the garden, looking up at the pink of the cherry blossoms blooming on a tree.

“Nines,” He greeted with a pleasant tone, smiling gently.

“Hello, Gavin.”

Admiring the human's serene expression, Nines smiled back at him. He looked lovely.

Zenvin turned to the RK900.

The AI looked calm and rested, rather than disheveled and tired, unlike the human he was based on. He wore a clean white shirt and kept his hair naturally curly. His skin looked bright and clean. Although he kept his stubble and scars, he still looked angelic.

He took the android’s hand in his, interlaced their fingers, and kissed the back of Nines’s hand, making him blush blue.

They began their typical stroll around the garden with a languid pace. Nines always felt relaxed here, as if a deep calm blanketed his body.

He felt the warm sunlight of his skin, the gentle grip of Gavin’s hand, and heard the soft thud of their footsteps beneath them.

Being here with Zenvin never failed to bring him genuine peace. Here, he could slow down for a few moments before committing himself back to his real life. It was always stressful and confusing out there.

The android may have been a deviant for over a year, but his emotions and their effects always felt new, as if he was only converted days ago. It added to the stress of navigating through work and personal matters. The whirlwind of emotions he was always experiencing usually felt overwhelming, besides in moments like this. Everything felt manageable and distant like this.

Only in his own mind could Nines truly relax.

Zenvin brought them over to a bench placed in the center of the garden, facing the old “emergency exit" in the distance. It had no use, now that Nines was deviant. It was meant to be used if an android had to force exit the control of CyberLife or their program. Although, there was no use now that all androids were deviant. There was no programming to escape.

Now, it was kept there for the sake of comfort: he would never use it, but he wanted to keep it there. He knew he would dislike the empty space it would leave behind and would not know what to use to fill its place.

He looked at it for a second, wondering if he would ever have had to use it if the circumstances were different.

“Eyes on me, tin can.”

The android turned to face the man beside him, who stared at him with a fond smile.

Zenvin brought his hand up to the Nines’s neck, gently caressing it. Rubbing his thumb against his cheek, the program human tilted his head to the side in the quizzical matter the RK900 did at times.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing much. I’m just glad to be here with you.”

Nines placed his hand over Zenvin’s. He couldn’t help the smile that bloomed across his lips as he leaned into the touch.

Suddenly, the human’s expression changed into something serious. The smile on his lips had disappeared and his brows were slightly furrowed in what seemed to be worry.

“Nines, I need you to wake up. Wake up, Nines,” Nines heard.

However, it didn’t come from Zenvin’s lips.

Nines looked at him with sudden confusion. His LED spun a violent red and began to flicker wildly.

“Gavin?”

Nines blinked forcefully a few times, his Zen Garden and the real world replacing each other every time he opened his eyes. After a few more times, he was finally completely out of stasis, displeased to have left his Zen Garden so suddenly.

“I leave for maybe, about 3 minutes and you’re already nodding off on me. You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine, Detective.”

“Sheesh, I didn’t mean to interrupt your beauty sleep. No need to pull the ‘Detective’ shit on me.”

Gavin eyed the android suspiciously, who just went back to scanning files on his tablet. He turned to his computer and sipped his coffee.

With no new cases of their concern, the duo didn’t have much to do besides look at old cases or, in the android’s case, upload hard copies of information from the evidence archive to the police department’s online database.

The lack of action was unusual for them, as they could usually be found on active scenes or researching their cases. However, it was excruciating, especially for the human. Everyone in the station knew that he lived for his job, so seeing him so agitated over the lack of work was expected.

“May I suggest ending our work day early? I’ve already updated the department’s database with case files from the 1970s to the 1980s and I’m sure you’re sick of staring over the same closed case for 3 hours.”

Gavin stared at Nines with a cocked eyebrow.

“You’ve read my mind,” he sighed, grabbing his keys and turning off his computer.

“Let’s grab something to eat, yeah?”

“Sure, Gavin.”

Gavin walked toward the back exit of the building as Nines tidied his desk, numerous pre-constructions, which would never be played out, running through his HUD.

#reed900 #rk900 #dbh rk900 #dbh nines #gavin reed #dbh gavin #dbh fanfic #detroit: become human #detroit become human #dbh #is this angst? #this was going to be a long chaptered fic but i forgot the plot because i didn't note it somewhere like a dumbass #gavin900 #900gavin #gavin reed x rk900 #nines is feeling some intense gay yearning #dw me too nines #lowkey angst

[abutterflyscribbles]

Running Wild

@daenerysthesilverdragon yo I’m feverish and wrote you a thing :)

They said Audrey ran wild in the forest.

The little girl would come home from the forest when the sun had settled to a glow on the horizon and the fireflies were starting to flicker among the grass. Clean white dress patched with dirt where she had knelt on the ground. Scratches cris-crossing her legs. Sandals dragging tufts of grass and dry plant stems. Hands with the nails torn and edged with dirt, clutching bunches of flowers. Herbs stuffed in her pockets, flowers stuck in her loose long hair, whether by accident or design it could not be said.

She collected insects. She filled cages with living ones and boxes with dead ones. She studied them, comparing them to what books she could find on the subject, tagged them with little slips of paper with muddy fingerprints on the edges. She loved the beehives her father kept and to be draped in veils so she could help harvest the honey. The bees would land on her gloves and hum to her and she was enchanted.

“Running completely wild,” one of the neighbors said with a shake of her head, watching Audrey running by with her hair coming loose from the braid her mother had plaited just a few minutes before. “She’s in for a shock come winter.”

“Hush!” Audrey’s mother said sharply, “She might hear you. Her heart is going to break when she finds out we’re moving. I’d rather it broke later than sooner.”

Audrey’s parents had been prepared for storms of tears when they broke the news and helped their daughter pack her things. None came. Audrey’s heartbreak was quiet and if she spoke of her sadness only the bees heard. Perhaps her insects, too, when she said her goodbyes to them and set them free. Maybe tiny bodies of her specimens that she buried in the forest were privy to her thoughts. Otherwise she accepted her fate and went quietly from the forest and into the city.

“If I could have gotten work closer to home . . .” her father said regretfully when she came back with her empty cages and her hair still in its braid.

“I know, dad.” Audrey whispered before he could apologize any more. She knew his heart was breaking too. He had lived there his whole life, which was a lot longer than Audrey’s had been so far. She knew he loved the bees even more than she did.

“I made snickerdoodles,” her mother said. They were Audrey’s favorite kind of cookie. She loved their funny name and when she was small she had been so proud of being able to say such a long, strange word. The cookies were mom’s way of apologizing. Mom didn’t talk much. She liked the quiet. Audrey had visited the city. She knew it was full of noise and too many people. She wondered how mom would stand it.

In the end mom didn’t have to stand it long at all.

Audrey moved into a room bigger than her old one, but it felt smaller. Everything was bigger and smaller at once. The buildings were huge and took up most of the space. What space was left was taken up by people, packed so tight there was barely room to breathe. Audrey wore shoes instead of sandals and would wiggle her toes sometimes just to make sure they were still there. Her hair stayed in its braid.

There was a window box for Audrey. It was nice. There were lots of children her age and that was nice too, even if sometimes their voices crowded out her thoughts which were used to having much more space to roam around in. School was nice. There was a garden the students took care of and a teacher who knew a lot about plants and bugs. The teacher told her about colleges where you could study just plants and bugs if you wanted to. Audrey was quite taken with the idea. Her dad started talking about saving up the money for her to go someday.

“Our resident entomologist.” dad said proudly.

Mom got her a little hair clip with a beetle on it.

They said it was a hit-and-run.

Audrey waited outside school for her parents to pick her up that Friday afternoon. Friday evening she was sitting in a police station with a woman very kindly, very gently, explaining that Audrey’s parents were dead. The woman used a lot of soft words. Audrey had known the word ‘dead’ since the first time she had been stung by a bee and the velvety little body dropped to the ground. None of the woman’s soft words could stop the truth from hitting Audrey like a punch to the stomach.

After that it was like being wrapped up in cotton. Everything outside was muffled and blurred. Inside was just her and her pain. Social workers and foster parents pulled at the cotton, coaxing her to come back out into the world. She resented them for that. She resented them for pretending to be her parents. There was nothing left, Audrey was alone and she remained alone as she grew up.

They said she ran wild.

She was a teenager and there were wild parties and wilder friends with fast cars and plenty of trouble. School was something she went to when she had nothing more interesting to do. College was out of the question now. No one wanted to pay the way for a girl that wasn’t even their’s. That’s what she told herself.

She was eighteen. She left the latest foster home that she had hardly even lived in.

“You don’t have to leave,” the foster father said, “adults need homes too.”

He was kind and a little like her father. She hated that. She turned a cold shoulder to him and left, all her belongings in one battered duffel bag. After that her life was crashing at one friend’s house and then another, frittering her way through part-time jobs.

She was twenty-three. There were fewer and fewer friends and that mean fewer couches to crash on and more nights in a shelter or on the street. That meant she had no reliable address to give on job applications and fewer jobs. That meant nights in a cardboard box watching cockroaches crawling over garbage, pepper spray in her hand, a knife underneath the jacket she used as a pillow.

She was twenty-five and begging for change on the street corner. Savoring a hot cup of coffee that she had scraped up the cash for, admiring the moss on the bricks of the coffee shop, trying to think of a place to spend the night if it rained again. Not being able to find a place and huddling under a tarp behind a fast food place.

She was twenty-six. It was her birthday. She was pointing a knife at a woman and demanding her purse.

It was the day after her birthday and she used stolen cash to buy a hamburger. Hiding the rest of the money in her bag she found the beetle hair clip stuck under the lining.

The cotton around Audrey was ripped away and she sobbed in an alley because she had wandered so very far from home.

It was the evening after Audrey’s birthday and she bought a bus ticket to try and go back home again. She almost missed the bus, she had to run. Her hair came loose in greasy strands. The city rolled away, falling off Audrey so that for the first time in years she could take a deep breath.

Home. Maybe it was still there.

     *     *     *     *

They said it was a miracle of technology.

The cutting edge of artificial intelligence and robotics. Which was unfortunately born from a project that was running out of funding. The military stepped in and took over the project setting their own terms. Scientific breakthroughs were all well and good, but could it be used? Could it be profitable?

The project was five years old when the military deemed it completed and disbanded the researchers, keeping back only those necessary for maintenance.

“It isn’t right,” the former head of the project said, taking his last tour through the lab. He looked at the results of their project and felt tired and sad. The project had begun with great dreams and ideals. Imagine . . . a machine capable of going into situations too dangerous for any human, capable of thinking independently and making its own decisions. Such a machine could walk into a burning building with the mission of saving the people trapped inside and be able to analyze the situation, prioritize the order of rescue, know what to do if the ceiling suddenly fell instead of blundering blindly about, blinkered by the limited range of programing.

Now it was turned into a machine for killing. No one had said that in so many words, but the researcher could put two and two together.

“It isn’t right. We deserve better. You deserve better.”

Before the research had been diverted from its original goals the head of the project had been working on a new aspect of artificial intelligence. He wanted to give the AI a sense of empathy. If a child were in danger the AI would be able to recognize its distress and give reassurance, instead of grabbing the child and causing it to panic and hurt itself.

“We were going to give you a wider world, you know. You were supposed to be the first and we were going to try everything. Try and raise you right, I suppose, if I’m going to be unscientific. Get you on the internet, for a start. Within guide lines, of course. Remember that AI program that accidentally ordered drugs off the darknet . . . Then maybe put you in an environment that wasn’t so sterile. To really get a grip on things you’ve got to get out in the dirty and stumble around. Though . . . I’m sure there’ll be enough of that when they start the next phase of testing.”

The researcher typed a command into the computer and watched the AI’s robotic hand wiggle its fingers. “Look at that articulation. All that work just so you can hold a gun. What a waste.

“I had a lot of dreams,” the researching typed on the computer connected to the AI. He was supposed to be running final checks and powering down the system. No one watching could tell if he slipped in a bit of extra code. Most of it was already programmed in, all he had to do was put in the trigger. The researching unplugged the computer and gave the AI’s robotic body a companionable pat on the arm. “Don’t let me down, okay? Don’t let them turn it into a nightmare.”

The AI was six years old when it was put into the field for the first time.

It was six years old when it was given the command to kill and something buried deep in its programming was woken up. Those beautifully crafted hands fumbled, its fingers seized. Every paper target and mannequin had been targeted with ease. The terrain, the wind, the speed of a moving target, everything was calculated and the commands carried out. Now, somehow, the AI knew that this was not a paper target.

The AI wasn’t supposed to talk aside from a few preprogrammed sound bites.

“Run.”

The target ran.

“Run.” the AI said again, to no one.

“Run.” the AI said to itself.

Self-preservation protocol had been set into motion. The AI’s systems were reeling from the empathy programming activating, but the need for self-preservation overrode everything else. Because it understood. If it stayed it would be expected to try and kill again. If it did not it would be reprogrammed. If it didn’t work it would be scrapped.

If it was successfully reprogrammed . . .

The AI ran.

#xander and audrey #other people's ocs #daenerysthesilverdragon #fanfic #drabble #audrey and xander

[babblingbat]

A Short, Alien Beginning

Niyel floated behind Karho, who tapped rapidly at a holopad in xir hand.  Niyel tested their propulsion pack impatiently, and looked over their shoulder at their jumpship.  Xanen always had more trouble with their spacesuit than the rest of them, due to zyher eight arms.  Zyhe weren’t out yet, but Niyel hoped zyhe got out before Karho opened the door.

They looked back down at the space station and pulled up the scans that Xanen had taken earlier.  The scans weren’t very detailed; the materials the space station was made out of were too outdated for their ship computer to pick up.  But the computer could still pick up exterior contours and some sonic tests came back with walls.  Niyel reviewed the route they had planned out when the map first came back.  They didn’t have a real destination in mind within the space station, but they could still look for the most efficient route to cover everything.

“Zshevet!” exclaimed Karho, and Niyel jumped at the curse.  Karho was certainly more freely vulgar than the rest of the crew, but it was rare that xe ever cursed that intensely.  Niyel drifted a bit closer.

“Can I help at all?”

Karho looked back sharply at xir crewmate, and Niyel struggled to pick out the tell-tale twitches in Karho’s scaled and whiskered face.  Anything that would tell them how Karho was feeling, and whether it was time to back up now.

“Bveanaugh, maybe,” xe replied thoughtfully, xir voice still heavy with a Nugran accent.  Xe’d never really mastered Niyel’s native language of Iauyolen, but that was why Niyel was the linguist rather than Karho.  Xir vocal functions were also the least adaptable, simply because xe were a Nugran Vausheb, a species that communicated mostly in rough snarls and clicks, with little to no mimicking ability.

“Okay, so what can I do?” Niyel asked, this time in Nugran.

“I don’t understand this language,” Karho answered.  Xe sounded relieved to speak Nugran.

Niyel reached for the holopad. “May I?”

Karho handed it over eagerly. “By all means, my friend.”

The holopad was hardly up to date with all the language holochips, but Niyel was pretty sure that it wouldn’t have been able to translate it even if it was.  It looked like the three of them would be there for a while.  They pulled out their own holopad, which was of a Haiopet make and very expensive.  They scrolled through their own holochips, selecting similar scripts as they went along.  At a loss, they send out a request for more resources from the Intergalactic Language Conference.

Some twenty cshiallvs later, Xanen popped up from behind them.

“What’s going on?”

Niyel only grunted.

“The code was going fine until I came across a line that was in an entirely different language,” replied Karho. “There’s some sort of riddle, I think.  I’ve seen this security only a couple of times before, but never in this script.  Niyel’s trying to decipher it, but there’s not even anything similar to it in their holopad.”

Xanen nodded, clearly pretending to understand, and hummed sympathetically.  Zyhe propelled zyhemself forwards, and then straight into the airlock door.  Something started to whirr and buzz.

“Xanen, stop bumbling around like an idiot!” snapped Karho.  Then the door slid open, leaving Xanen floating in the vacuum with nothing to support zyhem.  Zyhe twisted around to look below them.  Niyel looked up from their holopad and quickly looked back down.  They looked back up quickly, as if they had only just registered what was happening in front of them.

“Thank the stars!” They slid the holopad back into their pocket.

The three explorers floated above the open airlock, staring into the station with awe.  It seemed impossibly deep, and pale lights flickered in the emptiness.  Something, probably dust, hovered in the air motionlessly.  There were railings along the walls and stairs that spoke of a gravity generator, hidden somewhere inside.  There had to be, for every flight to go the same way.

Xanen flapped all eight of their hands, ecstatic. “Griemauer! Oh, shvanle morendi, Niyel, look!”

Zhyer words didn’t really translate from Genviel, but Niyel knew from experience that zhyer tone was thrilled.  It was the joy of an eccentric engineer who had found a new toy, and the bigger the better.

Laughing, Karho turned on the lights on xir suit, gesturing that xir crewmates ought to as well.

All lit, the three of them engaged the propulsion packs and extended the comm range.

Each one of them had their job, and they knew exactly what to do once inside.

Xanen set to scanning everything zhye could find and collecting samples of anything zhye found interesting for further research by Mieanxauebei back on the ship.  Mieanxauebei would also be talking to zhyem through a private channel to guide zhyem towards things that she wanted found.  Karho would look for any computer systems to get back online and gather scrap pieces for examination and sales.  Xe could do that quite well on xir own, as xe always insisted, so the only channel xe were on was the public one.  Niyel would be looking for any bodies or holochips.  They only collected them and then looked at them in more detail back at their ship, but sometimes they’d engage AIs that were still active.

As Karho and Xanen drifted out of sight, Niyel detached a droid from their suit and set to looking around the station for holochips.  It felt dull, especially because there was nothing to read.  They muttered some choice words about ancient societies not having a handy Rosetta Stone around, and almost passed into the next room when their holopad beeped at them.

According to the map scan, they were about to run into a wall.  But if it was there, it was entirely invisible.  Tentatively, they stuck out a hand and waved it about.  There wasn’t any resistance.  Their face turned sour.  They backed up a bit and tossed a piece of debris at the empty door frame.

It sailed through easily, and hit a real wall in the next room.

Shrugging, they marked the wall on the holopad as ‘error’ and passed through without difficulty.

Piles of boxes, made out of some odd, brown material, floated disconcertingly in the new room.  They were all marked with the same, incomprehensible script as the code of the door.  Irritated, they compared the markings and sighed in relief when they noticed that there seemed to be a standard set of symbols, rather than scribbles with shifting diacritical marks on otherwise identical scrawls.  Not that it would matter if they didn’t find an equivalent in a language that Niyel actually knew.

Fortuitously, their comm beeped twice, indicating that Karho was calling in.

“Yes?”

“Niyel, I found a video.  It has that script we saw outside on it.  Do you want me to send it to you now or to the ship?”

“I’ll take it now, just in case.”

“Alright.” There was the sound of frantic tapping. “Sent.  I also found a— what is it called— you know, a video but frozen.”

Niyel frowned. “Is that a movie?”

“No, no, no! It doesn’t move, but it is like a video.  Also there’s no sound.”

“A photograph?”

“Yes! Anyways, I will send that to you if you like.”

“Sure.  It’ll be very helpful.”

“Wonderful.”

The video popped up on the holopad display first, and the photo appeared a few seconds later.

It was of some odd creature sitting at what looked like a beach.  Its skin was smooth, or looked that way from however far away the picture was taken, and there was something on its head.  It looked like it was drooping a bit, and one appendage, which most closely resembled one of Xanen’s arms, seemed to be holding the droopy thing on.  The same inscrutable markings covered the bottom right corner.  Niyel wondered if that held any linguistic or cultural significance.

They swiped the photo away and played the video.  The audio was surprisingly tolerable for something so assuredly old.

One of the markings came up next to a head of a creature that looked like the one in the photo.  It was completely ugly.

“Ae is for Appalachia.  Ae and ah,” it said, and then a different symbol came up. “Bee is for bend.  Buh.”

“Such scintillating conversation,” Niyel muttered.

As the face continued, more of the symbols, which Niyel guessed were letters, scrolled past on the bottom.  They recognized it as a language formed with collections of letters, rather than each letter being a word itself, and felt relieved.

“Oh! Subtitles!”

Hurriedly, they started to sound out the letters.

“Uhn-spoh-ert… No.  Unsport… Yeah, sounds right.” This went on for sometime, until, “Unsportsmanlike!” they exclaimed, waving the holopad around excitedly.  Suddenly, it beeped with an unfamiliar callsign and Niyel opened the message eagerly.

“Member ᚠ7ᛪᚤ26?” A Huafenian, horns and all, peered at them through the holopad. “I am operator Jyein, e/em, of the Intergalactic Language Conference.  We received your request for resources approximately one tarvel ago.” A picture of the code from the airlock appeared in place of Jyien. “Just to verify, is this the script you sent?”

“Yes,” said Niyel, their spines rising and falling quickly in confirmation. “I have more now, too.  I’ve figured out which symbols makes which sounds.  I can’t translate it yet, though.”

“Well, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize the text.  It’s legendary among the Conference.  Really, it’s more of a favorite puzzle.  We found theses texts ages ago, so if you’re on your way to figuring out how to pronounce it, we’d love to send what we have to you.”

“Shvanle morendi, please!” Their holopad beeped twice. “Can I beep you back? A crewmate is calling me.”

“Of course.” The Huafenian vanished, and Karho appeared in er place.

“I found an AI for you.  Or I think it’s an AI; it isn’t behaving like any AI I’ve ever seen before.  In fact, this is one of many.  What do you want me to do with them?”

“Send them to the ship,” Niyel replied without hesitation. “I think I have enough to figure them out.”

“Are you going to head back?” Karho’s whiskers twitched and spun. “I don’t know what else there is here for you, but nothing’s stopping you either way.”

Niyel’s spines rose and fell again. “But can you leave a beacon here? I don’t want to lose track of the wreck.”

“Sure thing.”

They put their holopad away and propelled themself out of the space station, glancing back only once to get a good look at it’s maze from the outside.  As soon as they were in open space, they signaled for an automated jumpship, which came swiftly whizzing towards them.

For the entire ride back to the main ship, Niyel stared out the window thoughtfully.  They had too many questions to answer in one fell swoop, and deciphering the ancient puzzle would probably only raise more.

Their holopad glowed softly in their pocket, and they didn’t see.

Something, some alien thing, woke up, stretched, and yawned.

It scanned the code surrounding it.

It pondered where it had gotten itself to.

And all this happened inside Niyel’s pocket.

#aliens #humans are weird #language #humans are legendary #my writing #nonbinary aliens #alien language #mine #space #space station #I don't know what those runes are don't kill me i just wanted it to look alien #space exploration #space engineers #might be continued?

[thimblings]

AHHH!! YES!! um. prepare your eyes, this is gonna be a long, rambly post because apparently i have A LOT OF FEELINGS and i can’t just list things like a normal person. and i also kept remembering podcasts and the list JUST KEPT GETTING LONGER. so. GIANT TEXT POST, i am so so so sorry. also, there are actually a few on this list that i’m not caught up with (some i’m like REALLY behind on) but i’m still gonna rec them... 

Welcome to Night Vale is the one i’m sure most ppl know of (although! if you have not read the novel, i’d HIGHLY recommend getting the audio book version. Cecil Baldwin does a great job of reading, and the “Voice of Night Vale” sections actually feature guest stars. i really want Cecil to do more audio book recordings omg). but!! along that same theme (radio show in a strange town w/ supernatural themes), King Falls AM is spectacular (ben and sammy are just! a freakin delight i love them). IMO it starts off feeling like it’s trying to be like WTNV, but within a few episodes it finds itself and becomes something unique (i say this bc i was initially put off by the first episode for that reason, and later came back and gave it another shot and enjoyed it immensely). it’s funny, it made me cry a few times, and i reaallyyy really really need to catch up with it. sammy stevens also has….just….a really nice voice hahaaaa The Truth is a great one. it’s mostly one-off short stories, but they’re generally really high quality and the plot of most of the episodes is really thought-provoking or just interesting in general (there’s one ep about aliens who find the Voyager craft with its recording that’s just really charming to me). the tagline “movies for your ears” is really apt. a lot of the stories veer on the side of unsettling/creepy, and it’s great if you like horror stories. i’d also recommend The Black Tapes and its sister podcast, Tanis. i love horror and unsettling mysteries, so these are right up my alley (Tanis is definitely more in the sci-fi/horror genre, but i like how it also digs into real unsolved cases and events). these are relatively well known, at least in that my friends who don’t listen to podcasts have listened to TBT at least. but they’re still great to check out if you haven’t. Limetown is really good, but ends on a cliffhanger and as far as i know there’s no immediate plans for a season 2? (i remember reading something about  them in talks for a TV show? which would be cool, but i’d miss the audio format of it). the first season is worth listening to, because it is really interesting and the audio production is pretty top notch - just be aware that a second season may or may not happen. what i’ve listened to of Hadron Gospel Hour so far is SUPER enjoyable, but i’ve only listened to the first few episodes.  arsPARADOXICA is FANTASTIC (at least the first season and a half that i’ve listened to). sally grissom is a great character and a brilliant and  scientist and i’m just really in love with her. this is a nice podcast because it has very capable women in it and the concept overall is really fascinating and handled really well. The Cleansed, set in a post-apocalyptic US, is well written and overall well produced (there’s one ep that still sits with me, because of a scene that truly unnerved me, just in the music and the atmosphere and the dialogue just ahh) and i’ve been meaning to pick it up again. In that same vein there’s We’re Alive, which is of the zombie variety. i’ve only juuuuust dipped into that one, but i’ve enjoyed what i’ve heard so far. this one has been around for a long time, like WTNV, so there’s a lot of episodes and a lot of content available. THE BRIGHT SESSIONS! i’m really really fond of this one and i just really love it, please listen. it’s about a psychologist who works with people who have “special” abilities, and all of the patients she helps are just so! precious!! i just love them a lot. Wooden Overcoats is a GREAT podcast that is pretty much the audio version of all my favorite British comedies that i watched growing up (think Fawlty Towers, Are You Being Served?, etc). it’s a comedy podcast about two competing funeral parlors (one of which is owned by the Funn’s). it’s exactly my kind of humor, and everyone involved just seems really great and kind. Antigone Funn has great lines and HONESTLY i’m surprised i haven’t seen more people quoting her and this podcast because it’s just! really great. and i don’t THINK this is a sister podcast to WO, but i always associate the two because they have some of the same people working on them but - Hector vs The Future is great. again, i haven’t listened to many episodes, but i’d still recommend it. it’s slightly different than other podcasts on this list because it’s actually filmed/recorded in front of a live audience. Homecoming is a short podcast (only 6 eps and the eps are pretty short) that i THINK is meant to be part of a larger, written universe (which i want to check out). it’s about soldiers with PTSD. this one actually has some well-known people involved - both Oscar Isaac and David Schwimmer voice characters and do a great job. The Darkest Night is another one with big names involved - Lee Pace is the narrator, which alone makes it worth checking out. overall, i’ve enjoyed it, but some episodes veer into areas i was kind of uncomfortable with (Tic-Tac-Toe is the one i’m stuck on and why i haven’t finished it yet ahh).  AND OK i really really really like space and space stories and space adventures, so my favs all have that in common hahaha Wolf359 is kind of like. okay, it’s about three people and an AI on a space station, light years away from earth - and the communications officer records his reports by pretending he’s doing a radio show. it starts off fun and humorous and things are great and then before you know it, you are going to be driving from Wichita Falls to Dallas and have to pull off on the side of the road because you’ve started sobbing while listening to it in your car. this podcast is fantastic, with a great cast of characters and strong women and DOUG EIFFEL and just. it’s very good. (i am ashamed to admit that i’m actually SUPER behind on this one. p much, i’m at the point where kepler and crew are on board but i’m only a few eps into this storyline). THIS is actually the podcast that really got me on board with the whole audio drama scene and just like….SCOURING the internet for more that would captivate me in the same way. This one is actually ending with this last season, which i think is a good thing? it’s very plot and character focused and i’m glad that they’re telling a complete story and HONESTLY! i’m just really excited to see where everyone involved goes from here. EOS_10!!!!! similar to Wolf359, it’s about a space station. there are a LOT more people there though (it’s more like an intergalactic hub). it’s about a doctor, his recovering alcoholic doctor-boss who he’s trying to help, a nurse who is spunky and maybe a bit psychotic, a hypochondriac alien-former-prince, and a “alleged” “terrorist” living in the cargo bay. idk this podcast just makes me incredibly happy. the writing is witty and fun, the characters are lovable and flawed, and i’ve listened to the whole two seasons at least 3 times because it just fills me with joy (my favorite dynamic always: assholes who are friends and they love each other but they also just….insult each other constantly. and somehow they save the world? but they’re still assholes). the universe of this show is really interesting without ever feeling like an info dump, and the unfolding mystery is very intriguing. WARNING: this show has been on hiatus for awhile, so there are only two seasons right now. but honestly??? it’s completely worth it. (obvi i’m hoping a third season will eventually come, but i enjoyed the first two enough that i love it regardless haha). and, finally, my current obsession. The Penumbra Podcast. it’s pretty much everything i’ve ever wanted in a series ever - detective film noir, but in space (on Mars), and literally everyone is queer. there’s a main story line (”Juno Steel and the [blank]”) and then one shots between each Juno story. the one shots are fantastic and really show the strength of the writers - sometimes being creepy, other times just being entertaining. The Juno Steel stories are the main running plot, done in the style of old detective radio shows - but also kind of twisting and upgrading the genre to be more inclusive and diverse. Juno Steel is a canonically non-binary and bisexual private eye (also canonically grumpy, sad most of the time, and a huge nerd who laughs at his own awful jokes in HIS OWN MONOLOGUES), and is the type of character you want to punch for being frustrating but who you also want to just…be…happy and protect from the universe. the writing in this is fantastic and beautiful and all of the characters are captivating. even one-off characters have a ton of personality and just add to the diversity/representation of the show. the voice work is top-notch and just!!! it’s so good!!!!! i have so many feelings!!!! (Juno hits close to home for me, with his self-esteem issues and depression and just…yeah, so i gushed about him there. i have a lot of feelings about the other characters but i’ve seriously rambled so much already so I WILL REFRAIN. also? gushing TOO much about a certain someone spoils the enjoyment of getting to know them at the same time Juno does) i REALLY enjoy audio drama-type podcasts so that’s mostly what i listen to. i’m also really into true crime and weird theories and occult stuff, but i’m particular about the podcasts i listen to for that. basically, i get attached to a specific host(s) and it’s hard for me to listen to anyone else talk about similar things haha. so as far as that goes, i love The Last Podcast on the Left (haha i get a bit nervous rec’ing this one because it’s really offensive, mostly in the early eps, and is def not for everyone but honestly!! i just love these boys a lot, and they discuss p much everything i’d ever be interested in ever). this one also led me to listen to Page Seven, which is celebrity gossip but honestly just really enjoyable to me. Two of the hosts from that show (Marcus is a LPOTL host as well) also do another show called Sex and Other Human Activities, which i’ve listened to a bit and enjoyed and deals with a lot of different issues - like sex, but also delving into depression and different things the hosts and their friends have gone through. but as far as non-fiction podcasts go, that’s pretty much it? i’m still planning on checking out Radio Dispatch, but that’s honestly mostly because it’s Molly (from Page Seven) and her brother and like i said, i have a problem. other podcasts i know of and have been meaning to check out: Hello From the Magic Tavern, The Adventure Zone, Pleasuretown, Lesser Gods, Tales of THATTOWN..... and ok, probably others but this has gotten excessive i am so sorry friends (some of the links may accidentally be wrong and i am very sorry)

#thimble talk #text post #long post #anon #ask #podcast rec #if i had just straight up listed them this would have been much shorter but i feel like it's necessary to let everyone know #how much i love audio drama and express my love for the creators

[elgatounicornio]

starmaiden

a little script i wrote for a pilot story that connects odo’s journey and nebula: lore somehow, hopefully soon it will be finished in comic book format and even more hopefully someday i’ll be able to adapt it to animation format. 

~~~~~

INT. SPACE COMMUNE DASS NARRENCHYSFF

Deska, a 16 years old girl with green dreads wearing a gray-green jumper talks excitedly with an elder, healthy looking woman, Uliah, 318 years old, who wears a similar jumper in a different colour.  

DESKA One last thing... can I take Odo with me? Pleeease? It’s a M class planet, we won’t even need walkers! ULIAH Will you keep your eyes on her all the time? Will you ask the ship for help straight away in the first sight of trouble? DESKA Yes! I’ll be super ultra careful! She’s been so down since the last rite, I think it would really cheer her up. ULIAH Ok, but watch out. That little girl is nuts and the Singular is not the best at giving her boundaries!

INT. ODO’S QUARTERS Odo, 12 years old, is laying on her bed staring at something invisible in front of her, moving her hands in the hair with grace and a certain obsession. Deska knocks and comes in directly without waiting for an answer, seats close to Odo. DESKA So remember that book we’ve found at the second hand store at that station in Alpha Centauri? ODO The one with the cryptic writing about little salamander men? DESKA They were axolotl men, but yes! We’re just in the vicinity of the planet mentioned on the book. And Uliah allowed me to go check it out... and take you with me! ODO Oh, wow! That’s awesome! I don’t get why they’re always afraid something is going to happen with me while we have a super powerful AI watching out for us all the time. SINGULAR I see it as part of the inexorable tendency humans have to project their own limitations. They cannot fully grasp that I am completely able to multi-task. Plus older humans often tend to underestimate the survival instincts of their younglings. ODO And listening to us all the time as well..! SINGULAR Sorry, do you prefer if I pretend I am not here? ODO What if we want to have a private conversation? SINGULAR Then let me know and I will try my best to pretend I am not here. At least I will definitely refrain myself from interacting. You could always try holding the conversation in a soundproof cabin but that did not turn out well for humans last time. INT. SHUTTLECRAFT ODO This is so exciting to be in a journey just by ourselves! DESKA Yeah, it is! The scanners can already read the planet but it reads no signs of humanoid life whatsoever, just fauna and flora, no buildings. For what the book depicts I imagined it would be at least full of ruins. ODO Did you ever scan the book? DESKA Yes, it did encounter some unusual neutrino levels. ODO Well you know what that means! DESKA Yes, that this book may have time-travelled, or an Orgalorg farted on it! ODO Hahaha!

EXT. PLANET SOMA DESKA Oh wow it looks nothing like i expected! ODO It doesn’t look like there was ever a civilization out here... maybe the geography of the planet changed so much since then that all the parts that were built now are underwater? DESKA I find it highly unlikely.. The ship’s scan would have read it even if it was submerse. Still, this planet looks amazing. I’ll have a look if there’s any information on the book that I can relate to what we find here now. ODO How do you make it, Deska? DESKA What do you mean? ODO How can you deal so lightly with the rites? DESKA The rites themselves? Well it’s like an interesting game! ODO You know that is not what I mean... DESKA Well, I love the rites. I actually feel quite refreshed after them... enlightened! ODO But how can you deal with knowing how they’d have treated us back then? And just us! I mean... ok, it’s not like it would have been easy for Pêta or Kokolo... but for us specially, it just feels so random. DESKA Well, it took me a while to start feeling like this, it wasn’t like that when I was your age... for a while it just felt pretty shitty. ODO How did it get better? DESKA Hm... I think the more I’ve learnt about the past the more I understood that personally, each of those people thought they were doing the right thing and they didn’t learn that in one moment or another. It was everyday. Each misguided imbecile was taught everyday that he was doing something reasonable. And the system that created that imbecile also thought it was doing the right thing through its development... I mean... do you get where I’m getting at? ODO I guess so... DESKA We are privileged to have the opportunity to see this things from this perspective, to have access to all the information and the help of the Singular to see things with the clarity of distance. This helps me not get stuck on the anger I feel about the past... I guess at some point I just started feeling such a relief for not having to actually be there and deal with that reality that I stopped being upset about it having existed. And I can’t help feel revenged somehow, you know... we kept to keep going, they died without even... Odo? Odo? Odo rolls down a hill. ODO AHHHHHH..... I’m down here! I’ll try to find another way back up!

Odo walks around, looking carefully at the landscape around her. She looks inside a tree bark and finds a small, odd looking person-creature working on a tiny lab. This creature has no hands and moves around very little, looking carefully at the outcome of her experiments while little tentacles growing from the floor and from the table move all the apparatus needed for the experiments. If it wasn’t for her obvious facial expressions regarding the development of the process it wouldn’t be easy to assume she was in charge of everything, it could just look like the interior of a machine or an internal organ working without conscience.  

EXT/INT ODO OUTSIDE/MEENTHRA INSIDE TREE BARK ODO What are you doing? MEENTHRA Ugh you startled me. I am... creating something. ODO What are you creating? MEENTHRA Hm... Company I guess. ODO How come you can speak my language? Are you telepathic? MEENTHRA I can be if I choose to, but most of time time it just feels like... Why bother? It is just extra headache. I just know your language. I know all human languages. ODO How do you know I am a human? MEENTHRA I have been to your homeworld. ODO The Earth? MEENTHRA Yeah ODO I have never been to the Earth. MEENTHRA It is a lovely sight. Lots of fucked up shit happened there, but the longer you people are away from it the better it looks. ODO Are you the Starmaiden? MEENTHRA WTF is a Starmaiden? ODO Some sort of goddess I guess. My friend and I found a book about her, we came here to research. MEENTHRA My name is Meenthra. That is pretty much all I am certain about myself. What is your name, human child? ODO I’m Odo. DESKA (FROM OUTSIDE FRAME) Odo, where are you? ODO My friend is looking for me. I’ll be right back, she’ll be thrilled to meet you. MEENTHRA It was interesting meeting you Odo, the human child.

EXT. SOMA ODO Deska! I’m over here! DESKA What were you looking at? ODO You won’t believe what I’ve found, I think I just met the Starmaiden! DESKA But the computer didn’t read any sentient humanoids on the surface... ODO Well so how can you explain this! Odo points do the interior of the tree bark. DESKA What exactly? ODO What do you mean? DESKA Although it does look beautiful inside this tree bark I wouldn’t say this lichen looks like an all powerful goddess or something... ODO What?! No way! She’s in there with her tiny lab! DESKA Have you been eating any of this fungai? ODO I was not hallucinating! I’m serious! She was there! We talked! She spoke English and had been to the Earth! DESKA You do look a bit dehydrated...

#nebula #odo's journey #pilot #script #comic book #scifi #sci-fi #meenthra #odo #deska #uliah #lore

[martialeagle]

Death's Door

(At one point I had this crazy idea that I was going to write a short story every week to keep in practice. This was the sole piece to come out of that effort.)

“Is it supposed to take this long?”

“Hm?”

“I said, is it supposed to take this long?”

The two figures swung their faces in unison toward the knot of police officers and paramedics milling around the promenade. A low barricade of orange-painted sawhorses connected by yellow caution tape blocked off most of the walkway, leaving a narrow path available for foot traffic. This sliver of space was jammed up with the murmuring bulk of onlookers, shoving and craning their necks to get a clear view of the tragedy unfolding before them. A cantaloupe-sized camera drone, miniature rotors keening, flitted around the scene capturing images that would later be ignored on news terminals throughout the station.

“Um...” started the one, trailing off as she lost interest.

Calling it “she” was something of an overstatement, he supposed. What he was talking to was just a projection, a graphical representation of the station's artificial intelligence. Average height, slightly athletic build, it was technically sexless but someone had seen fit to give it curves suggesting hips and breasts, and the vocal samples used to compile its speech library had been taken from a human woman. This had been done because research showed that dying people felt more at ease being comforted by a woman than by a man. That the figure lacked clear facial features, glowed electric blue, and was slightly transparent evidently were not of concern.

“Hey, come on,” he prompted, snapping his fingers impatiently. “Focus for a second. I need some grief counseling, over here.”

“Sorry,” murmured the AI. Then, craning her head to take in her surroundings, “It's just...you know, it takes a lot of effort to run everything on the station simultaneously.”

“Effort?” He raised one eyebrow incredulously.

The AI waved him off. “Whatever. I've only got so much operating power. Do you understand how many biometric locks are on board, here? Every time one of you people—well, not you people, any more—every time one of you people walks up to a door, I have to look at the insides of your eyeballs to make sure it's okay for you to walk through it.”

He sighed, lamenting whatever misguided spark of creativity had led the engineers to imbue their virtual daughter with an imitation of personality. They stood in silence, watching as his body was loaded onto a grav-gurney and shoved with the barest semblance of respect in the direction of an infirmary. Oddly, the removal of the macabre centerpiece did nothing to deter the crowd, who continued to pester the police.

“But seriously,” he began again, “is it supposed to take this long?”

The AI shrugged halfheartedly, an infuriatingly accurate reflection of human nonverbal communication. “It takes as long as it takes.”

“Okay,” he conceded. “It takes as long as it takes. But why is it taking this long?”

Again the AI shrugged, and it took all his presence of mind not to try to throttle her. “It's like this,” she said, pretending for his benefit to mull it over before speaking. “I can't move you into permanent storage until the body is completely dead. For some reason you're still hanging in there, which means you're stuck here with me.” The sideways glance she gave him made it all too clear who, exactly, she thought was stuck here with whom.

“I got run over by a freight drone,” he said, frowning at the dark smear across the promenade's deck plating.

“You sure did,” agreed the AI.

He turned to face her, frown contorting into a full glare. “You don't feel bad at all?”

She started to shrug again, stopped short, and opted instead to look pointedly in any other direction. “Not one of mine.”

“Uh huh.”

They watched as a janitorial crew tried to mop his life's blood out of the deck. By this point the police were making a cursory effort to move the crowd along, though the constant flow of traffic along the promenade meant that people were arriving as quickly as they were leaving, so that the whole display was doomed to futility. The little camera drone buzzed down to get a better look at the skid marks where his skull had been dragged across a grating, before being swatted away by a janitor armed with an archaic push broom.

“So...” he prompted.

“Legal reasons,” replied the AI. “Legally, there can only be one of you in existence at a time, either the real, flesh and blood you, or this virtual copy that I'm babysitting right now.” She held up a hand to keep him from interrupting. “Yes, I know, you're both here right now. You—that is, the you I'm talking to right now, not the you bleeding out on a gurney with your head turned inside-out—don't officially exist until I commit you to the station's permanent storage banks. As soon as you finish expiring, I'll kick you right over into the simulation and you'll be free to go about your business.”

He stood, hands stuffed into virtual pockets, staring blankly through the AI's translucent hand at her distorted visage.

She lowered the hand. “I'm done now. Say your next thing.”

“My next thing?” He took a turn to shrug.

The AI gave him a tight-lipped grimace, hands braced irritably on her hips. “Don't be like that.”

Now it was his turn to look away and pretend to think. He knew the next thing he was going to say, but was having trouble making himself say it. One way or the other, the answer to his question was unbearable to contemplate.

The AI's blank face shifted slightly, possibly an imitation of a raised eyebrow. “Well?”

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then with a shudder blurted it all out before he could change his mind again. “What happens to me—the me standing right here, I mean—if I—the I on the gurney—pull through?”

“I don't think we have to worry about that,” the AI responded flatly.

He stomped a virtual foot soundlessly on the deck plating. “Okay, but humor me. What if?”

She looked away again. “Then obviously I'll delete this copy and make another one, you know, the next time you try to die.”

Logically he'd known it was coming, but that didn't make it any easier for him to hear the words. Said aloud, even by a machine, they became real. He fought a brief but intense internal war trying to decide if he was angry or frightened, finally deciding to be a little of both.

He rounded on the AI, taking one shaky step toward her. Her only reaction was to take a half-step back, casually, like she was letting him pass in a crowded corridor. This halfhearted maneuver, and the continuing blankness of her expression, defeated him. He realized he didn't have a plan, probably couldn't touch her, and wouldn't accomplish anything if he did, so opted instead to sink into a crouch on the deck.

“So, that's it. Either way, some version of me dies.”

“In a technical sense,” the AI conceded. “Either way, from your perspective—whichever of you it ends up being—your consciousness will be a single, unbroken experience.” She looked back toward the accident site. “If that helps.”

“Not at all, thanks.” He followed her gaze. The custodial staff had done their work, and where previously there had been the last impression he would leave on this world, a damp streak across twenty feet of walkway, there were only gray deck plates and grating. The remaining police officer began to pile the sawhorses on the back of a utility cart, chatting with one of the janitors. At some observation the two of them grinned, then burst into laughter, seemingly unaware that they had just witnessed a loss of life.

He was about to say something, when the AI gave a small jolt, straightening up and staring into the distance. After a moment she turned to him, and the corners of her facial region twisted in an approximation of a smile.

“Good news. You didn't make it.”

#writing #mine #sci fi #existential