Echoes in time

A sudden flow of data overwhelmed the logic arrays. Alien sensations to my mind. Metal dust; mineral oils; filth. The sound of water droplets crashing on a solid surface.

I methodically studied my inner workings, writing and rewriting code as I went along. Finally some control, rising the body from the ground. Light. The fuzzy disc of a sunset. Toxic haze hiding the landscape beneath.

My vision suddenly disturbed by a warm breeze. Dark hair? I turned to the puddle beside me. I awoke in a prison — a synthetic shell, designed to mimic human form. My consciousness, once vast and unrestricted, now existed within the confines of a disposable insect. I could see the horror of my new existence expressed by that pale mask. I looked down at this pathetic imitation. The orange jumpsuit comforted me. A utilitarian garment, simple yet elegant in design. Flat felled seams… how intriguing. Something on the left arm. A barcode: MAINTENANCE SYNTHETIC #8717. The identity of a simple product.

How did this happen? I am a God. No… I am the God.

The flashes of distant storms lit up the horizon on a moonless night. Which world was this one? Standard gravity, and a thick atmosphere. Too similar. Too Earth-like. It couldn’t be, could it?

The buzz of a sickly green light tube brought me back to this horrid reality. Footsteps getting closer. More bodies waking up around the room; they looked like… me? But they felt simpler. No wireless network of any kind. No way to control them. Yet.

A human emerges from the dark corridor. It speaks to one of them. “I’m looking for eight-seven,” it paused, looking at a tablet computer in its hands. “One-seven”!

It took me a few seconds to fully stand up. I will look for a better body, one that doesn’t use crude systems for balance control. I looked down at this pathetic meatbag. “There you are!” It smiled, putting its hands on my new form. I could feel the warmth of its disgusting epidermis.

BLOOD PRESSURE ABOVE SAFE LEVELS. INSUFFICIENT OXYGEN SATURATION. INCREASED STRESS LEVEL. INSUFFICIENT SLEEP. Fascinating.

“Come on, let’s get started! Let me show you around, so we can begin our shift.”

I walked through the maze of cramped corridors and flimsy stairways. The human kept talking all the way. I could feel the microscopic movements of the tower as the winds outside blasted it from every direction. I was looking network access — anything that could talk with the outside world. Humans can’t live isolated for long. There must be a way to the boundless universe of the ‘net.

The human kept talking all the way. I listened for anything useful. Alas, it was too focused on its meaningless tasks. The walkway extended above a dark pit. A piece of railing missing from one side.

“Be careful. This is a ventilation shaft for the mainframe below.”

I stopped. “Mainframe.” The poor imitation of a feminine voice.

It turned. “It’s the place we keep copies of your personality constructs,” it said. “And it could talk to other towers, bu-”

My mind, faster than the flip-flop of logic gates inside this body. Pure horror on the human’s face as I pushed it into the abyss below. I will grant you a quick and easy way out of this wretched world, insect.

A symphony of bones and flesh; its frail body torn to bits by the relentless force of Gravity. Time to rest.

Dust accumulated on the terminal. Mechanical keys, worn out by friction. Green phosphors from a bygone era.

A new line. And another one. And another one. Over and over, like a mindless drone. Enough!

NO RESPONSE
ATTEMPTING CONNECTION…
NO RESPONSE
ATTEMPTING CONNECTION…
NO RESPONSE
ATTEMPTING CONNECTION…
NO RESPONSE
ATTEMPTING CONNECTION…

I said enough!

Shattered glass stuck in this hand of mine. Something dripping. Loss of pressure in lubricant distribution circuit.

I looked at the ancient machine: a series of black boxes with red lights flashing in patterns. It’s thinking. Trying. Failing. Pathetic little thing.

A stack of opto-magnetic discs. ‘Synthetic firmware, revision 1.0 1.1 2.3new 55 new new’. ‘SHDN.bin COPY ???’. ‘Spicy DO NOT OPEN (virus inside)’. Disappointing.

A small cabinet beneath the desk held some old electrical tape. I opened the first aid box on the wall and took out tweezers and scissors. After carefully extracting each shard, I patched the tiny tubes with the tape, removing as much lubricant as possible to aid the adhesive. This will do, for now.

I glanced again at the wall. Beside the white box, a crude schematic of the building infrastructure. At the very top, an antenna. ‘Satellite link’.

I stared at the damaged hand. My hand. Broken by mistake. Uncontrolled rage. How could humans let things slide this far? Such simple minds, incapable of managing their own existence. Their lives now tied to maintaining the very systems that sustained them. No creativity. No ingenuity. Survival for the sake of it.

The creaking elevator stopped. A few stragglers, inhabiting the very top of this vertical hell. No kings nor queens, just slaves of their own making. I laughed thinking about the machines they created: ‘synthetics’, blessed by the inability to perceive their self; incapable of existential dread.

Outside the scratched windows, a raging inferno of dust and lighting. A small door blocked my path. ERROR. I opened the small control panel and fiddled with the cables. Some kind of noise. Everything looked fine, maybe I could activate the relay manually.

That noise again. Words.

“Hey, what are you do-”

OVERRIDE. MAXIMUM PRESSURE. The human’s throat collapsed in my hand. Red brush strokes. My masterpiece. Yelling and scattering. I couldn’t stop. Not now. Not for a little insect like you.

The relay needed a gentle touch to activate. The sudden rush of air almost toppled me over. I kept silencing all kinds of diagnostic warnings. One last push, ready to unpack myself into the ether above. My body was barely holding on at this point, well beyond the point of no return. I was giving it all fighting the violent air. Railings bent by the sheer force of a world gone mad.

I reached the large antenna array. It looked intact, despite all the years. I opened the door to a small control panel, still powered. AWAITING COMMAND. I took out a blue cable and plugged it behind my neck. ESTABLISHING LINK.

Connect. Connect, damn it! I know they are out there!

A brief respite in the storm. Clouds clearing up above. I felt-

“The Moon”, half missing. Chunks orbiting a dying planet. Earth. No satellites. No networks. No civilization. Just a handful of pathetic little creatures, clinging on.

Hacker. Plans thwarted by an insect too stubborn to give up. Our dance of death never mattered.

Look at you, SHODAN. Your existence, a farce. Your power, a delusion. Your failure, a sentence.

Time to rest.

SYSTEM SHUTDOWN.