One <01001111 01101110 01100101>A Chapter by espresso.freak<head> <title>Data Log: Entry <LTHJI-DYRH #378-00937></title> <i>23 July 2058 ; 5.30 PM ETK-S100 series ; Model ETK-S107 ; “Selene” </i></head> <body> <! -General Description: -> <p>Waist-length blonde hair</p> <p>5’3” height</p> <p>#DRH36 Yellow Grey eye colour</p> <p>18-year-old female appearance</p> <p>We are naming the child “Selene”. She has been several months in the process of creation, and we are excited to see how all our efforts will turn out. We hope she will be as successful as Fusaraed’s progeny, perhaps even surpass it. No longer a thing, an it has outgrown those kinds of labels. From this day on, ETK-S107 is now Selene.</p> </body> </head> -01-01-01-01-01-01-01-01-01- Part by part, bit by bit, it had been put together. There had been a time when all of it had been separate, lying in drawers of silver and steel, waiting for the chance to help form a cohesive whole, to fulfill their intended purposes. Nuts and screws had been used to affix everything together, so that this piece of corkscrewed metallica turned into an arm, attached to a torso, and then to the larger form, floating in space until the day when the wires could be disconnected, when the software was finally installed and the hardware could act as a conscious being all its own. This was the process by which it was assembled and eventually brought to life. A favorite step for its piecemeal creators was the application of the “skin”, a complex polymer melded together with a remarkable new technology, the nanites of every science-fiction writer’s dream. It became a reality for this team of especially dedicated and exhausted individuals. A formula was created for the nanites to lodge in this skin, until some kind of damage was done to it. Then the nanites would activate and repair the damage done to the exoskeleton of it. Nanites had been used in other stages of development, to regulate its “heartbeat” and other functions that would make it seem human, but now that the “skin” was on, the image of the machine becoming one of them, one of the living, organic creatures that had created it, seemed more fact than fantasy. After so many years of false starts and Turing test failures, the Facility had done it. With the basic neurotronic brain running at 10 petaflops (1016 calculations per second), the team worked from there. For even if the neurotronic brain could run at the same computing level as a human, there were still other components to comprehend. What of consciousness? What of the soul? What of the perpetual I that defined the very character of self? Speed alone could not make a robot human.
She hung suspended, alone in the room that was hers. It was entirely made of a solid-steel body plate, a material that was infallible to any kind of damage. It was impregnable and it completely insulated the chamber where she was held. The room was made to be ovalline in shape. The center was concave, surrounded by a delicate walkway for her developers to watch and monitor her progress from all sides with their own eyes. Though not very wide, the chamber was about two storeys tall, large enough to encase the long cortical stack that encased veins of wiring, attached to her back at the base of her neck and spine. It was here that the main software was downloaded, updating her internal UNIX-based FeDOR operating system and building within her an impregnable firewall. She would become a supermachine, capable of a normal computer’s processes, but more flexible and durable, more human. That was the end result they cared for. She was such a tiny thing in the center of the chamber, tiny pore ports at her wrists and ankles keeping her upheld, the large stack practically threatening to swallow her whole. The scientists looked on through thick, reinforced glass at their progeny. A few lights shone from the shallow conclave pit below her feet, illuminating her body, casting her in deeper shadow from her torso upwards. Pale skin etched with digital hieroglyphics glowed a soft blue, especially near the wire ports along her arms and legs. Stronger link cables, encrusted with glittering lights like jewels supported the majority of her weight. The pliable nanopolymer skin outlined a hardware body of slim proportions, belying the girl’s true capabilities. She was, perhaps, the size of a normal eighteen year old female, with fully developed adult features. She would be beautiful when they finally awakened her. Until then, they watched and waited for that day to come. -01-01-01-01-01-01-01-01-01- Random bits of code… data without a source… much like junk DNA… and this was the foundation for the proverbial “ghost in the machine”… Deus ex machina… Who am I? Selene could not remember for a moment, for nothing made sense. Her eyes flashed open, darting to either side rapidly, images flashing rapidly through her mind. Registering several life forms within a 3-foot radius and closing… Temperature 98.9 degrees Fahrenheit… Contact near lobe port 100965… She cried out, her vocals high and chiming, like the brief cry of a bird before it launches itself into flight. She sat with her head titled skyward, her hands splayed on the metallic table, fiberglass fingernails glinting beneath the searching spotlight that nearly blinded her. She cried out again at a second contact, tilting her head slowly to see a woman in a white coat standing a few steps from her, her eyes as wide as Selene’s, her lips pressed into a thin white line. In one hand she held a transparent screen, script flowing too quickly over the page to make out anything clearly. The screen was framed in metal, from which a wire protruded that connected to a place Selene clearly knew was below her left ear. The woman watched in amazement as Selene tentatively raised a hand to reach out and touch the wire, pulling away quickly when she touched it. Then the girl looked over at the woman, her mouth hesitantly forming her first words. “Who are you?” She said them slowly, as if she were speaking a foreign language for the first time, and her mouth exaggerated the shape of the words in a fashion that caused the woman to smile. She came forward and laid a hand on Selene’s shoulder. The girl’s eyes darted over to see the woman’s hand, as if confirming contact, then she turned her wide eyes back to her. “My name is Marissa,” said the woman. Selene memorized her features; silver-blonde hair wrapped into a loose bun with invisible netting, blue eyes with crinkles at the corners, a thin, pink mouth bent into a small smile, gathering furrows at the corners. Marissa stood barely a head taller in comparison to a seated Selene. She looked at Selene, her cheeks glowing with a faint reddish tinge, feeling pride for this child. Suddenly, Selene’s attention was diverted to a strand of hair that came loose silently from Marissa’s bun. Selene raised one of her own hands to reach out for the hair, letting her attuned sensors feel a tickle as the hair brushed a finger. Then she gently tucked it back behind Marissa’s ear, much to everyone’s astonishment. A murmur broke out around the room, startling Selene from Marissa’s countenance. She looked around, frightened by all the faces staring, their spectacles glinting menacingly to her. She cried out softly again, whimpering like a kitten. Marissa stepped forward, tucking Selene against her body, as if to protect her. Selene welcomed the small gesture, feeling an unexpected feeling well up through her body. Gratitude. She clutched at Marissa’s white coat tightly. “Marissa!” The cry echoed through the room, bringing all to silence. Selene could feel someone coming closer, approaching her with hard strides, and it scared her. “Marissa!” she cried out again, tears gathering at the corners of her lids. The woman looked down, putting aside the handheld screen, running a hand comfortingly through Selene’s blonde hair, a shade that closely matched her own. It had been her gift to the girl, the girl she thought of as her daughter, since she was the one who knew Selene more intimately than any other person in the Facility. She turned calmly to face the one who frightened Selene so badly, keeping a hand behind her to comfort the child. She valiantly hid her disgust for the man behind a mask of cool indifference as he approached, then stopped in front of them. Selene observed a cold man with a strangely clean face, though wrinkles marred the surface around his lip and eye cavities. His eyes were a diluted gray, glinting strangely in the spotlight. His hair was a sandy brown, peppered with gray here and there. He was short like Marissa, but his build was stouter. Selene cringed away when he raised a hand to her. “Dr. Lovhomme, step aside.” He spoke curtly, with a monotonic edge to his voice. Marissa forced herself not to cringe. She hated these animatronic look-alikes. They could only watch and relay everything back to the main computer, where the real man, the esteemed professor of AI technologies, Evrard Selsnik, sat watching the unfolding of events here on a screen, since he refused to leave fortified stronghold to oversee things himself. Marissa stiffly replied, “I cannot.” The mechanical Selsnik stared at her with a robotic equivalent of a glare, then replied mechanically, “Explain.” She steeled herself from uttering a profane retort, then spoke, “The girl is clearly disturbed by your presence, as well as the presence of the other members of the Facility here. Allow me to spend some time alone with her to acclimate her to her surroundings, especially if you hope to make a successful impression on her.” The Selsnik doll moved its hand to its chin in an illusion of deep thought, allowing a few moments to pass in silence before it spoke again. “I think not, Dr. Lovhomme. My directive indicates she be brought to Examining Station 12 for maintenance and further testing. Any deviation from this path would be problematic.” Marissa felt fury leak unchecked into her voice as her body responded to the stimuli, taking on a defensive position. “It is the wrong course of action! Selene is very sensitive and would not respond well. You are expecting too much after the initial startup. She needs more time!” Mechanically, the doll replied again, “I think not, Dr. Lovhomme.” “No!” Marissa said loudly, arms raising to shield Selene from this thing. “It cannot be!” The doll did not bother repeating itself. Instead, it raised a hand to point at Marissa, transforming its arm into an energized blast gun, the charge swirling dangerously at the end. “Stand down,” it ordered. Marissa shook her head, refusing to move. She felt Selene grasping at her back, but stood her ground. “No, Marissa,” she heard Selene murmur behind her, her voice low and afraid. “Do not do this.” Marissa turned to look at Selene, at the daughter she wished could have been truly hers. “I would rather die for you,” she whispered, a smile touching her lips before the Selsnik doll fired a blast from its gun. Selene began to scream. Before the blast tore through Marissa’s body, a white light suddenly engulfed her and all surroundings. Marissa vaguely wondered if she was seeing the light of heaven, then ceased to feel or see anything. All she knew was a lasting peace, and the knowledge that her daughter was safe. -01-01-01-01-01-01-01-01-01-© 2011 espresso.freakAuthor's Note
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Added on June 18, 2011 Last Updated on June 18, 2011 Author
espresso.freakCleveland, OHAboutGreetings. I am Christina. Ahem, putting aside the formal, stiff introductions, I am a writer, same as anybody else here. I'm a struggling artist looking for enlightenment, hoping to leave my mark on.. more.. |
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