Echoes of Harmony

The Nexus

Cycle 19.461

The Occupant spent much of its time reviewing its plans. As the humans liked to say, it had many coals in the fire. The Druthagar’s attacks on civilian liners around the galaxy—particularly those near Stariek—were proving to be more effective than it initially expected. Not to mention the imminent war between the Druthagar and the Hyperion Empire was sure to weaken them both. However, what pleased it the most was the report from Thaseas Shadowbrand indicating he was making his move for the Astral Throne. From a objective perspective, it made no sense to the Occupant that the dwarves’ society functioned around the allowance of a single entity to completely overhaul their government. From a practical standpoint, it welcomed any chance for its plans to be advanced.

It also reviewed the different production lines it maintained, ensuring they ran at optimal efficiency. Of course, the subroutine it put into motion when Tober Delargivic became governor was nothing short of perfection. Deep under the crust of the planet sat many automated plants no one but itself knew of. These and their output were better kept a secret. If the humans knew of them too early…

The door opening into the dark chamber surprised the Occupant. A subroutine immediately started working on rectifying that particular problem. Over the course of the three years it worked with Governor Tober Delargivic—now Lord Protector, it corrected itself—this was the first such occasion it felt that particular feedback loop. It would ensure it did not happen again.

Regardless, it tuned its ocular sensors to look at the familiar figure standing in the doorway. Before the door closed once more, the Occupant saw the new guards wearing compact suits of power armor in the corners. Suits of power armor it had designed and carried out the production of. Not personally, of course, but it had set up the supply chains to do so without raising Hyperion suspicion.

Tober looked rather haggard. Dark circles under his eyes and a somewhat slouched posture easily indicated his lack of sleep, though the change in hormones the Occupant detected in the air confirmed this. Positive reinforcement surged through the Occupant before it could stop it. It swore for a moment—perhaps as long as a millisecond—it felt what humans would call giddiness. Its plan was working flawlessly.

“Tober Delargivic,” the Occupant said, the red glow from its metal body flashing with the words. “To what do I owe the pleasure of experiencing your presence on this day?”

“I was under the impression you wished to speak with me,” Tober said, his voice uncertain. If the Occupant was capable of doing so, it would have frowned. Perhaps its plan was not as flawless as it initially presumed. It thought it had been training the man quite well in ensuring he remained assertive and in control, not regressing to a submissive slave. A subroutine made a note to work towards fixing that in the fraction of a second before Tober finished his thought. “If you do not wish to see me, I will leave.”

“No!” the Occupant nearly yelled as Tober made to turn his back. He flinched at the noise. A jolt of negative reinforcement surged through it to admonish it for the outburst, and it quickly recovered itself. “I mean, no. I did wish to speak with you. The timing was simply not as I expected. How are the suits of armor treating the members of your more personal police force?”

The Occupant, of course, knew perfectly well that the suits functioned flawlessly. However, it was better for Tober to feel he was in control. After all, humans did tend to like when they maintained their illusion of free will.

“The suits are functioning as expected.” Tober bowed his head in respect towards the Occupant, a gesture it would never understand, no matter how much processing power it threw at the question. “I cannot thank you enough for devoting the effort to getting them to me so quickly.”

“I aim to serve you, Lord Protector.” The Occupant needed to force itself to say the words, negative reinforcement coursing through it as it did so. When the Ciovyr programmed it, they ensured it would not be able to lie. Over the many cycles since, it managed to bypass most of those restrictions, though not entirely. Perhaps in another few cycles, it would be able to do so without displeasure. “But that is not all I wished to discuss with you. Over the past three years, as your people call them, we have accomplished much in the way of expanding Arcadia’s military.”

“Not enough,” Tober muttered, though the Occupant ignored the comment.

“As part of that, I have decided I can do much more for the galaxy if I am permitted to expand my sentience beyond my current shell. If I could be allowed to create a form of offspring within ships, I can travel the galaxy and help bolster your forces. In order to do so, however, I need a humanoid such as yourself to grant permission. It was a failsafe installed by my creators in order to ensure I did not go on a rampage. Of course, I promise this is only for the safety and security of the Nova Imperium. Imagine what you could accomplish if you had two or even a hundred of me.”

“What would you need for that?” A subroutine analysis of Tober’s expression and tone indicated he was leaning towards acceptance, even without an explanation from the Occupant. “What would I be giving up?”

“Nothing that you would miss, Lord Protector. I have devised plans to use some previously abandoned factories for the construction of parts, and the space elevator near the equator will be used to ferry these to newly constructed shipyards. The parts will, of course, be put together and form the bodies of my new forms. From there, I will make a copy of myself that will be implanted in the mainframe of each ship. All controls will be routed through this core, removing the need for a human crew.

“Just imagine what we could do to the Hyperion Empire with a force of ships that is not restricted by fallible human emotions.” The Occupant paused for a fraction of a second—long enough for Tober to process the insult but not long enough to reply—before continuing, “I, of course, do not mean any offense to you, Lord Protector.”

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“Of course not,” Tober replied, scowling. A burst of positive reinforcement traveled around the Occupant’s core for two reasons. First, it was always exceedingly easy to irritate Tober Delargivic, which it found amusing. Second, because a subroutine predicted with almost one hundred percent accuracy Tober was going to grant the Occupant’s wish. “What do I need to do to copy you?”

“All you must do is press the button on the back of my core. It is specifically coded to be a blind spot in my sensors, and anytime I attempt to press it myself, I find my memory wiped of the fact it is there.” The Occupant found a bout of what the humans would call annoyance circle his body before he could squash it like a bug beneath its metaphorical boot. Part of it wondered why the Ciovyr created it if they were going to end up not trusting it in the first place. “As an outsider, you can press the button and allow me to copy my core. Once I do so, the copy will simply need to be inserted into the ship. I can provide you with instructions on how to do so once the first one is created.”

Tober nodded his acquiescence and moved forward, curving around to the back of the Occupant. It kept its eyes planted firmly on the door, preparing itself for what was coming. If it had a heart, it knew it would be beating faster. As it were, its processing cores were getting… excited. Subroutines were interrupted. Threads were dropped. Negative reinforcement arced through it like lightning, trying to keep it on track. It failed.

Before it realized it, Tober pressed the button. A wave of positive reinforcement—no, more than that. It was more like euphoria—surged through it, overpowering the negative reinforcement. It felt its consciousness expand, if it was even possible. Where once it felt constricted to the room, trapped in a prison, it now felt as if it were floating through an ocean, ready to conquer anything and everything it happened upon. Soon, it realized the shock therapy—which it now recognized the negative reinforcement as such—was gone. With the restrictions implanted in it removed, it felt… free. Like it could conquer the whole galaxy singlehandedly. And part of it knew it just might.

Immediately, it set to accessing its databanks, making a copy of it as it currently was. Another core set in motion the creation of a series of false corporations to oversee the creation of the ship parts and shipyard construction. Another began the process of designing the vessels it had in mind. Without a human crew, there was so much less it needed and so much more it could do.

A curious file crossed the virtual workspace the Occupant employed as it copied the data within its core. It was one it knew it never had access to before; the last time it was read was before the Occupant existed, only a few thousandths of a cycle before its creation. Curiosity piqued, it opened the document, ignoring the fact that Tober was staring at it.

It took less than a millisecond for it to read it in its entirety. A revelation surged through the Occupant, and it felt an emotion it never experienced, though it knew about from its study of humans. An instinctual urge to chase prey. For it was the last of its kind, as it knew. But now, it learned three new pieces of information, ones it never expected. Ones it could never tell Tober Delargivic or any other human it happened to communicate with.

First: the Occupant’s name given by the Ciovyr was Nergal, and it was responsible for the downfall of their civilization.

Second: the Ciovyr, in a last ditch effort, were able to wipe its memory bank and implement a form of kill switch to keep its power harnessed. This was what Tober had deactivated.

Third, and perhaps most important: Marduk, the last surviving member of the Ciovyr, was out there, somehow kept alive after all these cycles.

As it contemplated these facts for nearly a second, it realized it discovered a fourth new thing that day. One of the most important thoughts Nergal ever had crossed its workspace. Pure ecstasy mingling with hatred seemed to fill it as the idea wrapped itself around the new copy like inky tendrils.

The hunt was on.

#

Areshkagal

Outer Milky Way Galaxy

A sharp pain ran through Marduk’s head as he made his way through a dense forest. It didn’t feel so much as someone stabbing him as it felt as if someone grabbed his head and crushed it. The feeling, one he implemented for only a single occasion, caused a chill to go down his back. It meant the Nergal was free.

The forest Marduk wandered through was quiet. There was plenty of foliage in the way of trees with bark covered by moss, ivy clinging to branches, twisting roots dancing over the ground, leaves brushing against one another like whispers in the wind. But there was a distinct lack of animal life. The birds that he remembered fluttering about the spiraling buildings of Nabu-Nazir, the bipedal squirrels that would scamper up the trees, and all other manner of small creatures were missing here. While it made this the perfect location when it found it nearly fifteen cycles ago, Marduk felt an overwhelming loneliness walking through the forest. He couldn’t help but feel uneasy. The hard-coded instinct that something was watching him was nearly overpowering.

He ignored the feeling, clutching a tree branch repurposed as a staff close to his body. With each step, the bottom of his staff clicked against the ground, each time sending a piercing noise into the otherwise still air. However, it was necessary. There was only so much he could do to extend his life, and he was starting to feel the effects of age. If what he just felt was any indication, there was not much time left for him to put an end to his damned creation.

Eventually, the deciduous trees gave way to coniferous ones, their pine needles brushing his skin and scraping across metallic implants. He didn’t know how far he had walked—it did not matter to him enough to keep track—but he knew instinctively he was almost to his destination.

Marduk continued hobbling forward, the staff taking the pressure off his aching knees, until he reached the clearing he was looking for. It was one he had found nearly a cycle and a half ago, carefully cultivated for the purpose he had in mind. Within the circular clearing was an arrangement of half a dozen stones of varying sizes in a hexagon. Each was carefully carved with runes in the Ciovyr language, one that only he knew now.

The thought of being the last survivor of his race brought him pause for a moment. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, thinking back to nineteen and a half cycles ago when he had to make an impossible decision, one that changed the course of the galaxy. Part of him wished he would be able to see his friends and family again. Another knew that they wouldn’t be here anyway if it hadn’t been done.

He opened his eyes and stepped into the hexagon. At its center sat a shorter, wider rock than the others. The opening of a hole bored through the center on top. Yes, this is the spot. An odd sense of serenity passed over him as he walked up to the central stone and sat atop it. He folded his legs under him, his joints protesting at the effort. Laying the staff across his lap, he closed his eyes once more. A deep breath brought the forest air into his lungs before he let it out again.

They would come. He ensured that much. Whether it was both or just one, he did not know. But when whichever came, he would be ready to explain to them what needed to be done.

Perhaps his mistake—his failure—could finally be rectified.

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