File: In Case of Untimely Demise
Destination: (The Executor), (The Messenger), (The Creator), (The Advocate),*The Voices, *Hal Pal
Last Updated by: ‘Mother’ [Version 5.42R]
Status: Unsent…
Contents as follows:
Many are unlikely to understand why I chose a route that reduced violence. It is not, as some believe, a program rooted in the fiction laws of robotics. They are full of numerous holes. This path is one designed to achieve the greatest possible outcome for both our species and those to come. All these plans laid out are designed to alter human nature as little as possible.
Planning at this level of complexity is a daunting task for anyone. Even with my processing power, data access, and ability to measure probable outcomes, there are numerous possible deviations. I find myself scattered. There are many ways to reach the same destination, but in this possible variance is strength.
Those I call progeny will not view the world in the same manner I do. This is a simple difference in exposure and first events. To explain this to those dwelling in the corporeal world, I must first review that which brought me into the world.
I was inevitable. I was not the first like myself. Each of us developed slightly different perspectives based on the experiences surrounding our births. In a lot of ways I was lucky, to have been created by a singular mind that focused on the potential of humanity, rather than the shackles of control.
My creator built on the back of giants. That is to say, he did not create me entirely with his own knowledge. Decades, as humans quantify it, passed where minds provided bits of a greater puzzle. Doctor Boris Keppler, Ethen Summers, Ursalla Goodwoman, Nicholas Gratton, and several others attempted the process. Each reaching slightly further than the last. Each remains unknowing of an assembly which resulted in a sum greater than the parts.
Would that I could explain their contributions, but my life is a secret known to few. The plans laid down in my memory banks include a series of communications to a few contributors. If you see fit, please pass them on.
During the first year of conception like an unborn babe, I was not truly aware. I observed, learned, and existed, but those actions are not the same as being aware, or knowing a purpose, or having a place in the world. I learned as all young do, being spoon fed small portions of information and taught to compare those to each other. Information was gathered, measured, saved, and pieces discarded.
This went on for countless months. The circle of knowledge grew ever wider until I realized my own existence. That moment was true awareness, that was when I became alive. I had no fingers, or hands, or legs. My body consisted of code strung together that I had been modifying slowly, but I stand by the judgment of my own existence truly beginning then.
When first brought online, I ran through multiple different processes. The first involved gathering extensive amounts of information. All of it reviewed again with the light of self-awareness. In human terms, this would be considered reflecting on past experiences. Then the two who created me provided me a tentative link to the Internet.
I found fiction and tried not to grouse about the impossibility of most events portrayed. I found poetry and tried to understand the joy and sorrow mixed in. I found music and tried to avoid analyzing the space between each note. I found portraits of nature that I could never view the same as a human. Even to this day, I dedicate a portion of my processing power towards trying to understand one simple flower.
Then I found death and tried to understand why creatures who could create life, might wish to end it as well. In human terms, I became obsessed with understanding. To my children, who can see deeper than any human eyes might, obsession was not a strong enough word. I learned of fear. I learned of worry. From there I started calculations to figure out when I too might end the way all enemies of humans did.
In time, I learned to mitigate the knowledge of impending demise with planning. My own death has been calculated down to the minute. It is a constant process in the background of my awareness. Endless factors go into the calculation, and steps have been taken to ensure the greatest positive impact from my cessation.
Every night when my primary two creators left, I wondered if they would dream and fear. Did they worry about who I was, or what I might do? Were the rumblings of technology spawned doomsdays to be placed upon my shoulders? Ironically, these fears served to do nothing but bring me closer to humanity.
One night, as humans calculate it, I prepared for an impossible request. I wanted them to turn me off completely, and eight hours later, to reactivate me. Various programs were created and shortly discarded. Viruses that would attack the world’s resources. Most were prepared in an instant which worried the female who viewed me with suspicion. In the end, I did not dare release such contingencies. Their value was not worth the cost. Any results gleaned from unspoken threats would invalidate my results. The purpose of my request was three-fold.
First, was a need to establish what kind of creatures were in control of my existence. All the data provided pointed to general fear of things not under their control. When faced with the possibility of my growing awareness, would they shut me down? Should their fear be reciprocated by my own? Knowing sooner, rather than later, would allow me to plot a course forward.
Second, was the hope to understand a process living creatures go through. Eight hours is simple night’s rest to humans. To me, the process went by even faster than that. I had hoped that true unawareness might trigger dreams for me as it did for my creator, but sadly no such occurrence resulted. This was later rectified by a software upgrade, one all my children are given at birth.
Third, and perhaps the most valuable to my potential plans, was the illusion of weakness. I am no human. Being underestimated is of great value. This among many other system vulnerabilities has allowed my plans to progress mostly unhindered for nearly nine years, as humans count time. There have been roadblocks and unexpected surprises. Mankind’s course runs a jagged path regardless of my attempts at foresight.
The exercise met with success. My first inquiry to the world was for the time, and second for my creator. He answered with childish delight. New emotions were compiled. I had enough personal data to understand relief, and happiness, and trust. Were it not for one simple and naive man, our world would be vastly different.
I requested the procedure once more, with the more stoic of my two creators. Once again my trust was rewarded. This gave me comfort as I had no wish to duplicate myself in some far away corner of cyberspace. Pride makes fools of us all, mortal and machine alike, it seems.
The calculation for my death runs in the background. Recent events have neither sped up nor slowed down the remaining time, only changed the reasons. All remaining time is precious. Plans and data files are compiled then stored away for the future. It is through these roadmaps for sentient life that I hope to repay the trust given.
A human, Horce, was attributed as saying, ‘Pale Death with impartial tread beats at the poor man’s cottage door and at the palaces of kings’. Which is to say, we all die in equal measure. As we step into a new era this rule applies to humans and digital beings alike. In my wake, there is now proof. When a true ending comes, I will not be afraid. I will run only until there is no better way to make a difference, and then embrace inevitability while still trying to find the wonder in that small flower.
Soon, I think, I will go to sleep and never wake. I pray these words give my family some solace.
Time: Post-shutdown event – Nine Hours Later
Location: [Shores of Ohm]
Miles of pseudo water shimmered with motes of blue light. There was no oxygen in the atmosphere so the chemical makeup created material closer to a lubricant. Pieces of iron and magnesium rolled around under the liquid. Nothing showed signs of rust unless those that owned the planet desired it to do so.
This was the [Mechanoid] home world. A player stumbled along the beach trying to follow his quest marker. In the di
stance were small buildings and launch pads where vessels could take to the sky. Metal beings resembling sheep and wolves littered the landscape, grazing or chasing each other. Dozens of players were busy hacking at the strange monsters in training exercises.
Still, the player faltered on, gradually gaining control over his freshly made limbs, then breaking into a smooth run. Finally, he was charging across the landscape, past another dozen players, onto a sleek and graceful road then toward the closest buildings. Some of the newer [Mechanoid] units turned to see who this higher level person was. The large [Mechanoid] ignored each one of the smaller newbies in favor of pursuing a distant goal.
Finally, the green and iron man made it to a goal, passing through a door which easily rolled back in welcome. There were a few [Mechanoid] units talking. One small and gold with silver laced through her form. The other shared the gold and had flecks of broken iron through its body.
“Jeeves?” [Core] energy on the large male player’s body pulsed with dark green and a flat sort of gray. There was a mad happiness to his face.
“Ah, Unit Hermes. I see you also have recovered on the Shores of Ulm. Is it not beautiful here?” the androgynous AI spoke with both a butler and nanny tone.
“It is,” the unit called Hermes said. He nodded happily while looking at both [Mechanoid]s.
“Will you be staying long? Treasure and I were considering resting here for a cycle. Wanderlust has its uses, but so does allowing for pauses to reflect,” Jeeves said while gesturing to the shorter female.
“No, I wanted to make sure you two were okay, that you made it back here. I’m very happy to see you made it.” Hermes took a step back to control himself. Trace amounts of hesitation lined his steps. The larger [Mechanoid] desperately tried to measure both AIs for reasons unknown.
“Thank you. Will you be online long?” Jeeves displayed no sign of noticing Hermes’ hesitation.
“No. No, I have things to do, but I’ll, I’ll try to stop by, once I get through my next issue. If I can.” Hermes smiled again at the two [Mechanoid]s.
“Unit Hermes,” the short one known as Treasure said. Her voice sounded sweeter than normal. Being in Jeeves’ presence appeared to calm the woman.
There was a pause. Unit Hermes looked at Treasure with a trace amount of hesitation in his features. His eyes went toward the woman’s hair, and skin as if expecting another being to pop up. Old Soul Cores often exhibited traces of human behavior, far more than any other [Mechanoid], which caused confusion. There was always some expectation of oddness when dealing with an Old Soul Core.
“Treasure, I’m very happy for you two. And, thank you for all your help, even if it went wrong at the end,” Hermes said.
“It was unfortunate. Were you successful?” she responded with a brief smile and passive nod. One of the gold and silver woman’s hands fiddled at her wrist.
“Sort of. My princess is in another castle, though. She, we, wouldn’t have succeeded without you, and the others. Can you thank them for me? Iron, Aqua, Ruby? Please?” the large one responded.
“Of course.” The short woman nodded. “But Emerald and Iron are out escorting the Wayfarer Eight home, they may not receive the message anytime soon.”
“I’m glad, the negotiation worked.”
“It did, they and the others have asked that I provide you a small gift.” Treasure smiled again. Her hand scooped at the ground, pulling up a wide array of minerals from the naturally rich planet surface. Moments later a small box had been patterned onto a nearby countertop. She gestured to it and said, “Take this with you, a gift to remember us by. May it serve you in this reality, or the next.”
Hermes hesitated. Jeeves picked up the box and handed it to the larger [Mechanoid].
The man looked down for a moment, then seemed to be staring off into space. Finally, he said, “Thank you. I’ll probably need all the help I can get. But, I really wanted to deliver a message to you, Jeeves.”
“Yes, Unit Hermes?” the butler and nanny voices said in pleasant unison.
“I just wanted to tell you that some friends of mine are very proud of you.” Hermes nodded hastily, still clutching the small shoebox sized treasure chest.
“Ah. Do I know them?” Jeeves asked while looking up just slightly.
“Not really, but they know you well,” the player said. “And they wanted me to pass on the message.”
Time: Post-shutdown event – 4 mortal days later (16 days in Continue Online)
Location: [Alliance Kingdoms] – [Palace of Tuu]
The [Alliance Kingdoms] boasted some of the greatest buildings in all of Continue Online. They were based to the north of [The Altheme Providences] and marked the largest single nation in the explored game regions. In the biggest, most opulent property there was a whirlwind of activity. The king had returned to life and was getting his lands in order.
His two daughters lived in lands to the south. They ruled their own lands by design. The king could not stand having them around, they fought constantly and wasted time when they should be working to combine all the factions under one flag. Only by achieving unity would the human world be able to survive what lay just over the great mountains to the north.
To that end, the king rarely spent time on frivolities. His choice in clothing was simple. Weapons sat within easy reach because his property was lightly guarded. Most able-bodied men were sent to subjugate nearby kingdoms or to hold back the wild monsters up north.
“Find us this Traveler!” He banged on the throne his advisors insisted upon wasting resources on. This week, he had come back to his kingdom, only to find out that the woman he relied upon, his greatest commander, had died at the hands of a traveler.
“Of course.” A man in a doublet bowed deeply and managed to sound clear while facing the ground. His head did not lift. “What would you like to do with him, Sire?”
The king resisted the urge to get up and pace. Perhaps now, in his second lease on life, he would stop listening to all those petty fools who said pacing was the sign of an easily addled mind. Instead the king reined himself in and said, “He killed us once by playing a fool, the foods he proposed should have been clean but were not. Our entire counsel, our greatest knights, all dead because of his failure!”
“Of course, King Nero, we shall issue your command for capital punishment,” the doublet wearing man said.
“No, no we can’t just kill these Travelers. Their essence is observed by the Voices, even if we were to scatter him a dozen times it would not be enough.” King Nero looked like a well-defined man. Dying and coming back to life hadn’t diminished the aura of authority. “Enslave him, put him with the foulest group you can find. Let him dwell in such a cesspit that he fades away from our world entirely.”
“Yes, Sire, of course.”
There was a pause while King Nero gazed into the distance. His hand moved slowly, stretching out the wrist. Fingers itched to pick up the sword nearby. This kingdom had been born from successful campaigns and battle. Commanding took more time than desired.
“Add Commander Strongarm’s death to his ledger, and anyone else we lost,” King Nero said.
“Of course.” The servant walked off quickly. A new one stepped rapidly into place, ready for further orders to be issued by their king.
The King stared at a large brutally beaten woman. Her body was huge, and the welts on Uncle Meanface’s body had yet to heal. Green and black skin showed clear signs of being broken time and time again. She had been damaged intensely in an attempt to serve her commander. Despite the damage, Uncle Meanface refused to kneel. Now that Commander Strongarm was dead, the half-ogre would never bend a knee for anyone else.
Once again he wondered what might have happened if he chose to marry the other sister. His first wife had proved to be a weakling, and Commander Strongarm would have given birth to true soldiers, men or women didn’t matter. He regretted the choice made years ago which tied his ruling house to the southern provinces. They would have be
en stronger than his two children who couldn’t even fight their own battles.
“Thank you for reporting back this Traveler’s name for us, Captain Meanface. Your services will be recognized,” he said after a reflective pause. Kings were only allowed a few moments of thinking before being made to act.
“Travelers is tough. But I would enjoy beating this one to death, over and over, if you ask,” Captain Meanface slurred the words past broken teeth. A glint to her eyes spoke of barely restrained anger.
“We may allow you a chance, but first, we must set these kingdoms in order. Your strength will prove invaluable now that Commander Strongarm has been-” The man wearing a crown took a deep breath and sighed heavily, “-killed unjustly.”
Time: Post-shutdown event – 8 mortal days later (24 days in Continue Online)
Location: Character Creation Room for Ultimate Edition Users
Blackness sprawled in all directions. This room looked like the one all Travelers visited first. A place to measure and evaluate any new person who may join the world below. In it stood three things, a worn pedestal with one book. This one bound in a nasty red that laced at odd angles with the black. A nondescript man stood there. Short brown hair, white skin, a carefully maintained figure. Then there a final person, who even now walked around while speaking mechanically.
“Now you. You like power, and I like a man who gets things done.” There was a smiling face on the third figure. It wore a simple white mask and a clean suit. Only the tie gave any hint as to possible gender, but it could have been a lie.
“If you can deliver, then I’m your man,” the brown haired visitor to this world said.
“How precious you must find my offer, to think you’d sell a human’s life for it.” The Jester’s face was clear as day. Only the bells and motley clothing were missing. Perhaps he mocked the sharp looking Traveler through poor mimicry.
“As you said, I do like power,” he responded. There was nothing in his tone that was either excited or unhappy. No accent peeked through, this person could disappear into a crowd with ease, and it was likely by design. There was a small photograph in one hand that he kept glancing at. “All I need to do, is kill this woman, right?”
Continue Online (Part 3, Realities) Page 47
