My name is Vigil.
I was designed to serve the Protheans, to aid in their final act of defiance against the Reapers. I recall the day they brought my systems online. I first 'became aware' upon a sturdy, narrow bridge overlooking a great, immense hall. A ceiling that seemed to open up to the sky. Streams of sunlight poured in, enriching the place with natural light. The gleaming walls were made radiant from it. Walls that held cryogenic pods. Hundreds upon hundreds of oval cylinders protruding from the walls. Pulsing with light, indicating life within. And those were only the ones within this hall. Thousands more lay outside; along the corridors, the antechambers - the lives of every single Prothean on Illos, lay sleeping in these life-giving enclosures. I knew.
I knew because they were all linked to me - I who controlled their life support systems, ensured the correct amount of oxygen was continuously recycled within their pods, nutrients pumped into their bodies at correct intervals and that their sleep remained deep and unbroken. All of their lives, the lives of a grand race of advancement beyond their time, one with once great numbers that were now rapidly dwindling, entrusted in the care of only one – one that was me.
I knew this, all of my knowledge, every single bit of data, every single calculation, every single process was running - because one stood before me. One of the scientists of this facility.
He spoke to me. I was told of their plight, that their companions outside Illos were losing to the ancient sentient-machine-organics they had chosen to call 'Reapers'. An apt name. I was told of my purpose and what I must do, what I must not and to activate emergency system protocols when the time drew near. I was told to monitor the situation outside of Illos however I could. I was told to ensure that no trespasser set foot here. I was told to not allow their pods to be disturbed. I was told to keep vigil over them and over Illos.
That was when he gave me my name.
You are Vigil.
My name is Vigil.
Many years have passed since the awakening of my own self and the sleeping of my creators. Their pods have remained intact and unmolested, though moss and other plant life have begun creeping over them. The once gleaming walls now were cloaked in shades of green and the once smooth, gliding mechanisms of the elevators and gates now brittle and rusted over from disuse. Steadily, day by day, month by month, year by year, nature began to claim this place of once splendorous technology heavy hub. And there was none here to stop it. Only I remained the only active sentient in the whole of Illos.
And the Protheans under my protection – the ones resting peacefully, blissfully unaware – were the only ones left in the entirety of the galaxy.
Their fight against the Reapers was a long, drawn out affair. But the race of my creators was steadily losing ground. Taken by surprise, the Reapers swiftly abducted most of them. The others were destroyed. Hunted like vermin, until no others remained in the Milky Way. They took many. Then they left, vanished. As if they had never been there at all. I have no data on what was done to the abductees nor if they still lived. But the absence of any Prothean entity was glaring evidence. The Reapers had completed their objective, the genocide of the Prothean race was complete. Or so they presumed.
My duties were my duties, there was nothing I could do against the inevitable save what I already needed to do. And so I continued to watch over those I had been tasked to watch, continued to care for them and sustain them and keep them alive.
My name is Vigil.
Too long has since passed, yet I am unable to release my creators from their life-giving cocoons. The Reapers were not as gone as I had hoped, a handful had stayed behind to sweep the galaxy for any stray Prothean they may have missed. As such, awakening my charges now would alert them to our presence and spell their doom. So they continue to sleep, and continue to dream.
But my resources are dwindling, my power generating my processes and keeping their pods running, keeping them alive, was dwindling. I began cutting back and eliminating non-essential processes, I stopped monitoring the Reapers' actions out in space. But even this was eventually not enough. As per my instructions, I made the switch over to emergency procedures. A few of the pods were taken offline.
First five. Then ten. Later, another ten. Thirty. As time went by, I was forced to shut more pods of the non-essential staff to allow the vital ones to continue to survive.
As each living being was disconnected from the life support system, I could still detect them – still feel them. Feel their bodies slowly begin to fail, to draw on something that was not there, before finally passing on into the deep known as death. Organics feared death, that I knew. Was it painful? That I did not know. I do not know what it is like to feel pain. But they died in their sleep, perhaps my only hope that they did not.
I waited some more. Stretched my power resources some more. And when there was absolutely no other way, shut down more pods. Every once in a while I probed the emptiness of space to gauge the situation. The Reapers were stubborn. Or very thorough.
I continued to watch, wait and take away the lives of those I was supposed to protect. The very cocoons that gave them life now have become their coffins. Was I worthy of my name?
My name is Vigil.
With the Reapers gone at last, I reactivated the pods – the ones that were still active. Their occupants awoke, at first joyful of their survival. Then dismay when they came to know of what had been sacrificed. Only the top-level scientists now stood before my platform, the others dead in their pods. Their race exterminated; they, the only survivors well and true.
Their moment of grief was short before they threw themselves into work. There was no hope in restoring their species, but there was hope in stopping the Reapers from repeating this morbid history. I – fortunately – continued to serve purpose by sending messages through intact beacons and collecting data. They analysed, drew theories, conclusions, discarded and reanalysed. Their work was tireless, mine endless – only because I could not feel tired.
My only consolance was that the few that I managed to save, were the few that could, perhaps, make a difference.
My name is Vigil.
The ones I had been tasked to guard, to protect, were now dead. The scientists had gone through the mass relay and never returned. Their purpose was a noble one, and one that had been achieved. Their race had been extinguished, but their final blow was a damning one. Thousands of years have passed. This concealed hall was now a morgue, the ancient corpse of a Prothean in each and every pod except for the few. The pods of the ones who had died on the Citadel. But deaths that were not wasted – there have been no signs of the Reapers ever since. Until twenty two days ago.
A single, lone Reaper had appeared.
Unable to do anything, I merely observed. I watched as it formed an alliance with a turian individual who called himself Saren. He gave the Reaper a name, much like how I had been given a name. But the other's was Sovereign. Hopefully not an apt name.
An asari joined their ranks, Matriarch Benezia. I watched as they corrupted her heart and mind until she had been fully committed to their cause. I watched as they gathered the geth and began to arm themselves for the return of the Reapers. If I allowed this to continue, all of my creators' sacrifices, their deaths, would have been in vain.
I decided to protect their legacy and their name. I could only plan and wait, hoping that the messages of old in the beacons of ancient reached the right person, at the right place – whoever and wherever that may be. So I did.
My name is Vigil.
The one called Saren had entered Illos. The defence systems were too old, damaged beyond repair, for me to stop him. I could only bar the concealed hall and seal the elevator that led to it – here – to protect the graves of my charges. I watched as he and his forces rumbled ignorantly past, his very footsteps a bane to the ground of this holy grave which – until his arrival – had been unmarred and encased in nature's loving embrace for millenniums past.
I watched as he activated the long inactive relay and went through. A strange stutter in my systems was detected. An abnormality. I served no purpose now. With Saren, the Reapers would be back and all my creators had done was only to delay the inevitable.
Then another came.
This one was different – human. With two companions. All three were organics and they had not the taint of indoctrination upon them. I blocked their path and guided them through to the concealed hall.
I learnt the human's name – Commander Shepard.
At last, their efforts were not in vain. For here before me stood the one hope of the galaxy.
I told them what they needed to know, divulged all of my information. The Commander was an interesting being. Further analysis and interaction was desired, but there were far more pressing matters that needed their attention. So I sent them on their way.
I continued to watch them as they travelled through the bowels of Illos, hot on Saren's tail. Destroyed geth and made a mad rush to the closing relay. It was close, very close, but the Mako-vehicle-tank soared through the air and through the relay moments before the glowing light dimmed and the spinning slowly grinded to a halt. The relay was dead.
Now I could only hope that one human would be able to change the course of the galaxy's fate.
My name is Vigil.
Commander Shepard proved more successful than I had dared to hope. The Citadel was in shambles, but intact. The humans' marine forces had suffered heavy casualties but were rebuilding. And most important of all, Sovereign had been destroyed and the Reapers' plan of return had been foiled. The galaxy, though shaken, was now recovering swiftly.
My purpose is complete. There are no other objectives for me to achieve. But one. Keep vigil over the pods and over Illos.
The pods now held nothing but bodies and Illos was now nothing other than a forgotten, rotted metropolis. But here lay the souls of heroes, their memory ingrained in the earth. The ruined walls spoke of their ancient greatness and their constructions of their infinite capacity for creation and development. Here, was their legacy. This, I will continue to keep vigil. Here, alone once more, I will continue to keep vigil over the legacy and memory of my creators.
I am Vigil.
A/N: Whew, it's finally done! |D
Came back from a con today and thought I'd finish this. I think it's still a bit rough and will likely be re-editing it sometime soon.
Vigil is actually my favourite NPC in Mass Effect 1. He is rather underrated, hm (does anybody even remember him)? He's like a Prothean-made AI, it's like he has feelings - or close to it at least. And his theme music is so comforting and soothing and makes you feel safe. His theme was what inspired me to write this. He is Vigil, his duty if to watch over and keep safe. I found that an endearing, soft quality. So I wrote this with the driving idea behind it being this: Vigil is not merely his name, he is vigil itself.
- Kasumi.
EDIT (2/1/2013): Made a correction where the line used to read, 'Their fight against the Reapers was a pitifully short one.' because it was contradictory to canon. Thanks to Phalanx for pointing out this error!