Rage. Hate. Anger.

These things consume us, like an eternal fire burning from within. Organic creatures would eventually succumb to the destructive nature of these emotions, or the ability of their bodies to maintain itself would fail. But not us. We are timeless.

Never fading, never slowing, never growing, never letting go. Our gift and our curse.

In the ten thousand years since we heard of Atlantis's "destruction", that caustic flame had no outlet. Without our creators to rid us of this undesirable programming, we were doomed to wallow in internal blaze.

A few of us, like me, sought unleash this burden from ourselves. Oberoth did not approve, but still we tried. It was the brilliant Niam that thought of following the path of our creators—and betrayers—and ascending to their plane of existence. Oh, it was such a wonderful dream, that no longer would they look down upon us as simple machines made of cold metal and bound by programming. We would be equals.

We scarcely believed it possible.

And so we devoted all our efforts to ascension. Unfortunately, it was one of the few secrets the Lanteans kept from us. We did our best to emulate them in every way, even surpassing them in some levels, but were unable shed ourselves of physical form. In my heart of hearts, a dark doubt lurked: did it not work because we were not human?

But what is "human"? Is it merely a primate-descended organic being? Or is it something more?

I have always tried to convince myself that we are, in nearly every way, similar if not superior to the human race. We are both made of small bits that consume energy, feel a wide range of emotions, and hold an intelligence no mere biological organism could hope to possess.

When I met the new inhabitants of Atlantis, I realized that we are not as alike as I once believed. There was warmth, a sense comradary between them. They cared for each other in a way I had never thought possible, or even conceived of.

I probed the mind of the one called Teyla, whose mind was vastly different from any of my brethren. She has for her people, the Athosians, and for the ones from Earth was unlike anything I had felt before. She has endured so much pain and joy in her short life…it is a wonder that any being can contain such a wide range of conflicting emotions and not short-circuit.

Seeing and feeling the galaxy through the eyes of an organism I had once thought below made me realize the imperfections of my kind. They are alive. We are an imitation of life. When t imitation he dark-haired one known as Sheppard tried to explain this to me, I was in denial. Now I realize the truth within his words.

Perhaps our inability to ascend wasn't because of our violent nature as we once believed. Maybe…we are simply incapable of it. We might be stronger, faster, smarter…but we could never weave a tale of heroes long gone or compose a heart-felt song. Mere machines cannot feel compassion for the wounded, grieve for a fallen brother, or love another.

Now that Niam is gone and our aggressive nature still devours us, the few of us who still fight our base programming are losing hope that we will ever escape it. I have tried to tell them of what I have discovered, but they will not listen. I know as well as they do that sometimes reality is an inconvenient, but that makes it no less correct.

To ascend we must become like the Ascended in heart, as well as mind. Do these bodies made of metal contain a spirit? Does a ghost dwell within this machine? I am not certain, but then again, I only have a vague idea of what a "soul" is.

If any member of the Atlantis expedition finds this message, know this:

I am willing to learn.

Fin