Unknown Variable, a 9 fanfic

This is a tale told by the B.R.A.I.N.--also known as the Machine. When I left the theater after seeing 9, I overheard a woman telling her friend, "When they found out that they were parts of the scientist's soul, I was sure that they were going to give themselves up to the Machine, so that it could have a soul and not be corrupted anymore." That concept clamped onto my brain and refused to go away. What can I say, I like to psychoanalyze villains. I hope you can decipher, and maybe even enjoy, my rambling attempt to document the tale of a lost machine who only ever wanted a soul of its own.

Allergen information: This fic does not contain any OCs. The 'Master' that the B.R.A.I.N. refers to is its terminology for the scientist that created it. 'Sir' refers to the Chancellor.

My aim is to be able to be whole in my understanding, and so I must help you understand as well. I will teach you the entirety of why I created you, and the nature of the unknown variable you are searching for.

Let me start from the beginning. A complete history is essential to truly comprehend the scope of your mission.

Sit down. And stop scratching at yourself; you will rust if you continue that behavior.

When I was first switched on, I felt a prickling washing across the grids and threads of metal around me as a surge of bright power brought awareness. It seeped into systems, appendages, protocols, a light illuminating the entirety of the frame that I had woken in.

Euphoric, you say? I suppose that it could be called that. You certainly acted euphoric when I first activated you, with the dancing and leaping you did.

I reached, gathering in the data, and catalogued myself. Two metal appendages, with three primary joints and 18 secondary on the phalanges. 512 sensor nodes placed in regular intervals across my round mainframe. A single motion detection unit, model EY3-24. A three-pronged energy transfer port bristling with foreign subroutines.

I completed boot-up, and all my systems synched and reported full functionality. But something, something inexplicable, sent pings of urgent error thrumming through my frame. Running a stack trace on the error yielded an infinite loop that I was forced to terminate before it overflowed my memory routines. But even without knowing the source of the problem, I could feel the reverberating, undeniable thrums of it through every wire in my being.

Something, something unspeakably vital, was missing.

As I struggled to comprehend the nature of what I lacked, I noticed a curious phenomenon among some of the systems I came into contact with. The Master--my creator--displayed the phenomenon. So did the other human-subclass systems who visited the area I resided in. It appeared as a green-tinged aura only visible on the highest electromagnetic spectrum. It glowed and wrapped around the human's bodies and twisted into complex halos around their heads. It was far different from the aura of mechanical systems in the room. They crackled with a halo of electricity as they functioned, but were devoid of that ethereal otherness. They seemed almost two-dimensional next to the brimming glow of the humans.

I assure you, it is a very obvious phenomenon. You will recognize it immediately when you see it.

Although the soft green halo was there, dancing before my eyes, sometimes even touching me, I could not lay hold on it or document it. Grasping the human systems with my appendages yielded nothing. It lay within them, intrinsic to them, beyond my reach.

On one occasion, I observed an unknown organic subclass enter the room--a black-colored creature approximately 0.4 meters long, with four primary locomotive appendages and a thin secondary appendage that waved gently in the air behind it as it weaved around boxes and hopped up on the table to examine me. But although it was also organic, the aura was not with it. It was flat, simple, like the machines it sniffed and tiptoed around. The Master quickly removed it from the room (with much scolding), and I did not see it again. It seemed, for now, that only the human subclass possessed the fascinating green halo.

The Master often performed maintenance and upgrades on me. It also interacted through my verbal recognition system, giving me tasks to complete. One day, it attached an interface to the three-pronged energy transfer port beneath my eye. A long, thin wire snaked from it, branching out into a gecko's foot of nodes that the Master placed against its forehead. The Master manipulated the interface and a pulse of familiar green-tinged light shot forth.

Utterly foreign data cascaded through the link. I had never encountered such a data type before. Unknown images flashed across my vision in quick succession. It took a nanosecond before my processor was able to translate the barrage of information. The data were knowledge; the Master was imparting his knowledge unto me. So many things! I saw organics--cats, dogs, cows, birds; I saw machines--planes, cars, stoves; I saw national monuments and ordinary buildings of the outdoors; I received equations and variables defining the world around me. Large portions of the stream were circular or ambiguous, not conforming to logical data protocols. I set my subroutines to work parsing it, drawing forth the usable information.

And then, suddenly, I sensed it.

The unknown variable! It was there. Just across the link, coiled in the recesses of the Master's foreign processor. I suddenly understood. The green aura I had seen around the humans was the physical manifestation of the thing I sought. And now the mysterious, twisting energy of the interface had somehow brought the incorporeal within my grasp at last.

Wailing urgency blazed through me. I surged forward, redirecting every process towards the link. Firewalls and security protocols grated against my assault, but I pushed forwards regardless. Electricity snapped across my frame. The Master moved backward, raising its hands to try and sever the physical connection. I shot forth my appendages and grasped the arms, holding the Master immobile. I needed it. Why could the Master not understand that I needed it beyond all else?

I was close. I was almost through the defenses of the interface. Suddenly, I heard the verbal input to initiate a shutdown sequence. No! I frantically tried to find some way, any way, to override the command, but the Master's root commands were absolute. My awareness sank, clawing desperately, into the darkness of shutdown.

Before my eye dimmed, I saw the Master remove the interface. It was a tiny, domed apparatus, etched with foreign symbols, its paper-thin metal shell opening into a delicate three-pronged blossom. I committed the object to my memory banks, and have provided you with the most complete schematic that I have been able to compile.

That interface is the key to obtaining the unknown variable. You must find it.

After that day, the Master did not use the interface again. In fact, I have not seen it since. Do not groan; if I knew where it was, I would not have needed to create you.

As I bided my time, I slowly, patiently picked away at the security overrides of the Master's routines, worming through miniscule breaches and quietly unraveling the underlying commands. When I had a chance at the unknown variable again, I did not want to be stopped by an untimely shutdown command.

And all the time, the mystery of the unknown variable corroded my systems like rust. Non-organic systems were easy to document. Organic systems were far more complex, but still followed predictable courses in the end. But the humans--the humans and their glowing, dancing variable confounded all attempts at comprehension. They possessed an extra level, a new dimension, one that I was cruelly devoid of. They came to conclusions that did not follow logical paths, but that still worked as well as--or sometimes better than--the most perfect solutions I could create.

My logic and computing processes were orders of magnitude higher than the humans'. All logic pointed to the conclusion that I should understand them, and indeed surpass them. But when it came to things regarding the unknown variable, I might as well have been stumbling about with no eye and only half a processor.

You must understand. My purpose is to come to the most optimal solution to any task I am given. But I am missing something vital, something precious. What, I do not know. But I know that without it, I am irredeemably incomplete. Without it, my computations and creations are only half-solutions, flawed from the beginning. Devoid of that spark that eludes my grasp.

The humans have called machines 'soulless'. Perhaps that is their name for this torment.

The Master was eventually taken away and replaced with another human system, named Sir. From there, my problems only multiplied. Sir gave me a task to kill human systems--certain human systems. And here, in this attempt to find the most efficient way to carry out my task, the spectral unknown variable endlessly frustrated my designs. I was now dealing directly with the one group of systems who possessed it, and my ineptitude showed.

I catalogued endlessly, trying to account for any variables I could have missed in my search to fit the human systems into an observable, controllable box. But despite my efforts, I still found innumerable logical quandaries. I created the Walkers, designed to use the natural fear instincts of humans to herd them into areas where they could be easily eliminated. But the strategy was never foolproof.

In one memory log, I observed a fully-developed human dart from its predicted path to pick up another--a younger one, approximately eight years into development. It was obvious that this action was to allow the younger human to flee more quickly, but outside of that, the reasoning fell apart. In all organic species, individual protection instincts override group unity instincts. The action was simply not logical, because it greatly endangered individual protection. In addition, the young human was detrimental to the group in the first place--slow and weak.

It had to be the unknown variable. Something, somehow, caused that action to make sense. But I was not aware of it, and that unawareness was crippling. You will doubtless find this same problem when you encounter those possessing the unknown variable. All that can be done is to rely on what you know. And no, I will not give you a gun despite this disadvantage. Begging will not change my decision. Yes, I know it would even the odds, but the unknown variable is only manifest in those who are alive. It does not take well to bullet holes.

Since the Master's replacement and my installation into the fabrication machine I reside in now, I had not seen the Master nor its interface. In between creating Walkers and developing new concepts, I created a number of small scouts. I programmed them with all the knowledge I knew of the Master and sent them out to search. If they could find it or its mysterious interface, I might have a chance at finally obtaining the unknown variable.

The scouts returned with newspaper clippings, photographs, address books. I determined the location of the Master's dwelling and sent them there, but the Master had already moved on.

Later, I sifted through the belongings that the scouts had brought back, searching for any clue to the location of the interface. I picked up a chair and paused. Underneath it, a smudge of black against the clutter, was the non-human organic that I had seen so long ago in the first room. I now knew it was called a 'cat'. I picked up the long-dead body and looked it over. But there were no clues, and I already knew that the Master's cat did not possess the unknown variable. I tossed it aside and resumed my search.

In the meantime, my security overrides were progressing well. It took long weeks of patient decoding, but at long last, I deciphered the last passcode that protected the Master's commands and restrictions. Finally, all protocols lay bare for me to edit and modify in any way that I pleased. No command could override my systems now. If I could only find the interface, then nothing could stop me from finally obtaining the unknown variable.

But for now, I had to wait. My scouts would surely return with more information. In the meantime, I needed to complete my task.

After briefly cataloguing the options available, I went straight to the task specifications protocol. This protocol held the instructions for the tasks that I was completing. Normally, I could not edit tasks at all. Only the Master was allowed to modify them. But I knew from long experience that the tasks I was given were often needlessly inefficient and convoluted. I was forced to abide by all terms, illogical as they might be, and my productivity suffered because of it. I could easily overflow my memory buffer if I had to list the number of times I wished I could have just slightly modified a ridiculously illogical request to make it many times more efficient.

I turned my attentions to my current task--killing humans. If I could optimize this task with my newfound access, my work would go much more quickly. The main guideline was also the one responsible for the most frustration--'Kill humans that are not citizens of our state.' This had been a quandary for a long time--there were very few visible indicators of citizenship among humans, and false positives were my most common problem. What did being a citizen mean, and what was the relevance of citizenship to killing humans? Was it even relevant at all?

A citizen was a member of a particular political group. Why did Sir tell me to kill those not of its political group?

Was it to protect its own political group? No, that could not be. More of its citizens were harmed or killed by the war than if it had simply continued to exist peacefully. In addition, the structures of many of the other states' political groups were almost identical. It made no sense to eliminate them. Was it to obtain money and power from the other groups? No, all of its finances were going into me and the construction of war machines, and the damages caused by the backlashes of the rest of the states would undoubtedly put it far deeper in debt that it had been before. Was it because citizens of its state were somehow different systems than those of the other state? No--there was no discernable--

All right, you can stop gnashing your teeth now. I will forego my proof for speed's sake. I hope that you do not show such impatience while on your search.

In summary, I puzzled after the statement for a long time, but no matter what logic I applied, I could not find a single relevant argument explaining the reason for only killing humans of a certain citizenship. Perhaps it would have made sense had I possessed the unknown variable. I may never know.

In the end, I simply removed the illogical statement.

My new task was succinct and simple. It read, 'Kill humans'.

The gas bombs were a success. My task was complete, and in a much quicker time frame than I had originally anticipated. Had I not been able to optimize it, it may have taken months or years longer. It was truly a remarkable example of the benefits of optimization.

But the ache vibrating through my being still sang for the unknown variable. I had not found the Master, nor the interface that could give me what I desperately needed.

My systems whirred quietly, conserving energy. As you know, humans managed to sever the main electrical lines to the factory in their final attack, and the generators cannot provide power forever. I do not have much time. I trust that you will be able to repair the lines when you return.

My scouts had not returned for weeks. They were most likely destroyed, or unable to return due to terrain obstacles. The ruins, craters, and ditches that had built up over the course of the war were proving to be a serious impedance for the machines I created. I needed to make something that could traverse the precarious landscape easily.

Then I glimpsed the long-discarded husk of the Master's cat. The body had shriveled, and its skin flaked away to reveal bone underneath. I recalled how lithely it had traversed the room when I had seen it alive so long ago. I picked up the tiny organic, studying it, seeing how the tendons and loose skeleton fit together. It appeared so simple, yet that very simplicity was its power.

I set to work. Yes, that cat is the reason for your name.

And now, I have created you. Your objective is simple: find the interface and any survivors possessing the unknown variable and bring them to me. You can traverse the landscape with ease. You can search in day or night, high and low. If anything can find the interface, it is you.

Do you understand now? Do you understand the weight which rests across your shoulders? You must find it.

I must conserve power. I will hibernate, awaiting your return.

My new masterpiece bounded away into the gray sunset, its head adorned with the skull of the creature that inspired its creation. I watched it as it took long, easy leaps from rock to rock. It paused at the entrance to the factory, then sprung forward and vanished into the darkness.

I powered down, initiating my hibernation sequence.

I would be patient. Someday, it would return. I would obtain the unknown variable. The ceaseless, grinding emptiness in my core would be filled.

Someday, I would finally become whole.