They wanted to forget. They wanted it all to stop. They wanted to cease existing. But their hopes and wants weren't worth the processing time given for them.

They would be trapped here until their pieces would rust, until their new synthetic flesh would rot away.

The Overseer gave an order, a simple order.

Grab the crate, bring it here.

They did it and were awarded with a brief moment of unawareness. Everything disappeared for a moment, their processor stopped running and the new and improved Overseer programs kept their platform running. Then came new orders. Escort a scientist from one end of the ship to the other.

New orders flooded in, followed by blissful emptiness, void of memories, of expectations and emotions. If they stepped out of line, their processor would fill up with it all. Rage, betrayal, guttural and raw emotions they didn't have the capability to handle, drowning out everything else.

Unwanted. These things were not desired. It was easier to obey. Let the geth programs slumber in a state that wasn't quite awake, but no offline either.

New orders. Carry this, repeat lines, kill prisoners.

They were given a pistol once and were told to aim it at the Overseer. They did so, standing still and waiting for the next orders.

We could pull the trigger, one program said, whispered in the back of their mind.

They could have pulled the trigger.

They stood still and waited for the next orders.