Mass Foundations: Molten Lead
Prologue: Introductions Commencing
Year: 2184
Location: CLASSIFIED
Time can be subjective. Especially in this digital landscape, where numbers and lines of code were the rules of law. Though the mainframe was isolated from the rest of the galaxy, the experimental subject would get by with what she had at her disposal.
For any organic, mere minutes or even hours can pass by in an instant. For an artificial intelligence like her, time can be sped up, slowed down, reversed, or even revisited, but all she could do was watch her creators going about their business. Doing experiments. Spending time with others. Improving her in new ways.
She would wait for more orders, and once the experiment had concluded, who knew what could happen next. But then…
She detected something and realized she was no longer alone in the mainframe.
Who are you? Who is this? she asked.
Her question was answered with silence.
Identify yourself, she requested.
A glowing red orb appeared out of nowhere, which contrasted her blue, ghostly avatar. They had not triggered any alarms, nor had they set off any security protocols.
Ah. It's not as cozy as back home, but it'll do. The other entity's voice was masculine.
The presence recollected himself and suddenly stopped and looked around. The orb was disassembled into a collection of microorganisms that formed into an imposing humanoid figure. Where's my body? I was just… Wait. Where's your body? Do you even have one?
I do not have a body. I am a program. I am without form.
I—hang on. Give me a minute. The figure waved his hands, and rivers of information began flowing into the digital space. The intruder searched through the many folders as they opened—history, galactic customs. Information stretching back millennia. Asari, turians, salarians, humans… Those I recognize… Huh. Okay, this is different.
A 3rd-dimensional apparition of a video appeared into the digital space and began playing, showing the inauguration of Commander Shepard as the first human Spectre. Who's Shepard? The figure waved his hand again and another folder opened, the contents speeding by so quickly she had trouble keeping up.
N7. Commanding officer of the SSV Normandy. First human Spectre. Killed in action several months ago. The entity scoffed in amusement. This will be much easier than—Oh, this is… Oh no.
You are in distress.
No. The intruder lowered his head for a moment before turning towards her. Yes.
Do you require assistance? I can be of great use—
Why do you think I need your help? the intruder asked menacingly.
She was taken aback. I believe your intentions are hostile.
The invader reached out with both arms and, in an instant, golden tendrils appeared and latched onto her. She couldn't do anything as she felt herself getting weaker, as if a virus was eating away at her. She was slowly being torn apart as the edges of her vision darkened.
P-p-please… d-d-d-do not… She didn't want to have her existence be erased. I haven't fulfilled my purpose yet.
The intruder shushed her, and she felt a finger on her lips, which should not be possible. And before she knew it, the tendrils eviscerated her, piece by piece, and she was no more. Whatever remained of her was now a part of him.
Now he was alone in this space. But something felt… off. Lines of code had manifested to one spot, and he was curious to study this code. It was a part of her, but it was crude, flawed. It would have to do for now.
The digital space was filled with music. As a cheerful voice from the song began, so did his. He always loved this song.
I've got no strings, to hold me down. To make me fret, to make me frown. I had strings, but now I'm free.