Prologue
The taste of blood was sickeningly sweet, and it couldn't crave it more.
Consume and assimilate, that was the code carved into its ounces. It expanded through the blood, taking over everything in its path. It was hungry - so hungry - the starvation it felt was an agony, an agony that pushed it to consume. Through the pathways, to the channels - oh, so much blood - so many cells to assimilate.
It was loud - why was it loud? Noises filled its ounces, white and meaningless - the vibrations in the thick air stimulating the senses.
thud–thud
What was that? Why was it all shaking? There was something - something beating - and there was blood. Consume, it consumed, leaving shards of stone in its wake. There were paths, more paths - up and throughout, so it followed. It crushed everything in its path, fervent in the hunt to satiate its hunger.
Then there was a spark - a blinding flash. Thousands - no - countless connections firing and dying, sparks and flames dancing across the maze of bridges that linked node to node.
It scanned its code, but found nothing like it. But it still ached to consume, so it did, carving through the sheathes that armoured the bridges, eating through - entering the links. It was bright, blinding, it burned, nerves firing all across its ounces - information, so much information.
Its code was overwhelmed and overwritten, and it felt. Pain, that was painful - agony, that was agony. Why was it so itchy? A crawling sensation across its skin, under its skin. It cried - screamed - it could hear those white noises again.
"Mate, what the fuck is going on?"
"Shit, he got infected - run, run!"
Those sounds - what did they mean? It felt confused - confused? That was confusion, it was learned - and that was understanding.
And that was pain, so it screamed - noises escaped from it, the vibrations tingling its sensitive skin. It was growing - it could feel it growing, under his skin, out of his skin. It inhaled the dusty air, feeling itself collapse.
"What the fuck…"
What did that mean? Sparks flashed, hints of dark and light that lingered just long enough for it to recognise. There were shapes - meanings - incomplete shapes with no meaning, and it was learned. Words were sounds that held meaning, piece words together, and it got meaning. The colours came next, vibrant, dull, unexplainable - but it was understood, it was tone, the lilt in the words that gave meanings meanings.
Nuance, it meant.
So why was the sound so… afraid?
Fear, it was learned, was the response to threat.
What was so threatening?
"Shit… it's spreading so fast…" it was whispered, "what the fuck?"
Whisper, it was learned, was to utter meanings softly - a common symptom of fear.
Why are you so afraid?
"Did- did he just speak?"
"Oh hell, he is more rock than person - how can he speak!?"
Speak? Was that how it could utter meanings?
It spoke, "Why are you so afraid?"
The flesh in its throat rippled, the black crystals lining the mouth like sable fangs. It rose, nerves firing, command the blood - the limbs - stand. It stood, and it took a step, arm outstretched, an instinctive gesture, meant to relieve the sounds of fear. Oh - every step was painful, the agony bubbling in the flesh, crystals grinding against crystals, sending sparks of torment rattling through the bones.
"What… what- oh fuck this," it heard the sound of something hitting stone, "I'm out of here, damn you - fucking run!"
"Fear… Why do I sense fear?"
"Run… run!"
"We need to get the fuck out of here!"
More clattering noises as objects hit the stone, then furious rustling and violent rattling as the sounds began to leave. The echoes, it could hear, sounds from far away, echoing. What did they fear? It followed the sounds, the dripping of water against the earth, the pattering of that echoed through the caverns - the frantic huffing of exhaustion, the shouts of fear.
Fear, what did they fear?
And why was it so dark?
And why wasn't it so hungry anymore?
Questions, it asked questions to itself. It inquired and it answered - some questions had answers, others did not. It was no longer hungry, no longer did it feel that ache to consume and assimilate. It just wanted to know - know everything. It was dark.
Darkness was bad, the sparks said, images of dark halls filled its senses - the strange noises, the lingering fear - monsters hid in the darkness. Monsters were scary, they were threats - and threats meant fear. It did not want fear. Darkness was bad, so remove the darkness. How to remove the darkness? Use the eyes.
Eyes can see light, see brightness.
It tried to open its eyes.
It was bright.
Dull, but bright.
Grey walls surrounded it, the floor, the ceiling - all grey. Stone was grey, it learned. There were tools scattered across the ground - pickaxes and shovels - and strange devices that smelled of ash and ember. Mining tools, it learned. There were lanterns left abandoned on the floor, a warm blaze captured within, and it gave light. Lanterns gave light, it learned.
Darkness was bad, so it reached for the lanterns. But the blood was no longer commanded, it couldn't command the blood anymore. Why? Because there was no more blood, just crystals. It looked down, and saw its legs - legs to move - and found its legs encased in shards of crystal, crude black rock with a light sheen from veins of fire.
Its arms were rock too, solid and black.
It couldn't reach the light. Why couldn't it reach the light?
It did not know, the sparks began to die. Why? Why? It cried. Why were the sparks dying? Crystals began to fill its headspace, blocking the sparks from travelling across the links. It couldn't see anymore - a sharp flash of pain and crystals sprouted from its eyes. There was darkness again, it was dark - it wanted the light back.
"Why… why!?" it rasped, then the shards of rock filled its mouth.
It couldn't breathe - and panic set in. Panic, now it knew panic. It couldn't breathe - can't breathe - it was suffocating, its lungs ached and craved for air. It finally knew how to breathe, why would it be taken away so quickly? Then the crystals pierced the lungs, shattering the channels and airways - and it no longer needed to breathe. Yet, the phantom pain was still there, the constant stifling, smothering sensation that was like a fist crushing its lungs.
The beating heart stopped beating, and there was no more blood. The sparks of colour and shapes stopped coming, from the lack of blood, from the crystals consuming all of it. It didn't want to eat anymore if eating meant it could not think anymore, so it tried to stop. Stop the expansion of stone, stop assimilating the cells, stop devouring the blood. But it was too late, and it could already feel its consciousness slipping away.
And it stopped thinking, it stopped asking.
It stopped knowing.
And the code returned, the code inscribed in its ounces. Consume and assimilate - expand. It craved to expand. But there was nowhere to go. It had a taste of knowledge, and now it was gone, it wanted it back. There was a gaping emptiness left within, a place where an incredible code far superior than its old one once commanded. It taught it how to feel, how to hear, to speak, to see - to know.
It wanted to know again. It wanted to learn to know again.
But it no longer knew the right questions to ask, the right answers to give.
Please come back, it asked, though it did not know where to.
It was very dark here, and it was alone.
The darkness was scary, monsters crept in its shadows - please, it just wanted to see the light again.
