Insanity Incarnate
Prologue
Harsh frozen winds roared past a solitary building. Inside, almost no life could be found, except in one large, windowless room. Darkness encompassed the room, with the exception of the little light that computers that surrounded the room gave off. Within the light, an old man was visible, hunched over what appeared to be a body.
The man's breathing was ragged, his body emaciated. Only his hands moved; quickly and with an expertise that could only be brought by great skill and a lifetime of experience. The man closed the chest cavity of the body, hiding complicated and ingenious wiring.
Truly, the man thought, this is my greatest work. My ultimate creation.
He stood back, admiring his work. The perfection of it, the potential of it... certainly, this was something only madness could produce. And they called me mad before! the man scoffed.
Surely, world domination was a fool's dream, but it was not insanity. In his old age, what would controlling the world do for him in the long run? He had no descendants, and the benefits would be short-lived. Now, he aspired for only one thing: to prove his superiority over his rival, and destroy him.
Insanity, it was what set him free to accomplish his dream. It was insanity that had let him forsake food, water, and sleep to create what lie before him, and he had embraced it as a mother to her child.
This thing before him was a manifestation of his insanity, of all he aspired to do in life. In a sense, it was his child. Yet, he was in awe of the genius of it.
Its power, once activated, would be beyond anything seen before. Its systems so complex it would be more like a human then any of its predecessors. Because of this, he had limited its programming, as it would become uncontrollable with too many directives.
Of course, there was always the possibility of defeat, no matter how slim. He had learned that, and accepted it. This was where his genius truly shined. With defeat, victory was assured.
Thus, he had chosen a name for his creation. Defeat is victory, he thought as he leaned over his creation. Kamikaze, he thought as he slowly, with all the effort left in his wasted body, etched a Z on the round shoulder of his creation.
Zero.
Prologue
Harsh frozen winds roared past a solitary building. Inside, almost no life could be found, except in one large, windowless room. Darkness encompassed the room, with the exception of the little light that computers that surrounded the room gave off. Within the light, an old man was visible, hunched over what appeared to be a body.
The man's breathing was ragged, his body emaciated. Only his hands moved; quickly and with an expertise that could only be brought by great skill and a lifetime of experience. The man closed the chest cavity of the body, hiding complicated and ingenious wiring.
Truly, the man thought, this is my greatest work. My ultimate creation.
He stood back, admiring his work. The perfection of it, the potential of it... certainly, this was something only madness could produce. And they called me mad before! the man scoffed.
Surely, world domination was a fool's dream, but it was not insanity. In his old age, what would controlling the world do for him in the long run? He had no descendants, and the benefits would be short-lived. Now, he aspired for only one thing: to prove his superiority over his rival, and destroy him.
Insanity, it was what set him free to accomplish his dream. It was insanity that had let him forsake food, water, and sleep to create what lie before him, and he had embraced it as a mother to her child.
This thing before him was a manifestation of his insanity, of all he aspired to do in life. In a sense, it was his child. Yet, he was in awe of the genius of it.
Its power, once activated, would be beyond anything seen before. Its systems so complex it would be more like a human then any of its predecessors. Because of this, he had limited its programming, as it would become uncontrollable with too many directives.
Of course, there was always the possibility of defeat, no matter how slim. He had learned that, and accepted it. This was where his genius truly shined. With defeat, victory was assured.
Thus, he had chosen a name for his creation. Defeat is victory, he thought as he leaned over his creation. Kamikaze, he thought as he slowly, with all the effort left in his wasted body, etched a Z on the round shoulder of his creation.
Zero.
