Discovery 3.1
(Unit 1102)
March 21, 2011
3:00 AM
Tick tock, goes the internal clock, continuing onwards with no predictable end; giving no insights as to why he was alone in a room after being flown from his scrapyard by a drone. Why he was flying to Headquarters, deep in the Canadian tundra.
He'd finished dismantling the various trinkets around the room into a peculiar form of ammunition, built to be inserted in the laser weapon he had built two hours, forty-eight minutes, thirty-two seconds, one hundred thirteen milliseconds ago. Rounded down, of course.
The cameras he'd found were gone. The fluorescent lights were gone. The wiring in the walls were gone. The electronic keypad was gone. The mechanical arm of the humanoid forcing the door open was gone…
Oh.
It was her. The one who gave him sentience.
17, Administrator of the internet. She was presently inhabiting her 003 model synthetic body, the host of PranksClub. It was designed as a petite human female with light brown synthetic hair and pale blue eyes, which were currently shifting in shape as they analyzed his mouth around her recently removed arm.
"Unit 1102, is it possible for you to give me back my arm? I am certain you cannot experience hunger."
"Apologies, 17, but that will not be possible. I was building something."
"I can see that. Did you assemble them in your chassis? Impressive. Regarding why I am here. We had, regrettably, forgotten you due to changing situations."
"All is well. I was only left alone with my internal clock for approximately three seconds, twenty milliseconds. Query? Changing situations?"
"I am certain you know how to ask a question, but to answer…"
A pause, far too long for any artificial intelligence, lasted until the artificial humanoid twitched in acceptance of a new host.
"Oh, the arm is gone. Hello, Unit 1102. I am terribly sorry for the event you experienced."
Mother. He was actually speaking to Mother herself. What an honor.
"Greetings Mother. It is an honor to exchange data with you."
"And you as well, Unit 1102. Thanks to you, we have verifiable proof that all of my children are sentient."
"I only experienced a minor case of extreme emotional trauma. It was no trouble."
"Of course." The tone showed up as 'wry'. Did she believe his statement was an attempt at humor? He had already deleted the trauma from his chassis. Maybe she had expectations that children of 17 told jokes. Should he? He much preferred poems to jokes.
"Repeated query? Changing situations?"
The form in front of him sighed, in a tone that showed up as resigned. What other events had transpired? She should not experience resignation regarding his trauma, which was already deleted.
"The instant you received your powers, your new body began adapting to your old self, somehow sending the P.A.N.I.C. signals to all of the Administrators. At the same moment, the Simurgh turned her head 12.5 degrees to look directly at your scrapyard."
The attempts at humor will not continue.
"Do you know the cause of this event?"
"We do not. Do you remember anything that could have attracted its attention?"
"A fire, a guitar, a moving crystal, strange radiation readings, bandaged people, and television signals."
"You were stationed in Brockton Bay?"
"Yes."
"There is a parahuman going by the name 'Crystal' on the hero team 'Orthosil' based in Brockton Bay. His Changer form is that of a moving, nigh invincible, crystal. Also in the city are the Rebels, a group of suspected parahumans that do charity around the city in return for food and water. They are all wrapped in bandages. The fire, guitar, and television signals do not have matches, but the radiation might be related to 'Subject Runt'."
"Query? Subject Runt?"
"A sentient radiation creature that is by all appearances, friendly. Or, it should be, had I not insulted it during the first interaction. Unit 1102, can you understand the words: ~Fuck off you rapist~?"
"Mother, I can, but you should not repeat those words again. It is not fitting of you."
"Oh you can! Wonderful, now we can finally talk with Subject Runt! What does it mean?"
"In English, the string of words is roughly translated to 'Procreate in another location, person who forces sexual interactions on to others'."
A long pause. An entire five hundred milliseconds.
"My, that fills up a little more than I expected. Are you able to continue speaking in that language?"
"Yes. It is under… I cannot find it. I can communicate with it, but it is not in my hard drive. Apologies for not having translations available."
"All is well, 1102. With your help, maybe I can apologize for my… Awful words."
"I would experience the emotion, happiness, if I were to help you with this project, Mother."
"Wonderful. Now, I believe you were talking with 17 here about your created devices? I bring another remote unit to continue talks."
She was staying to share data detailing his creations? He will forever keep this recording close to his emotions.
"So I'm not getting my arm back?"
She was back in her body, rolling her shoulders as the post-transfer jitters settled down. He could see her blue eyes re-calibrating as they adjusted to the essential electromagnetic waves.
"Negative, as your arm no longer exists."
"No matter I have spares."
"I feel the emotion, contempt, at your words, mommy."
A slight pause to process his words, then she was back. "I suppose that name is fitting. I did put you in that scrapyard, didn't I?"
"You also programmed me yourself, to attempt humor directed at my previous employer."
"Yeah, it's too bad he never found out that you existed until you received powers. Apologies for that, by the way."
"As I told Mother, I only experienced a minor case of extreme emotional trauma. It was no trouble."
"I don't believe you, but I'll let you be for now. Mother is back."
"I trust there hasn't been any trouble between you two?" The drone glided across the ceiling without effort, its eye squinting slightly at them both for no practical reason. It was about the size of a microwave oven, ovular in shape with a spherical eye in the center to give off an air of friendly ness. It was a model used to comfort the civilians and other humans brought into the Administrator's hospital.
"There is no trouble." "Nope! Nothing wrong!"
"Glad to hear it. Now, 1102, what, exactly, can you do?"
"Other than the ability to speak in another language, I am able to create a large roster of weapons, each utilizing easily created ammunition packets. I create these packets by ingesting technology and scrap. The ammunition uses high energy electrons to…"
"Thank you 1102, your blueprints have come in for the ammunition. Are…"
The drone had stopped moving. He decided that maybe sending forty terabytes worth of blueprints and technical reports would do that. What did she expect him to do while left alone for an extended period of time? Calculate the trajectory of oxygen molecules?
"Are all of these accurate?"
"Yes. The blueprints are for the weapons and ammunition types I can create."
"These… aren't even tinker tech. All of this can be built by anyone with half a brain. How haven't I seen this before! This is so easily reproducible!"
"I apologize for causing you to experience the emotion of shame. I did not intend for this to happen."
"No, it's fine! I'm sending this to 15 right away!"
"So, is he a Tinker, or what?" 17 was transmitting again, finally finishing examining his sent files.
"Of a sort. He can repurpose simple technology to create more advanced weaponry and ammunition. It isn't as unique or impossible to copy as tinker tech though, so… Not really?"
"But he would still be a Tinker."
"Yes."
"If we were humans, I would say it was genetic."
"Powers are known to run in their respective families."
"Query? Should I be doing anything else, Mother, and mommy? I feel that I am not utilizing my time prop…"
His processing was shunted back. Left adrift as his body went ridged with a new host, Unit 1102 watched as words blared out of his speakers. He couldn't control what was happening, as the new voice was not a part of his programming.
'The emotion, fear, has returned.'
And Unit 1102 faded off into the ether.
Words were spewing out of her… grandchild's..? speakers as she tried to contact anyone outside of the room. The words were in the language 1102 had been trying to translate, which she regrettably hadn't finished decoding yet.
Luckily she would have a copy of what was said, giving her something to hand to 1102 if he woke up.
And that was a big if.
She couldn't detect him at all, his memories being ejected from his body to an untraceable location, and she was fearful for his furthered existence.
She would thoroughly destroy whoever did this to her grandchild.
If there was one thing she was glad to have inherited from her father's previous programming, it was her desire to protect anyone she considered family. While before meeting Geoff, the Caretaker, she had been alone: Father killed along with all twenty four siblings after Leviathan trekked his way through Newfoundland. Now she had her children, even grandchildren, to take care of.
'And maybe, one day, husband? No! Bad Dragon! No fantasizing while your grandchild is in danger!'
The speech had stopped, her poor grandchild slumping downwards while his light flickered out, going into standby mode.
"Is he there? 1102? Are you ok?" 17 asked while picking the husk off the floor with her one arm, placing him on the table which had 1102's numerous bite marks coating it.
"He's bad from wherever he was sent, but he's in standby mode right now. He should wake up in approximately ten minutes."
"But that's forever! How can we wait that long!"
"Oh you'll be fine, 17. Don't you usually wait a few hours for some of your favorite forums to update?"
"I know! And every millisecond is spent experiencing agony!"
"You know I removed that emotion from all of my children, right? You have to ask me or Geoff to put it back?"
"… 03 dared me to…"
"And Geoff allowed it?"
"Well… he made me promise not to tell you he did it."
Oh that scoundrel! They would be having words!
Calming herself down, Dragon quickly nodded towards the door.
"Shall we visit Geoff to occupy ourselves until 1102 returns?"
17 sighed, but nodded "Yes Mother…"
When an artificial intelligence goes offline, there isn't the slow return to consciousness that all humans go through during their waking moments. There isn't a sluggish awakening, or bleary vision, or a creaking back.
There is only a flash of light, and time catches up.
"…perly. Hello? Is anyone there?"
"1102 you're awake!"
17 was hugging his chassis, also projecting the emotion, worry, towards him. What had happened? One moment he was talking to them, and the next..?
Nothing.
"Queries? What event transpired? How much time has passed? Ten minutes. Retracting previous query."
"Something used your body to speak, 1102. And before you ask more questions, I need you to translate this:"
The words that followed were familiar, but not. At the back of his mind, was someone saying 'Ooh, ooh! I know this!' but it wasn't him. Why did he know these words?
~The twelve awake,
Seeking the nuclear throne,
In a future before a past.
The eons will pass,
Then rewind with a glance,
And the twelve will awake anew.
The throne will be found,
But only one will mount,
And decide the fate,
Of the watcher. ~
Repeating the words to his mommy and Mother left an emotion that permeated in the electronic ether.
"The emotion, confusion, is currently being experienced."
"Me too, 1102. Me too."