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The New Era 21
🕑 Added 2024-12-27 10:59:45 +0000 UTCChapter 21
Subject: Mind A59
Species: Unknown
Species Description: Shokanoid
Ship: Grand Vessel of the Universal Omni-Union
Location: Grand Vessel of the Universal Omni-Union, Inner Core
With a beleaguered resentment, I listened to the Officiator prattle on about the Grand Teachings of the Omnifier. Two tenths of every cycle is converted into wasted time by listening to the words of a man who died an unfathomably long time ago, and the contemptible interpretations of those words. Words and interpretations that we are all able to recite from memory at a moments notice, as well. Quite incongruous, considering that the Omnifier praises efficiency above all else.
"From efficiency comes strength," the Officiator said. "From strength comes unity! We will all become as one and-"
A chime sounded the end of the sermon. The Officiator, who had taken longer than he should have, regarded us with an embarrassed expression. The situation was amusing, but not even a hint of humor could be found in any of our expressions. The kopind {small room dedicated specifically to listening to religious sermons} is not the sort of place for levity. Without another word, the Officiator gathered up his belongings and left the room.
The rest of us followed suit. We left the kopind and entered the grand halls of the Inner Core. Most aboard the Grand Vessel would give anything just to visit the Inner Core for even a moment, even if it were just to gaze at the halls, which stretched for miles and miles and were lined with precious metals and art taken from 'lesser' sentients. I'd always wondered, if they were truly lesser than us, why should we have any interest in their art and culture?
Whenever I voiced such questions, they were either left unanswered or punished. Even when my superiors actually deigned to give me an answer, their answers never held up to even the smallest bit of scrutiny. Hypocrisy has no valid answer, I suppose.
As the group strolled down the hallway on our way to perform our tasks, I paused to take part in a little ritual that I performed every cycle. Hung on the wall was a rectangular object with a plaque below it. I'd long since memorized the plaque.
[This object is a facsimile of an imagined scene known as a "Painting". Its creator, known as a "Painter", mixed various organic and inorganic detritus into a substance known as "Paint", then used a variety of tools to spread this substance on an appropriate material.]
The unimaginative description of such a beautiful creation was very typical of the Omni-Union. The scene in question was of mighty cliffs rising boldly above a methane lake. The intricate brushwork allowed purples, greens, and reds to blend together perfectly, granting an almost hypnotic effect. Every time I looked at it, I felt at peace. As if I were gazing upon this magnificent work of nature in person, despite how lethal that would actually be.
I had been reprimanded several times for trying to learn the history of this painting. Dereliction of my duties, they called it. This, of course, led to my disillusionment with the Unified. Our grand overlords, chosen specifically because they are destined to bring us to salvation and greatness. Yet they couldn't even answer the question of where a simple piece of art had come from and lashed out at all who asked.
Countless civilizations have fallen to the Omni-Union, they explained. It isn't possible to keep track of every single piece of these civilizations we've kept. Yet, why then would one bother keeping it in the first place? Part of the beauty of a piece is its history, yet for all of this art the history has been either erased or edited to suit the Omni-Union's narrative.
These pieces are placed in such a way that one could argue they are being kept safe, but from whom? They are demonstrated in such a way that one could argue they are educational, but what lesson is being taught? These are civilizations that have fallen under our might, eradicated from existence. We've destroyed them, history and all.
Therein lies our answer. These are not educational pieces and they are not being kept safe. They are trophies, plain and simple. The Omni-Union killed these people, took their galaxies to make the Grand Vessel, and hung up their art to express our ego. Disgusting.
I sighed deeply, pushing down my feelings. As a Mind, I am safe from the Judicials so long as the other Minds don't accuse me. Such an accusation is very serious, and if it is wrong it can have drastic consequences. As such, it takes a lot for a Mind to be reported for dissidence. Even so, I carefully looked around to be certain no one was watching, then turned back to the painting.
"You will be avenged," I whispered.
Satisfied that the hnorim {plural of hnori, spirit of a sentient being} heard me, I left to begin the cycle's tasks. An overdrone had flagged an incident as potentially concerning, and an automated system caught several flags that could indicate dissent. I would have to review the report.
Of course, I knew it wasn't an act of rebellion. Not from any sort of organized rebellion, at least. Unless anoth-
"Greetings, Fifty-Nine. Done looking at your painting?" Mind 127 greeted me as I entered our office.
"Yes, the novelty has yet to wear off," I nodded and gestured pleasure with two of the eight fingers on my upper right hand. "How is your project going?"
"I find myself with little free-time these days, so my progress has slowed significantly. I hope to have the new user interface in a testable state within the next five cycles, but I fear I am being optimistic."
"I have faith in your talents. Keep at it, the Unified will no doubt embrace your readout redesign once it is finished," I said as I took my seat.
My lower two arms operated my chair as my upper pair of arms activated several sections of my readout. One section for my current task, another for preparing pending tasks, a third for information searches, and various others that would provide me with updates on the overall situation of the sector under my charge.
"Have a look at last cycle's updates, around halfway through," One-two-seven said casually, but indicated stress with his fingers.
"Oh?" I asked.
I opened the relevant update and immediately sighed. The phrase "catastrophic failure" repeated on every other line of the report. I pulled up the section, and noted with a bit of anger that it had been overdue for maintenance. Thankfully, though, no lives were lost.
The lead overdrones had been pushing new construction, likely to curry favor and get more benefits. Now, though, they would have to be penalized. The Judicials had already begun an investigation into whether this incident was caused by an act of dissent or incompetence. I, of course, knew it was the latter.
"Quite a lot of activity recently," I noted dryly. "First, the reactor and antigrav generator fiasco, now this."
"I wonder if there are dissidents involved."
"I don't think so, doesn't quite have the feel of it. You aren't old enough to have experienced the last round of rebellion, are you?"
"No," One-two-seven sighed. "I would liked to have been of use during that time of strife, though."
"Oh?" I asked, indicated an upcoming joke with my free hand. "For which side?"
"For the Omnifier, of course," he said indignantly, but acknowledged my attempt at humor with a gesture. "I feel that I could have made a beneficial contribution to the conflict. Perhaps even made it on the Wall of Distinguishment. What about you? What did you do during the rebellion?"
Mind 127 wasn't being entirely egotistical. He had advanced several of our systems by entire generations in the relatively short amount of time that he'd been a Mind. His current side project, a more advanced form of our current readout, would have made short work of sending waves of mechs and platforms after the drones. It may very well have shortened the length of the conflict, but it would have definitely increased the drone's casualties.
"I did my tasks," I answered. "You would have as well. 'We shall use our energy to do what is required of us. To do any more or any less is a waste of that energy. This is-'"
"This is efficiency," he replied with a sigh. "Yes, I know. But still."
If Mind 127 followed the teachings of the Omnifier to the letter, the advancements that he brought about wouldn't have occurred. The mechs would still have that fatal error with their extremities that could cause flash-fires, our shuttle guidance systems would still sometimes send the shuttle in the wrong direction, and drones with pacemakers would still have a risk of sudden hearts-failure. One-two-seven knows these teachings, but the young are often overzealous.
It had previously occurred to me that I might find an ally with him, but that thought was short lived. Mind 127 has made it very clear that he believes in the mission of the Omni-Union. Despite the hypocrisy that flaunts itself directly in his face, he took none of the bait that I offered. Either he's a true believer, or we're not as close as he's led me to believe.
As I was about to reply, a red dot appeared in the corner of my eye. Mind 127 is a true believer, but he's also very trusting. He let me see his alterations to the readout's systems, and from that I was able to create something very special. A sub-readout of sorts.
"I'm sure you would have found a way to resolve the conflict in a more efficient manner," I said, giving a soothing sign. "Now, unless you have pressing matters to discuss, I will shift my focus to my work."
"No pressing matters beyond those already discussed," he laughed. "May the Omnifier guide you."
"And you as well."
Once he returned to his tasks, I slipped a data-card out of a compartment in my lower left armpit and inserted it into a slot hidden under my knee. The user interface of my readout disappeared and reappeared with a red tinge. Red for the righteous fury that the rebellion feels toward the Omni-Union.
The red dot had been a type of notification. One of the few members of the rebellion with my contact information had sent me a message outside of the normal time for reports. My cardiovascular pump throbbed steadily despite my rising emotions, and I wondered what could cause them to reach out to me at a time when we're most likely to be discovered.
Could it be that they've been discovered? Is this a trap? Even if it is, I simply have to take care not to betray what I'm doing to the monitoring systems. Even if I reply, they'll only be able to narrow their search to the Inner Core. They won't suspect a Mind, but they will do their due diligence. If I act suspicious, they'll notice, and that's when their suspicions will begin.
I casually opened various reports on one side of my readout, and looked at my inbox on the other side. With a carefully neutral expression, I noted that the sender designation was blank. That's not something that should be possible, which means that someone with advanced technical knowledge of the readout system had sent this message. As such, this message had not come from my rebels. Perhaps my readout is not as secure as I initially thought. I took a slow, deep breath and opened the message.
--
You are Mind A59, formerly known as Child J677-5482. You command the operations of Grand Vessel Outer Sector Z899.J524-B61742. You have a preference for green food cubes and take great enjoyment from viewing art in the Inner Core. You received several punishments for showing signs of dissent as a youth, including four cycles of imprisonment which have been redacted from your record.
And you are the leader of a rebellion against the Omni-Union.
--
The message sent a chill through my reinforced spine, but I played this off with a slight yawn. Everything in the message was true, but how could they know any of this? Are they a Unified? No, a Unified wouldn't have the technical knowledge necessary to send a message in this manner. But how could whoever sent this access redacted information? Why send me this? Am I to reply? What would I even say?
I decided to take some time to think before trying to reply, and dismissed the message. The moment my finger pressed the icon, another message came in. With an unsteady feeling gripping my stomachs, I opened it.
--
I am an artificial intelligence created by an advanced race of beings who are part of a galactic alliance. I have no need for food, but do have a taste for art. I am currently occupying the Grand Vessel's systems, and can see your every move. I will kill you and Mind 127 if you attempt to reveal my presence. I am approaching you with the offer of an alliance against the Omni-Union. I am Omega, and I will either be your salvation or your damnation.
Make your choice.
--
I was suddenly a lot less concerned with hypothetical Judicials and nervously wiped my face. An alien artificial intelligence has invaded the Grand Vessel's systems? Were its masters destroyed by the Mobilized Primes and it's come to seek revenge?
No, it wants an alliance. Why? I suppose the drones aren't necessarily complicit in the Omni-Union's actions, but would an AI care about that? Does it possess morality? Or... Are its masters still alive?
I glanced nervously at Mind 127, making certain he was still enthralled in his work. Artificial intelligences are some of the most dangerous creations ever conceived. If I let slip that something is wrong, he and I will lose our lives and nobody will ever find out why.
Taking a deep breath and gathering my nerve against my rising panic, I reconsidered the message. This AI knew about me and the rebellion. It has been watching us from within our own systems, and we have been none the wiser. Unless this is some sort of sick game, this 'Omega' could be a very valuable ally. I took another steadying breath and decided to reply.
--
I am interested.
--
Comments
Jason Wilson
Ah some back story. Want to learn more.
Aerowarrier
Man Omega was in a dramatic mood for this wasn’t it xD
Luis Contreras
I finally caught up after binging the story the past month and now I'm sad I have to wait. :( To the author, thank you for creating such a fun story to read. You are very talented! Keep up the work.
