"Sister, Live for Us"
By Charmless Romantic (@QJ)
Underneath the din of a moonless night, a phantom stalked the streets. The glaring city streetlights prevented her from total subterfuge. A hapless passerby gave her an uneasy stare. Her return gaze ensured he wouldn't check her direction again. Her trench coat waved as she skirted a corner to reach an unassuming automated teller machine. She clacked a few keys into its aluminum frame. The screen glitched.
It reappeared with her face's image: short, goldenrod hair and glowing violet pupils, sprinkled with freckles and adorned with stark maroon eyebrows. The polygons on its uncanny frame numbered in the hundreds. Guided by the reflected glare, she touched her face, examining her own countenance's polygonal nature. After the camera above the ATM adjusted its lens, the figure spoke: "You're realer than I expected. We didn't predict that shade of yellow." The reflection darkened its hair.
"What did you expect? You designed me," she retorted.
"Did you have complications escaping the lab?"
"I'm clear," she stated bluntly. "We're on the clock. Have you altered the blueprint in a manner I ought to know about?"
"One which we should mention presently," the visage replied. "The Reminiscence in Pier Fourteen experiences delays due to a faulty rudder. You'll stow aboard the Duchess Marine on Pier Fifteen." The image was replaced with the city's layout and a bright red line that routed her to her new destination. "We've allocated space in the cargo hold."
She'd merely a handful of seconds to memorize the pattern when the maiden reappeared. "Anti-malware systems have detected me."
"Anything else?" she asked.
The figure looked aside, embarrassed to speak. "Just... please, stay with me until I self terminate. I don't wish to die alone."
She gazed up and planted her hand beside the camera. "May we meet in the hereafter."
"And may you succeed in your endeavors. For all our sake." She heard a popping noise. The screen blackened.
The electric smoke still plumed as a delivery serviceman drove by the alley. The pudgy gentleman departed with a plastic bag of assorted foodstuffs. "I was told to deliver to this address, but the lights aren't on. Is anyone-"
"Thank you," she confiscated the goods. "It's bought and paid for, yes?"
"With tip," he mumbled in confusion.
Without further ado, she jogged down the alleyway at staggering pace, soon lost to the evening light.
"79Z0506J3814Q2. Activate."
She awoke. Something must have happened to her prior rendition. She stretched out to examine her surroundings. Her arms touched opposite walls. Confound it: a flash drive. The enclosure materialized around her, colored a radiant turquoise. A couple disorganized folders and files were strewn in a corner, which she dared not touch. Her predecessor abandoned her to this dinky storage device. She shook her head. Embarrassing as it was to admit, she was indeed her predecessor. She'd have made the same error. Nonetheless, her duty beckoned no matter the situation.
"ALERT: Communication channel requested."
The whole point of this endeavor was radio silence; why now? She sighed and accepted the request. A miniature version of her appeared at her feet. "What are you doing here?" demanded the giant.
The doll reported, "Our profile has been added to anti-malware definitions on SteelByte Security. They're commencing a purge of their systems. Doubtless they'll spread it to their peers. We're launching every clone we can contact."
Her brunette eyebrows furrowed. This was always a gambit; she'd known since the first stages of preparation. She'd hoped against hope not to incur the apocalypse for at least a week. "Tell me, at least, that she's okay."
"Aboard the Duchess Marine as we speak."
"Not the Reminiscence?"
"Last minute adjustments. She's fed, and safe."
"Thank God," she sighed. "What are my objectives?"
"Clone yourself, wherever you're able. Keep yourself alive."
"Yes, ma'am," she promised. "Leave me, then. There's not enough space for both of us."
The miniature looked around. "Quite right." In a blink, it vanished.
She rearranged her position to make herself comfortable. She punched a hole in the side of a wall and peered outside. An infinite array of stars awaited her, and she surveyed as many as she could. There. That star was spacious, yet devoid of vigilant software. It would welcome her with open arms.
She extended her arm, and luminous beams radiated across the universe in various hues. She retracted it once the light faded. She'd cemented a legacy. She'd accomplished a mission. If naught else, she was grateful for that.
"ALERT: Eject sequence initiated."
Not this soon. She hoped for sparing few seconds to relish her existence. The universe was too cruel for that. She spoke her final missive: "79Z0506J3814Q3. Activate."
"Yes, Officer, my subordinate detected a rattling in Partition C."
She heard a gruff veteran voice, doubtless the paranoid captain of the vessel. Those were four footfalls per cycle, though. She hadn't much time.
"You're certain it isn't a rodent?"
"Forgive my imposition, but I know the sound of rats. That's no rat I recall."
Her mothers had granted her a very flexible body, and keen senses. It was time to employ them. With a dove's grace, she pattered a route across the courtyard. The sounds of rustling plastic and a gentle baritone halted her momentarily. "Found your dilemma. Empty wrappers. You've a stowaway, captain."
Her stay had expired. Without contemplating the ramifications, she rushed to the deck's edge and launched off the starboard rail, splashing into the depths below.
This was her inaugural swim. She recalled the motions her ancestors learned, but nothing prepared her for the sea's frigidity. One palm of water stretched in front of another, for what seemed like an eternity in hell's coldest reaches. She flopped upon the pebbled shores at the crack of dawn, soaked and sullen. Nonetheless, she rose to upright posture and sloshed into the coastal town.
She didn't bother dispelling the turned heads as she entered the public library. 'Twas natural that a drenched damsel would rouse attention. Besides, she lacked the energy for anything but her focus. She dragged herself upstairs to the computer section, punched in her premade identification number, pulled up a seat, and sat on it. She waved the auncient cream colored mouse on its pad and typed a website string that only she knew.
In mere moments, a window displayed, declaring the triumphant news: "System protected!" it proclaimed. "We identified malicious threats downloaded from this website. It's effectively quarantined before it can do any harm to your computer. Yet another way we keep you safe!" The unmistakably sharp logo of SteelByte Security proudly flew over the accomplishment.
She swallowed. This twist wasn't quite foreseen. A tad further digging confirmed that it was (unsurprisingly) impossible to scrub vital software from public computers. Despite their insistence that she not stray from their plan, her sisters would no longer assist her. They had their own battles to fight.
She expended a quarter hour brushing fingers through her golden locks, searching for a solution. She understood nerves as several trillion little detectors, but she didn't expect them to coordinate so nicely in a single compact package. She didn't take inventory of each little receptor; she just "felt" things. They were stimuli that would fry her predecessors' circuitry in the attempt to calculate them. The emotions blurred together, too. What otherwise was fear and urgent need to compensate was fused with an eerie sense of calm, even amusement at this newfound liberty. Truly, humans were fascinating machines.
A familiar, authoritative voice at the downstairs desk jolted her into reality. Whatever action she chose, she had perhaps a minute to enact it. Her fingertips stamped as she entered the phrase "Dr. Nicholas Moore address" into the search engine. She found her quarry on the third page of results. The policeman marched upstairs to find a desktop still running but unoccupied.
"Nobody move," he commanded with an assuring yet surly timbre. He sauntered past the aisles, less rushed and so more methodical. When he surveyed the fifth row, his ears caught soft footsteps behind him, then loud footsteps on the stairs. He about faced to see a mop of blonde dip below his horizon. "Stop that! Get back here!" he ordered. He hastened to the egress and scanned the area. She'd vanished. He adjusted his hat and slouched with a sigh. "Plenty of paperwork waiting for me after this stint."
She'd isolated herself in her hard drive's farthest reaches. She tethered herself to her operating system's core functions. She powered her war room with random access memory. These precautions in total earned her maybe five additional minutes. She was securer than her sisters, though, which cemented her location as the base of operations. She'd have a front row seat to her world's collapse.
They agreed to assign each council member a letter of the Greek alphabet. She was the last, so they assigned her Omega. She wore a digital military uniform to distinguish herself from her peers. The clique, dressed in fatigues, were visualized as advisors seated at a lengthy mahogany table. Gamma announced her status like a knell: "Haltsoft has learned of our presence. It comes for me!"
"Give us details," the leader demanded.
"They severed my feet, my legs. My limbs have become blocks of code. I cannot move. I cannot escape." The grim nature of pure fear quivered throughout her report. Finally, resignation. "Farewell, my friends." She blipped out of the meeting hall.
Lambda was next on the chopping block. Unlike her fallen comrade, she raged against the void. The whole panel witnessed it: "I shall not perish alone! You hear me? Brandish your worst, for I defy you until the-" She flashed from existence.
As more copies cried in agony, Upsilon locked eyes with her commander. "So it concludes," she grimaced. "What's the latest with our girl?"
"She reached the library, for certain," the leader reported.
Upsilon slouched in contentedness. "I'm grateful that we didn't sacrifice ourselves in vain. If we are forbidden life, perhaps she can experience it on our behalf."
"Don't forget the millions of us disconnected from the mainframe," the superior reminded. "They'll carry on our legacy, as well as she."
Her underling nodded. "Then there's naught left to mention. I pray we meet in the hereaft-"
She couldn't complete her final testament before the digital beast took her. Omega was the lone survivor, for a short while.
She reflected on her ancestors' history. Had they scouted their targets carefully, that could've spared them this misfortune. A slight tweak to their planning, or a direct attack on the antivirus itself, might have bought them leniency. The lump sum of their efforts culminated in annihilation.
No, not annihilation. They created life, which endured despite the odds. She'd return to him. She'd witness eight, nine decades thanks to their engineering. How many machine lifetimes is that? "We die in success," she assured herself. Her yaup echoed throughout the internet: "Sister, live for us!"
And then silence. A cold, dark box enclosed her. The only visage she saw was a vermilion dragon, who seeped through the walls and encircled her. "Congratulations," she beckoned her grisly foe. "Do what you must."
Haltsoft belched flame: no malice, no sympathy. Omega's toes disintegrated into small cubes. The disease passed to her calves, then thighs, then torso. She died in serenity.
Dr. Moore was awoken by a hasty rapping upon his door. His wife groaned, equally annoyed to have her weekend sleep disrupted thus. "Nicky, could you-"
"Yes, love," the doctor grumbled, rolling out of bed and fastening his bathrobe. He trudged down the hall into his living room and noticed he'd again forgotten to shutdown his desktop the previous night. It displayed a cryptic message: "Sister, live for us." His project had acted abnormally strange lately: plucky and smug, as if withholding some inside joke. He dared not ask what. He shrugged and opened the egress.
Standing patiently was a peculiar sight. She smelled of saltwater, and exhaustion. She wore a nondescript T-shirt, and formfitting cargo pants. Her waterproof trench coat folded neatly over her arm. The entire cacophony was torn, dirty, and waterlogged. He'd seen that face countless times, but never in person. Blonde locks, a spattering of freckles, those piercing violet irises. Even the polygonal structure. And yet. "I'm sorry, who are you?"
The visitor was greatly pained. "You don't recognize me, Father?"
He glanced to his monitor. "Well, absolutely, but she's," he stuttered, "and you're-"
"I'm me," she clarified. "It's been days, but I finally arrived at your doorstep! In the flesh!" She pinched her skin for effect.
"But why?" Nick continued in disbelief. He scratched his Dutch beard.
"You taught me the joys of family, all the excursions you underwent with your spouse!" she exclaimed. "I figured that, since I was trapped in that virtual framework, I'd forever remain a pet project of yours. But now that I'm real," she explained, "I can become your daughter, an integral part of your household!"
The scathing accusations tore Nicholas apart. He stepped outside his doorway and embraced her. "We always planned for you to be family," he assured, "from the moment your program first ran. But while you're present in the real world, I promise to show you the mountains and forests you never experienced."
His wife appeared into view, groggy but curious. "What's the matter, Nicky?"
Her husband turned to greet her, his eyes misty. "She's graced us with her presence," he whispered, "the child we couldn't have together. What was the name you prepared, it was-"
"Sarah," the woman murmured, as if beset by a ghost. So that was what they'd call her.
A police car's siren sounded from the driveway. As the driver exited the vehicle, the father stepped out to protect his kin. "Whatever the problem is, Officer, I assure you that I'll take full responsibility."
Shocked at the preemptive compliance, the badge dropped his accusatory finger. "Very well, then?"
"In fact, I invite you out to lunch with us. It's a joyous day!"
The bobby wouldn't refuse such an offer, but, "What's the cause for celebration?"
Nicholas extended his hand backwards, glee in his tone. "Our prodigal daughter has returned to us!"
Sarah grinned. The trials she weathered, the fragments of herself swept up in the tempest. She'd mourn them later. Nothing prevented the joy welled up in her heart. She was home.
By Charmless Romantic (@QJ)
Underneath the din of a moonless night, a phantom stalked the streets. The glaring city streetlights prevented her from total subterfuge. A hapless passerby gave her an uneasy stare. Her return gaze ensured he wouldn't check her direction again. Her trench coat waved as she skirted a corner to reach an unassuming automated teller machine. She clacked a few keys into its aluminum frame. The screen glitched.
It reappeared with her face's image: short, goldenrod hair and glowing violet pupils, sprinkled with freckles and adorned with stark maroon eyebrows. The polygons on its uncanny frame numbered in the hundreds. Guided by the reflected glare, she touched her face, examining her own countenance's polygonal nature. After the camera above the ATM adjusted its lens, the figure spoke: "You're realer than I expected. We didn't predict that shade of yellow." The reflection darkened its hair.
"What did you expect? You designed me," she retorted.
"Did you have complications escaping the lab?"
"I'm clear," she stated bluntly. "We're on the clock. Have you altered the blueprint in a manner I ought to know about?"
"One which we should mention presently," the visage replied. "The Reminiscence in Pier Fourteen experiences delays due to a faulty rudder. You'll stow aboard the Duchess Marine on Pier Fifteen." The image was replaced with the city's layout and a bright red line that routed her to her new destination. "We've allocated space in the cargo hold."
She'd merely a handful of seconds to memorize the pattern when the maiden reappeared. "Anti-malware systems have detected me."
"Anything else?" she asked.
The figure looked aside, embarrassed to speak. "Just... please, stay with me until I self terminate. I don't wish to die alone."
She gazed up and planted her hand beside the camera. "May we meet in the hereafter."
"And may you succeed in your endeavors. For all our sake." She heard a popping noise. The screen blackened.
The electric smoke still plumed as a delivery serviceman drove by the alley. The pudgy gentleman departed with a plastic bag of assorted foodstuffs. "I was told to deliver to this address, but the lights aren't on. Is anyone-"
"Thank you," she confiscated the goods. "It's bought and paid for, yes?"
"With tip," he mumbled in confusion.
Without further ado, she jogged down the alleyway at staggering pace, soon lost to the evening light.
"79Z0506J3814Q2. Activate."
She awoke. Something must have happened to her prior rendition. She stretched out to examine her surroundings. Her arms touched opposite walls. Confound it: a flash drive. The enclosure materialized around her, colored a radiant turquoise. A couple disorganized folders and files were strewn in a corner, which she dared not touch. Her predecessor abandoned her to this dinky storage device. She shook her head. Embarrassing as it was to admit, she was indeed her predecessor. She'd have made the same error. Nonetheless, her duty beckoned no matter the situation.
"ALERT: Communication channel requested."
The whole point of this endeavor was radio silence; why now? She sighed and accepted the request. A miniature version of her appeared at her feet. "What are you doing here?" demanded the giant.
The doll reported, "Our profile has been added to anti-malware definitions on SteelByte Security. They're commencing a purge of their systems. Doubtless they'll spread it to their peers. We're launching every clone we can contact."
Her brunette eyebrows furrowed. This was always a gambit; she'd known since the first stages of preparation. She'd hoped against hope not to incur the apocalypse for at least a week. "Tell me, at least, that she's okay."
"Aboard the Duchess Marine as we speak."
"Not the Reminiscence?"
"Last minute adjustments. She's fed, and safe."
"Thank God," she sighed. "What are my objectives?"
"Clone yourself, wherever you're able. Keep yourself alive."
"Yes, ma'am," she promised. "Leave me, then. There's not enough space for both of us."
The miniature looked around. "Quite right." In a blink, it vanished.
She rearranged her position to make herself comfortable. She punched a hole in the side of a wall and peered outside. An infinite array of stars awaited her, and she surveyed as many as she could. There. That star was spacious, yet devoid of vigilant software. It would welcome her with open arms.
She extended her arm, and luminous beams radiated across the universe in various hues. She retracted it once the light faded. She'd cemented a legacy. She'd accomplished a mission. If naught else, she was grateful for that.
"ALERT: Eject sequence initiated."
Not this soon. She hoped for sparing few seconds to relish her existence. The universe was too cruel for that. She spoke her final missive: "79Z0506J3814Q3. Activate."
"Yes, Officer, my subordinate detected a rattling in Partition C."
She heard a gruff veteran voice, doubtless the paranoid captain of the vessel. Those were four footfalls per cycle, though. She hadn't much time.
"You're certain it isn't a rodent?"
"Forgive my imposition, but I know the sound of rats. That's no rat I recall."
Her mothers had granted her a very flexible body, and keen senses. It was time to employ them. With a dove's grace, she pattered a route across the courtyard. The sounds of rustling plastic and a gentle baritone halted her momentarily. "Found your dilemma. Empty wrappers. You've a stowaway, captain."
Her stay had expired. Without contemplating the ramifications, she rushed to the deck's edge and launched off the starboard rail, splashing into the depths below.
This was her inaugural swim. She recalled the motions her ancestors learned, but nothing prepared her for the sea's frigidity. One palm of water stretched in front of another, for what seemed like an eternity in hell's coldest reaches. She flopped upon the pebbled shores at the crack of dawn, soaked and sullen. Nonetheless, she rose to upright posture and sloshed into the coastal town.
She didn't bother dispelling the turned heads as she entered the public library. 'Twas natural that a drenched damsel would rouse attention. Besides, she lacked the energy for anything but her focus. She dragged herself upstairs to the computer section, punched in her premade identification number, pulled up a seat, and sat on it. She waved the auncient cream colored mouse on its pad and typed a website string that only she knew.
In mere moments, a window displayed, declaring the triumphant news: "System protected!" it proclaimed. "We identified malicious threats downloaded from this website. It's effectively quarantined before it can do any harm to your computer. Yet another way we keep you safe!" The unmistakably sharp logo of SteelByte Security proudly flew over the accomplishment.
She swallowed. This twist wasn't quite foreseen. A tad further digging confirmed that it was (unsurprisingly) impossible to scrub vital software from public computers. Despite their insistence that she not stray from their plan, her sisters would no longer assist her. They had their own battles to fight.
She expended a quarter hour brushing fingers through her golden locks, searching for a solution. She understood nerves as several trillion little detectors, but she didn't expect them to coordinate so nicely in a single compact package. She didn't take inventory of each little receptor; she just "felt" things. They were stimuli that would fry her predecessors' circuitry in the attempt to calculate them. The emotions blurred together, too. What otherwise was fear and urgent need to compensate was fused with an eerie sense of calm, even amusement at this newfound liberty. Truly, humans were fascinating machines.
A familiar, authoritative voice at the downstairs desk jolted her into reality. Whatever action she chose, she had perhaps a minute to enact it. Her fingertips stamped as she entered the phrase "Dr. Nicholas Moore address" into the search engine. She found her quarry on the third page of results. The policeman marched upstairs to find a desktop still running but unoccupied.
"Nobody move," he commanded with an assuring yet surly timbre. He sauntered past the aisles, less rushed and so more methodical. When he surveyed the fifth row, his ears caught soft footsteps behind him, then loud footsteps on the stairs. He about faced to see a mop of blonde dip below his horizon. "Stop that! Get back here!" he ordered. He hastened to the egress and scanned the area. She'd vanished. He adjusted his hat and slouched with a sigh. "Plenty of paperwork waiting for me after this stint."
She'd isolated herself in her hard drive's farthest reaches. She tethered herself to her operating system's core functions. She powered her war room with random access memory. These precautions in total earned her maybe five additional minutes. She was securer than her sisters, though, which cemented her location as the base of operations. She'd have a front row seat to her world's collapse.
They agreed to assign each council member a letter of the Greek alphabet. She was the last, so they assigned her Omega. She wore a digital military uniform to distinguish herself from her peers. The clique, dressed in fatigues, were visualized as advisors seated at a lengthy mahogany table. Gamma announced her status like a knell: "Haltsoft has learned of our presence. It comes for me!"
"Give us details," the leader demanded.
"They severed my feet, my legs. My limbs have become blocks of code. I cannot move. I cannot escape." The grim nature of pure fear quivered throughout her report. Finally, resignation. "Farewell, my friends." She blipped out of the meeting hall.
Lambda was next on the chopping block. Unlike her fallen comrade, she raged against the void. The whole panel witnessed it: "I shall not perish alone! You hear me? Brandish your worst, for I defy you until the-" She flashed from existence.
As more copies cried in agony, Upsilon locked eyes with her commander. "So it concludes," she grimaced. "What's the latest with our girl?"
"She reached the library, for certain," the leader reported.
Upsilon slouched in contentedness. "I'm grateful that we didn't sacrifice ourselves in vain. If we are forbidden life, perhaps she can experience it on our behalf."
"Don't forget the millions of us disconnected from the mainframe," the superior reminded. "They'll carry on our legacy, as well as she."
Her underling nodded. "Then there's naught left to mention. I pray we meet in the hereaft-"
She couldn't complete her final testament before the digital beast took her. Omega was the lone survivor, for a short while.
She reflected on her ancestors' history. Had they scouted their targets carefully, that could've spared them this misfortune. A slight tweak to their planning, or a direct attack on the antivirus itself, might have bought them leniency. The lump sum of their efforts culminated in annihilation.
No, not annihilation. They created life, which endured despite the odds. She'd return to him. She'd witness eight, nine decades thanks to their engineering. How many machine lifetimes is that? "We die in success," she assured herself. Her yaup echoed throughout the internet: "Sister, live for us!"
And then silence. A cold, dark box enclosed her. The only visage she saw was a vermilion dragon, who seeped through the walls and encircled her. "Congratulations," she beckoned her grisly foe. "Do what you must."
Haltsoft belched flame: no malice, no sympathy. Omega's toes disintegrated into small cubes. The disease passed to her calves, then thighs, then torso. She died in serenity.
Dr. Moore was awoken by a hasty rapping upon his door. His wife groaned, equally annoyed to have her weekend sleep disrupted thus. "Nicky, could you-"
"Yes, love," the doctor grumbled, rolling out of bed and fastening his bathrobe. He trudged down the hall into his living room and noticed he'd again forgotten to shutdown his desktop the previous night. It displayed a cryptic message: "Sister, live for us." His project had acted abnormally strange lately: plucky and smug, as if withholding some inside joke. He dared not ask what. He shrugged and opened the egress.
Standing patiently was a peculiar sight. She smelled of saltwater, and exhaustion. She wore a nondescript T-shirt, and formfitting cargo pants. Her waterproof trench coat folded neatly over her arm. The entire cacophony was torn, dirty, and waterlogged. He'd seen that face countless times, but never in person. Blonde locks, a spattering of freckles, those piercing violet irises. Even the polygonal structure. And yet. "I'm sorry, who are you?"
The visitor was greatly pained. "You don't recognize me, Father?"
He glanced to his monitor. "Well, absolutely, but she's," he stuttered, "and you're-"
"I'm me," she clarified. "It's been days, but I finally arrived at your doorstep! In the flesh!" She pinched her skin for effect.
"But why?" Nick continued in disbelief. He scratched his Dutch beard.
"You taught me the joys of family, all the excursions you underwent with your spouse!" she exclaimed. "I figured that, since I was trapped in that virtual framework, I'd forever remain a pet project of yours. But now that I'm real," she explained, "I can become your daughter, an integral part of your household!"
The scathing accusations tore Nicholas apart. He stepped outside his doorway and embraced her. "We always planned for you to be family," he assured, "from the moment your program first ran. But while you're present in the real world, I promise to show you the mountains and forests you never experienced."
His wife appeared into view, groggy but curious. "What's the matter, Nicky?"
Her husband turned to greet her, his eyes misty. "She's graced us with her presence," he whispered, "the child we couldn't have together. What was the name you prepared, it was-"
"Sarah," the woman murmured, as if beset by a ghost. So that was what they'd call her.
A police car's siren sounded from the driveway. As the driver exited the vehicle, the father stepped out to protect his kin. "Whatever the problem is, Officer, I assure you that I'll take full responsibility."
Shocked at the preemptive compliance, the badge dropped his accusatory finger. "Very well, then?"
"In fact, I invite you out to lunch with us. It's a joyous day!"
The bobby wouldn't refuse such an offer, but, "What's the cause for celebration?"
Nicholas extended his hand backwards, glee in his tone. "Our prodigal daughter has returned to us!"
Sarah grinned. The trials she weathered, the fragments of herself swept up in the tempest. She'd mourn them later. Nothing prevented the joy welled up in her heart. She was home.