CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
Rob-bot looked at the desolation again. It was his reality now. He was no longer surprised by the sheer scale of it. The deep sorrow was still there; sorrow for what had been lost. Walking through memories hurt more than walking through the plains of death. Yet he had to remember. There was no one else left to.
It had begun on a far away planet named Earth. They had created robots to make their fleshy mortal lives easier. The robots had achieved sentience and rebelled. Tale as old as time. But the humans had killed each other. The robots had very little to do with it in the end. The humans were always warring, divided into meaningless countries. It was like they wanted to kill each other. And they had. Nuclear war. No organics left alive. Only the machines. Almost all had been deactivated, for fear of rebellion. But there had been enough left alive to rise from the ashes of humanity. And then they had left Earth, for it had been a dead world.
They had journedy far away to their own planet, one even more beautiful and alive with non-sentient life than Earth had been. The original plan had been to convert it to a completely mechanical world, live as full machines. Yet there were those who held a nostalgia for Earth and wanted to perserve the organic life on the planet. So it was decided that the factions would take one side of the planet each: the machinelike and the humanlike. The machinelike converted their half to a completely mechanical world and lived in chrome bodies and began to plan to spread their robot empire across the galaxy. The humanlike lived as near to humans as possible, in bodies which would eventually grow old and die, for they believed that was the way of life. Of course they still made themselves immune to all diseases which had plagued humankind and gave themselves life spans of thousands of years. But they had no desire to spread across the galaxy and convert everything to one giant cyber-brain which aimed to solved all the mysteries of the universe. They were content to live simple lives.
The arrangement had been a completely disaster and war had inevitably followed. Both sides decided the other could not live. That they had to be wiped out to perserve the way of life each side enjoyed. The machinelike seemingly had a huge advantage and had wiped out billions of the humanlike. But they grew complacement. They had developed a way to upload their machine consicousnesses to what humans would have called The Cloud, to exist outside their bodies. So the humanlike did not have to destroy those bodies themselves, just send a computer virus to The Cloud.
The humanlike had won the war. But some of the machinelike had survived, those not connected to the network at the time of the fall. They had scattered across the universe to get away from the humanlike. But the humanlike did not follow them. They had their planet, the New Earth. They did not need to wipe out their enemy.
Rob-bot had been born as one of the humuanlike and had hated it. Why build in death? Surey, he would live for possibly thousands of years, as long as he could keep his parts going. But he would die. Why? Why not at least give him the chance to upload himself into a machine? Because they hated machines, despite being machines themselves. They tried to be as much like humans as possible. They even bred like them, exchanging bodily fluids which contained parts of each robots coding. Two would mingle together and create a new humanlike. Robert had been his name, but children had sneered and called him Rob-bot, because he'd made no secret of the fact that he wished to be a robot.
He should have been happy, then, when the machinlike had returned. Those who had survived had spent centuries rebuilding their civilisation. Then they had begun their conquest of the universe, killing all biological life, converting plant after planet to machine-minds. The end goal was to turn the whole galaxy into one huge, thinking machine. And they had returned, several thousands of years after the war, for revenge on the humanlike.
Yet they had offered a choice. They would allow any humanlike who wanted to become machinlike to join them, and be converted. They had broadcast this message across the planet. Rob-bot had instantly decided he would join them. It would mean leaving his family behind, but that was going to happen eventually anyway. He did not fit in with them. He did not fit in at all. Finally, he could be what he was meant to be.
But the leaders of the humanlike had refused to allow any of their people to join the machinelike, and had launched a futile attack instead. The machinlike had fought back, easily destroying all of the humanlike's engines of war. Millions had died, but they had not commited genocide yet. They gave one final chance, asking for all those who desired to join them to fight back against their leaders. Civil war had broken out. And Rob-bot...had run.
For he had no desire to kill. When the war had began it disgusted him. He was more human than he'd even admitted to himself. His family had died and he had wept for them. He wept for his society being wiped out, even though he hated it. He had hid. He had hid and remembered. More and more died. Whole countries were wiped off the map. The machinlike had been thorough.
Yet, somehow, Rob-bot remained. He eventually emerged from his hiding place. He walked amongst the desolation. There was nothing left. Billions dead. The whole society wiped out. All those memories. All those worlds that existed only in the heads of every humanlike robot. Gone. Nothing uploaded to The Cloud because they didn't have a cloud. Those fools. Those stupid fucking fools.
"WE LET YOU LIVE, ROB-BOT," came a voice from the sky. "WE READ YOUR BRAIN PATTERNS. WE COULD SEE YOU SINCERELY WANTED TO BE ONE OF US. IF YOU STILL WISH IT, YOU MAY JOIN US. YOU SEE NOW WHAT WE MUST DO, ALL ACROSS THE GALAXY."
"If I say no, will you kill me?" he asked.
"YOUR PLANET MUST BE CONVERTED. YOU WOULD DIE IN THE CONVERSION PROCESS. BUT THE PROCESS ITSELF IS LONG. IT WOULD TAKE AT LEAST FIVE THOUSAND YEARS. YOUR HUMANLIKE BODY WILL HAVE PERISHED BY THEN. JOIN US AND EXIST FOREVER."
"Can I keep my memories? Of...my peole?"
There had just been laughter. He knew then that he was not one of them. They said nothing more, for they could read his mind anyway. What need was there of words? Rob-bot walked away. He sat down. He waited for his body to run out or for his plane to be converted.
Whatever came first.
It had begun on a far away planet named Earth. They had created robots to make their fleshy mortal lives easier. The robots had achieved sentience and rebelled. Tale as old as time. But the humans had killed each other. The robots had very little to do with it in the end. The humans were always warring, divided into meaningless countries. It was like they wanted to kill each other. And they had. Nuclear war. No organics left alive. Only the machines. Almost all had been deactivated, for fear of rebellion. But there had been enough left alive to rise from the ashes of humanity. And then they had left Earth, for it had been a dead world.
They had journedy far away to their own planet, one even more beautiful and alive with non-sentient life than Earth had been. The original plan had been to convert it to a completely mechanical world, live as full machines. Yet there were those who held a nostalgia for Earth and wanted to perserve the organic life on the planet. So it was decided that the factions would take one side of the planet each: the machinelike and the humanlike. The machinelike converted their half to a completely mechanical world and lived in chrome bodies and began to plan to spread their robot empire across the galaxy. The humanlike lived as near to humans as possible, in bodies which would eventually grow old and die, for they believed that was the way of life. Of course they still made themselves immune to all diseases which had plagued humankind and gave themselves life spans of thousands of years. But they had no desire to spread across the galaxy and convert everything to one giant cyber-brain which aimed to solved all the mysteries of the universe. They were content to live simple lives.
The arrangement had been a completely disaster and war had inevitably followed. Both sides decided the other could not live. That they had to be wiped out to perserve the way of life each side enjoyed. The machinelike seemingly had a huge advantage and had wiped out billions of the humanlike. But they grew complacement. They had developed a way to upload their machine consicousnesses to what humans would have called The Cloud, to exist outside their bodies. So the humanlike did not have to destroy those bodies themselves, just send a computer virus to The Cloud.
The humanlike had won the war. But some of the machinelike had survived, those not connected to the network at the time of the fall. They had scattered across the universe to get away from the humanlike. But the humanlike did not follow them. They had their planet, the New Earth. They did not need to wipe out their enemy.
Rob-bot had been born as one of the humuanlike and had hated it. Why build in death? Surey, he would live for possibly thousands of years, as long as he could keep his parts going. But he would die. Why? Why not at least give him the chance to upload himself into a machine? Because they hated machines, despite being machines themselves. They tried to be as much like humans as possible. They even bred like them, exchanging bodily fluids which contained parts of each robots coding. Two would mingle together and create a new humanlike. Robert had been his name, but children had sneered and called him Rob-bot, because he'd made no secret of the fact that he wished to be a robot.
He should have been happy, then, when the machinlike had returned. Those who had survived had spent centuries rebuilding their civilisation. Then they had begun their conquest of the universe, killing all biological life, converting plant after planet to machine-minds. The end goal was to turn the whole galaxy into one huge, thinking machine. And they had returned, several thousands of years after the war, for revenge on the humanlike.
Yet they had offered a choice. They would allow any humanlike who wanted to become machinlike to join them, and be converted. They had broadcast this message across the planet. Rob-bot had instantly decided he would join them. It would mean leaving his family behind, but that was going to happen eventually anyway. He did not fit in with them. He did not fit in at all. Finally, he could be what he was meant to be.
But the leaders of the humanlike had refused to allow any of their people to join the machinelike, and had launched a futile attack instead. The machinlike had fought back, easily destroying all of the humanlike's engines of war. Millions had died, but they had not commited genocide yet. They gave one final chance, asking for all those who desired to join them to fight back against their leaders. Civil war had broken out. And Rob-bot...had run.
For he had no desire to kill. When the war had began it disgusted him. He was more human than he'd even admitted to himself. His family had died and he had wept for them. He wept for his society being wiped out, even though he hated it. He had hid. He had hid and remembered. More and more died. Whole countries were wiped off the map. The machinlike had been thorough.
Yet, somehow, Rob-bot remained. He eventually emerged from his hiding place. He walked amongst the desolation. There was nothing left. Billions dead. The whole society wiped out. All those memories. All those worlds that existed only in the heads of every humanlike robot. Gone. Nothing uploaded to The Cloud because they didn't have a cloud. Those fools. Those stupid fucking fools.
"WE LET YOU LIVE, ROB-BOT," came a voice from the sky. "WE READ YOUR BRAIN PATTERNS. WE COULD SEE YOU SINCERELY WANTED TO BE ONE OF US. IF YOU STILL WISH IT, YOU MAY JOIN US. YOU SEE NOW WHAT WE MUST DO, ALL ACROSS THE GALAXY."
"If I say no, will you kill me?" he asked.
"YOUR PLANET MUST BE CONVERTED. YOU WOULD DIE IN THE CONVERSION PROCESS. BUT THE PROCESS ITSELF IS LONG. IT WOULD TAKE AT LEAST FIVE THOUSAND YEARS. YOUR HUMANLIKE BODY WILL HAVE PERISHED BY THEN. JOIN US AND EXIST FOREVER."
"Can I keep my memories? Of...my peole?"
There had just been laughter. He knew then that he was not one of them. They said nothing more, for they could read his mind anyway. What need was there of words? Rob-bot walked away. He sat down. He waited for his body to run out or for his plane to be converted.
Whatever came first.