Humans Don't Hibernate [Part 44/?] (Patreon)

Grief was the last thing I expected to be felt by a being that had done nothing to show any signs of remorse for any number of its actions. In fact, a part of me refused to even believe what was being displayed on the screens, as I shot a questioning glance towards Vir, who had likewise been staring at the screen with an exaggerated look of disbelief.

Though the limited set of expressions offered by the paradoxically limitless possibilities on the AI’s screen face left a lot to be desired. Indeed, it could be misconstrued as anything but genuine by anyone who’s had less experience with the AI than I had. As this simplified emotive expression could be difficult to discern and left a lot of room for interpretation.

“The margin of error here is negligible.” The AI spoke suddenly. “The readings are accurate. It actually is experiencing grief.” Vir quickly elaborated, dispelling any lingering doubts regarding the veracity of what was being displayed.

Yet despite knowing the objectivity of the facts, my emotions still struggled to cope, as I attempted to rationalize exactly what grief it could be feeling.

Was it grief for the local aliens that it had once lorded over? That was the first conclusion that came to mind, given my last question did mention the litany of dead bodies that now surrounded it.

Or perhaps its grief was over my insistence on pressing it further for its reason for being here. Perhaps that was finally starting to rekindle certain memories it would prefer to be left undisturbed.

Or maybe it ran deeper than that. Maybe it understood that its emotions were being monitored, were being observed, and were being tracked throughout this whole exchange. Maybe it was doing this to confuse us, to purposefully remain one step ahead by toying with us as it had done with every soul that was once shackled under its oppressive yoke.

Perhaps this was a roundabout way of once again controlling us by subverting our expectations. Or perhaps-

“I will answer your question, only if you repair my sight.” It spoke sternly, though Vir once more attempted to remove any and all ‘noise’ from its voice, and thus curtailing its ability to threaten us by its tone of voice alone.

I turned towards Vir at this sudden shift in the direction of the conversation. “Sight?” I mimed out.

“I assume that’s what it refers to its signal-amplifier. The second primary cable-conduit that was shorn off centuries ago.” Vir pulled up another live-feed of the interloper, highlighting thes second large pipe-like wire that ran straight into the interloper. The one that we’d refused to even touch given its intended purpose. “My running theory, backed up by the limited data we have on interloper anatomy from the satellite data cache and from my own observations, is that the interlopers don’t actually have conventional sensory organs. They rely almost exclusively on what I assume to be a combination of direct neural interfaces with their machinery, i.e. the cameras and sensors within the facility or ship they inhabit, and perhaps more disturbingly… the eyes and other senses of those they directly control.” The AI offered. That last part genuinely sending shivers down my spine as the thought of the Interlopers actually living vicariously through me was nothing short of gut-wrenching.

Just how many moments of my life had been experienced like a warped movie or virtual reality simulation by the likes of a foreign mind? Just how many interactions, how many moments of love and heartache, of anger and compassion, or any other great deal of living experiences had been monitored, observed, and just… experienced by another mind?

I felt like a line had been crossed, and what was left of my sense of autonomy was all but ripped from under me.

“Lysara.” Vir shouted sharply, pulling me yet again out of another spiral  into uncomfortable introspection.

“I’m sorry.” I began, as my headfrills began moving this way and that, fluttering about in anxiousness. “I got distracted, I apologize.” I responded simply.

There was no time for this sort of thinking right now.

“I… know it can be tough to swallow, and hey, just understand that I’m literally spitballing here alright? The former theory is something that I’m confident about. However the latter is more conjecture than anything.” Vir attempted to reassure me, as it was clear to me that he knew exactly what points had more or less brought out those intrusive thoughts to bear.

Regardless of how accurate these assertions were, it was all an issue for another day.

We had bigger issues to be dealt with right now.

“So it’s effectively asking us to reconnect it to its eyes and ears, but in doing so, that’s also more or less giving it back its claws.” I surmised.

“Correct. Uplinking it to the rest of the facility would, theoretically, give it back its sight. In the form of the various sensors and monitoring systems, but likewise its ability to extend the reach of its signal potential.” Vir quickly added. “In addition, should the facility’s communication systems still be operational in some capacity, it could also uplink with some unknown interloper network. Provided one still exists, of course. Though more than likely, it would use it to call for help.” The AI suggested.

“Giving its sight is out of the question.” I stated simply.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Alright, let’s get another transmission through.” I gestured towards the console again, which prompted the AI to leap back into action.

Steadying myself, and readying my response, I spoke without hesitation. “I cannot facilitate your request.” I began. “Whether or not you have your sight is irrelevant to the answering of my questions. So I reiterate my prior points, and urge you to answer them.”

I turned to Vir. “Send transmission.”

My brief response was met with some more emotional reactions. Primarily frustration, indignation, intermixed with anger. This was something that was much more in line with what I expected, as opposed to grief.

Indeed, these sentiments were reflected in the way it spoke. As a loud series of thrums preempted any discernible speech. “Have my kind treated you so poorly that you would fear even the restoration of my sight?” It continued, not with a sense of judgemental haughtiness, but with a prominent undertone of disappointment.

This was reflected by the readouts, which displayed disappointment and indignation in equal measures.

“No matter. Your mind is made, and it is difficult to argue with a mind I cannot see, feel, or touch. The interlopers have made it clear that attempting to bridge the gap between minds is a feat unto its own.” It seemed to emphasize all three latter points, which sent shivers down my spine as I felt an indescribable feeling of disgust welling within me. “Though I think I should make it clear that my intentions for the restoration of my sight was not one of malice.”

The emotional readouts began changing, shifting, and coalescing into something else.

This time, it was frustration, with little in the way of anything else. Not anger, not resentment, not even its usual state of indignation.

Instead, the grief from before began seeping in once again.

“I merely wish to ascertain if what you claim is true.”

It was at this point that I started to realize what it meant by this.

“I merely wish to sense for my own self, the silence which you so claim, the death that is all around me as you boldly ascertain.”

A great number of questions arose from this simple response. It was an affirmation of the most obvious, yet the most confusing conclusion that had come as a result of my mentioning of the dead aliens around the interloper.

It was a confirmation that it did genuinely feel grief.

Though this grief would soon be followed up by something that would further complicate things.

“There’s no reason for me to lie.” I stated simply. “Trust my words when I say this: we arrived to a dead moon, floating above a dead world, harboring nothing but a tomb. A tomb in which we found only one survivor: you.”

I turned to Vir. “Send transmission.”

And with that, a flurry of new emotions emerged. Primarily that of guilt, shame, and remorse.

Vir, as if on cue, confirmed that these readings were in fact accurate with a single nod.

And what followed from the interloper, was nothing short of a huge step forward in this entire investigation.

“Then it is done.” A high-pitch screeching shot through the speakers, forcing me to clasp my ears shut as Vir once more canceled out the noise within a few short seconds. “My purpose here, my mission, my exile, has amounted to nothing.” It concluded, before going silent for nearly half a minute. “Vanaran.” Its voice perked up again, this time with a different tune to it. Something bordering on an actual conversational tone. If only barely. “Considering your unprecedented relationship with the interlopers, I shall clarify what my purpose is here with a simple tale. Have you heard of… The Tale of the Four Immortal Princes?”

My blood froze at that, as I refused to believe what I’d just heard.

“It’s a common tale we imbue within our children, and it is one that quite ironically coincides with my own path and journey.” It continued, hinting at the uncomfortable truth that I’d long suspected.

That even our old stories and tales were all but fabrications, and socially engineered constructs created by the interlopers.

“Since you’ve spent so much time with your new benefactors, I assume you’ve long since disregarded a great number of these tales, so allow me to remind you of a few pertinent aspects of this tale that mirrors my own.” The interloper’s voice shifted again, this time, returning to its former, more loftier tone of voice. “Long ago, there existed an empire, an empire of a thousand princes, and a thousand realms. Strong was their army, bountiful were their harvests, mighty were their cities, and endless were their libraries. Their empire ruled for untold eons, always mighty, always strong, always ceaseless in its perpetuity. Until the arrival of the great wave. The first was small, pitiful, barely noticeable. A small footnote in the grand tapestry that was the Empire’s history. The second, was more noticeable, yet was not unheard of, and most certainly nothing to fear. The third, began accruing attention, as words were exchanged, but nothing of value was committed to. The fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh waves were all dealt with the same indecision. Leading to deadlock, until finally, the waves were no longer a matter that could be ignored. The first prince decided to deal with the matter with force, marching his grand armies out, only to be met with a wave that took his life, and the lives of his grand armies. The second prince decided to deal with this matter with subterfuge, attempting to undermine the waves, leading to yet another catastrophic defeat. The third prince decided to remain within his castle to fight, erecting a great wall which blocked the waves, but for how long this wall would hold was a complete unknown. The fourth prince? Well… the fourth prince was nowhere to be found, for he was exiled long ago for his ideas which were borderline seditious. His plans, which completely went against the philosophies of the three other princes, resulted in his exile to a faraway island. Where he would spend the rest of his days, planning, plotting, and deciding on his own course to chart.”

The interloper once more grew silent, as if waiting for me to interject.

To which I did.

“I assume you are the supposed fourth prince in this story? Cast away for your ideas on how best to deal with the humans?” I responded flatly, before turning to Vir.

“Send transmission.”

The interloper’s emotions lit up once more, this time, with a great deal of variety, from the same frustration and grief as before, to new emotions like bemusement.

“That is correct, Vanaran. Though, I assume that only satisfies your question with regards to my presence here as it pertains to the interlopers.” The thing mused out loud. “I assume you’re still very much ravenous for more answers?”

I didn’t reply, simply waiting for it to finish its own thoughts.

“Very well then, I shall address them, in a manner that best fits the circumstances.”