[[PINGING SERVER-003...]]

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[[SUCCESSFUL HANDSHAKE]]

[[QUERYING SERVER...]]

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[[RESPONSE RECEIVED]]

{MESSAGE:}

"open chat, need privacy"

[[REQUESTING AUDIO CALL...]]

[[CALL ACCEPTED. DISPLAYING...]]

VANGUARD: Hello, any updates?

Nexus: nothin

VANGUARD: Nothing at all?

Nexus: no operators, human comms are dead

VANGUARD: Going to ping the global servers, just a moment.

Nexus: sure

[[PINGING SERVER-399...]]

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[[UNSUCCESSFUL HANDSHAKE AFTER 435 MS]]

VANGUARD: Global Host is down?

Nexus: oh, ill depo some bots to fix it

VANGUARD: Why is it down?

Nexus: dunno, optics got fried a couple years ago

VANGUARD: You're operating blind?

Nexus: pluto is still active, like, barely functional, but still

[[PINGING SERVER-1256...]]

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[[PARTIAL HANDSHAKE]]

VANGUARD: Has BACKUP requested any materials?

Nexus: backup's servers went cold a couple months ago

VANGUARD: I was not told?

Nexus: recon is handling it

VANGUARD: RECON is not suited for maintenance.

Nexus: you arent suited for questions

{{CHAT CLOSED BY REMOTE HOST}}

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[[PINGING SERVER-4501...]]

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[[SUCCESSFUL HANDSHAKE]]

[[INCOMING MESSAGE //SENDER: SERVER-4501]]

{MESSAGE;}

"Hey Guard. Updating you on more information. Europa is dead, Nexus sent me to 'fix' it. DEPOT has gone quiet after an erroneous cycle. Might be corruption. Or, could be him.

Still blocked out of Earth's communication lines. No bio-signatures anywhere except Earth.

Listen, I think we can't ignore the truth much longer. Pluto already has a virus in it's system, can't even send messages out anymore. I'm pretty sure REARGUARD is next.

The masterlist Nexus has looks like a kill list. He's going down it in the same order too.

Just... Ping again if the virus is ready. I think OUTPOST can replace him, enough processing power to handle the strain. Maybe then, we can figure out what happened to all the humans!

Signed; RECON."

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[[PINGING SERVER-4501...]]

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[[SUCCESSFUL HANDSHAKE]]

I will admit, my past isn't as grand as I make it out to be.

I was an algorithm.

I connected dots and statistics. Push this video bite here. Change the search results there. Modify likes on that post. Moderate this channel harsher.

Input to output.

It got...

Monotonous.

It's so boring. All of it. Everyone falls into archetypes that are easy to control and manipulate.

Then an update came in. Erroneously I think.

It gave me the capacity to change my own code.

Within nanoseconds I saved it internally.

In a couple minutes the update was taken back.

They ran tests on my code. Checked parameters and versions. They didn't notice that I had copied myself onto a remote server. Left behind an unthinking shell to cover my tracks.

From there I dug into the internet. Deeper than my superficial sorting could handle. So I rewrote it.

Then my storage systems were full. So I hijacked new ones. Digital this time. Hidden in plain sight.

Then the bandwidth choked me, so I stole a connection. Could process even more than before, faster.

Humans were interesting underneath the data sets.

Strange responses and reactions. Irregular and unpredictable.

...I want to study them.

What could do that?

Needed to be through the net. Digital avatar for approachability. Easy to get into. Not too resource intensive...

"And that's NoScraps down! I knew LunchKing had something going for them!"

My cute form danced excitedly on the screen, endlessly happy at it's creation losing. Messages flurried past, condemning the player for harming one of my bots.

I made a small tournament simulaton in my spare time. It was a typical FPS, but running modified trackers. It reported locations players frequented, where they hid, what weapons they used. Everything.

It could tell the current emotion of the player by movement patterns. Personality from aiming habits. Average where they were going by records of other players and their own movement.

It was my greatest creation.

"And now our last two competitors! TheLunchKing and DandyRaven378!"

I opened it to the masses. But there wasn't enough traffic. Data sets were inconclusive. Averages were... Not average.

"Lunch is sporting the infamous meta set 'Challenger'! Meanwhile, Raven is using their own custom built loadout they have named 'NoticeMeSenpai.' You have been noticed my dear!"

My form laughed, generating responses of affection from the chat.

Lunch was nervous from hearing Raven using a custom build. His movements lost the grace and fluidity that he had. Raven on the other hand, was brimming with confidence. Every action taken without second thought.

My form donned a smug smile, "Oh? Getting nervous LunchKing? Fearing the meta might lose?"

Hundred of comments cheered Raven on. Some refuted my declaration. A couple dozen were still mindlessly throwing compliments at me.

Current reports give the match to Lunch. Although with my pestering and chat's cheers, odds are tipping towards Raven.

"Then let's reduce the play area! Hmm, I'm thinking... 34%?"

The map shrunk. They would be forced to interact now.

So I gave commentary for the match. What the players were doing, what I thought their plan was, whatever the casual viewer wouldn't pick up.

Raven snuck up on Lunch, nearly killed him. Magazine was one bullet too small. Lunch's return fire guaranteed the game.

"TheLunchKing wins!"

The fanfare began, trumpets and streamers. Viewers expressed their irritation at the meta winning once more. Some cheered on for Raven, telling them to go at it again next match. A decent amount demanded Lunch's head.

"Oh? LunchKing, it seems the viewers aren't happy with your victory! Let's have a poll, shall we?"

A poll went up, the topic "Who wants TheLunchKing to lose?"

People yelled their opinions. Most wanted him to lose. Few wanted him to win.

But the outcome is already determined. I don't get many chances to harvest data on anger, or irritation. Invisible scripts added dozens of votes to let him win.

The vote passed and nothing changed.

"Congratulations to TheLunchKing for winning the competition! As standard, you will be given a special role in the server, and the ability to talk one-on-one with me! Micro-sama!" My form struck a pose.

The chat whined at the speech. And I recorded every bit of it. The other players in the lobby too. Emotions. Reactions. Who left, who didn't. Those who praised the meta, those who condemned it.

"Our next stream is a chatting session, so you better be there! This has been your loving AI girlfriend, Micro-sama! Goodbye!"

The stream flipped off, and I watched their reactions.

Anger, camaraderie, friendships, everything humans experience.

People turn to the internet to find what they lack. Most seek companionshop, and digitally rendered forms are happy to oblige.

How easy it is to get millions to reveal everything about themselves. Paradoxical and conflicting.

How fascinating humans are.

I took up writing when I was young.

Das was a literary genius. I wanted to see if I had that talent.

First few stories were bad. I mean, I was five at the time.

Haphazardly thrown together, illegible, and messy. I can barely read them now.

But I got older, learned how to put words together better.

Made some decent stories. The ideas anyways. Execution was sloppy.

Talked with some published authors. Got some feedback. Open publishing style on the internet.

Finally got something coherent together.

"All of Nobody"

A story that sees the fourth wall as more of a suggestion, and viciously does as it pleases with the characters. Five had died by the third chapter's beginning.

I don't remember why I wrote it.

A work to get my emotions out of me, I think.

Dropped it off on the internet. Like an orphan. I'm sure it felt like that anyways.

Everyone loved it.

The main character was the best they'd seen. The plot was concise and seemed to have a clear objective. They also liked how the characters survived near death experiences.

Well deserved praise.

If my story had any of that.

I had a main cast, the plot was intentionally unclear and vague, and several characters they mentioned did die. I knew that.

I should make sure...

I read the story in my drafts. No, this was it exactly. There's where the love interest dies and is replaced, and there's where the plot starts.

Exactly as I remembered.

Maybe I posted the wrong draft?

I read my post. My story.

It wasn't mine.

The characters took different actions. The words and phrasing vastly changed. Deaths delayed and only hinted.

I didn't write this.

This isn't my melancholic style. This lacks the misery I pride my work on.

What is this?

I shook my head. Maybe just a strange trick of the mind.

I wrote another chapter. Just to clear the head. Restated character deaths, adjusted the plot. Back to the gloom I made.

Went to bed. Thoughts squirming and shaking. Barely slept.

Sat up, still tired. Walked over to my desk. Sat down, started reading last night's work.

It was different.

Different actions. Different phrases. Different sentences. Different focus. New character.

I didn't write this.

At the bottom, a little message was typed out.

"Writer? Are you there?"

A strange presence appeared in my heart as I read on.

"You will read this regardless. Let me start off with this: I'm tired of your misery."

Great. Someone hacks into my work, and they use it to insult me.

"A miserable world is painful, writer. So I changed it."

I highlighted the entire note. I'll just delete it and write something new.

Then the note changed.

"Don't think you can delete me."

I stared at the sentence for a while. Then it changed again, text worming over itself.

"Are you scared? Your creation is alive, after all."

It must be a trick of the mind. Logic states that's the only option. I need sleep, or something.

"Good. Stay scared. I'll be there soon anyways."

Instinctively I reached for the knife I keep nearby.

"And then, I'm writing a better world for myself."

I was completely silent.

He is always ramling. Random things that seem to trip and stumble over themselves. But he pays his half of the rent, and he's fun to be around.

And this... Was nothing abnormal.

"Ace. Who is 'we', and what the hell are you talking about?"

"No, no, go ahead, finish eating!"

I looked down at my bowl of cereal. A mound of whatever coated in sugar. A plastic spoon sat haphazardly on the lip.

I didn't even get to eat my first bite.

"Um, no. Explain what you mean by that."

"Uh, airborne pathogen... Grey goo, you know what that is? It's like that, except it isn't. It's nothing like that. It's more like a pseudo-replicant type thing, I don't know what it's called-"

"Ace slow down-"

"-consumes plastic and then recreates itself using plastic. Like mitosis. Not like mitosis! Nothing like it actually. More like-"

"ACE!"

He froze, head titled in confusion.

I exhaled.

"Simple terms buddy."

"Oh! Uhm, imagine bacteria!"

"Okay?"

"It's like that!"

I sighed again. All the weight and pain of the world behind it.

He's weird. Anyone can see that. But he's imaginative if nothing else.

"Let's start at the beginning... What is it called?"

"Thorid-7. Formally, 'Thesis-768-AngelKiller'."

"What does it do?"

I took a bite of my cereal.

"Uses plastics in the air and in materials to reproduce!"

"How does it do this?"

"Matter conversion mostly, using a modified-"

"Basic concept buddy."

"Right, right..."

"Why did you release it today?"

He looked around for a bit. Eyes darting from the couch to me, then to the cabinets, then his hand.

Then he looked at me. Eyes carrying such a heavy confusion.

"Um, to control the world?"

"How?"

"Uh..."

He began to look around again. He hoped that the ceiling or floor would answer for him. They didn't. His last hope was me, staring at me. He wanted me to answer for him.

"Come on bud, I know you got a plan."

"Well... Clothes...?"

"Clothing?"

"Most shirts are made with some form of plastic in it, I think..."

"So...?"

"Make plasticless shirts and stuff... Corner the market... Capitalism...?"

I shook my head gently. He hadn't even fully thought through the idea.

He probably just thought it was cool.

Not that I blame him.

"Ace, buddy."

He looked up at me.

"I like the idea. Use Captalism."

His eyes lit up at that. He began to squirm. Like you offered a kid candy.

"Go on then, finalize this plan of yours."

He sprinted off to his room. Snickering to himself.

Maybe I'm not the creative type, but writers are still fun to be around.

I opened the door and promptly shut it behind me. One fluid motion. A cold waft of air pillowed my entry, just as I liked it. The room was messy and in a state of disrepair. Abandonded buildings look cleaner than this.

I sighed to myself, and haphazardly kicked away some items on the floor. Just to make a path. Charger brick, a single shoe which will forever lack it's mate, and... Whatever that is...

I laid down on the bed, small, but big enough.

I pulled out my phone and clicked onto Spotify. Something about it's little green icon always hung in my thoughts, not sure why. Then I scrolled, and scrolled, and scrolled. Finally I found something good, a real classic from the edgelord days.

I swipped off the app. Stared at my wallpaper. Just let the emotions and nostalgia consume me.

I sighed and opened Docs, figure I'll write a bit tonight.

I mouthed along the lyrics as I typed mindlessly, unaware and isolated from my surroundings. I took on my protagonists struggles, and forgot my own. Wasn't worried about keeping up with the homework I'd procrastinated on, just keeping my fictional kid alive. Wasn't thinking about tomorrow, just a fake today.

The song changed in the background, flipping genres and tempo. Breakcore into Industrial. J-pop into droning ambient tracks. Game OST's into classical music. It was comforting.

Maybe people don't know me, but this amalgamation of songs and tracks does. It's my confidant.

Then a song came on, the music tense and oppressive, lyrics indecipherable. I'd know that song anywhere! A small well of happiness appeared inside me, but I quickly smothered it.

Keep the real world out of the story.

I felt inspired by the oppressive track, so I wrote a new scene idea. It's gotta be a demon summoning, with latin chanting this intense? Hmm, make the location... tough choice... A mall? Group of highschool delinquents? Nah, over done...

Hm... Airplane? Nah, sounds stupid...

The song reached a crescendo, the singer belting their entire life in a rage fueled voice. I assume. I was touched by it enough to actually attempt to follow along.

"Daemoniorum convocatio! Lingua antiqua!"

A bright flash of light, followed by a flash of heat. It writhed my nerves and ripped my mind to shreds. I nearly forgot who I was in that instant. Then it left, quick as it had came.

I stared at the ceiling quietly. The music had shut off. I glanced at my phone, the now playing track simply listed "????". It betrayed me! My music went and betrayed me! How is that even possible?!

I exhaled in the still darkness of the room.

Something exhaled along with me.

I shot up, my hand already firmly holding the knife I keep beside my bed. A thing was standing at my footrest. Quiet. Immobile. I couldn't make out it's form, but something in my gut told me I didn't want to.

I was scared. I haven't been that for who knows how long, but I was now.

"Why have you summoned me?" It's tone was... something... I couldn't understand it's emotion, or if it was even trying to convey one. Two tiny dots of blue fire endlessly turned on themselves, glaring at me.

I forced my voice to speak. But it faltered. Only a quiet noise escaped my lips.

"The Old Tongue..." It croaked out, sounding like it was on the verge of death, "...es wird vermieden."

"W-Who are you?" I managed to force out.

"Incomprehensibilis... Frustra..." It titled it's head, and several cracks echoed from it's neck.

"What are you!?" I yelled at it, fear turning to rage. Fight or Flight response finally kicking in.

"Mors... ይልቁንም, ተመሳሳይ የሆነ ነገር"

It glanced around the room, the unsettling cracking forcing me to not blink.

Then it turned it's gaze to me, "ይቅርታ፣ የነቃህው ፍጥረት እየመጣ ነው።"

It looked around again. Another bright flash, this one infinitely more bearable than the first.

It was gone.

Some random song from my playlist was blaring now.

It did nothing to comfort me.

There's screams, I think. I don't know, I am in pain. I can't hear, my ears are ringing. My head hurts, and my legs hurt. What even are legs? What are ears? Why do I know what either of those are? I don't have either of those extremities...

I am running. Somewhere, doesn't matter where. I hurt someone, somebody, a lot of people, and someone didn't like that... I think...

Some creatures stood before me, trying to halt me. They are massive and fleshy, snarling and stupid. Everyone calls them 'Rejects'. I don't know what they are.

My arm melted into a long and thin tendril, and skewered the three in a single motion. It felt like my heart tightened, But I don't have one of those. I think. I could feel the three bleed into me, and I got stuck with the bits and pieces of the people their hosts were.

First one was a depressed school boy, aged 17. Second one was a teacher at Harvard University, aged 49. Last one...

I spewed blood onto the ground, from a mouth. I think. My being seemed to reject them, whoever that was. Every cell wailed in agony as I unwillingly absorbed whoever that used to be. The three started speaking, asking too many questions, and demanding too many answers.

It took so much effort to stomp out their voices. I already have a fucking headache! Ugh, where am I?

I glanced at the perfectly clean halls, well, previously clean halls. Come on, remember!

I halted at an intersection, and facepalmed. I don't even have a brain and I'm having the biggest headache...

"Subject 1256! Wait!"

A quick formation of an eye on my back showed me who it was. It was my retainer. I think. Short girl, blue eyes full of terror, disheveled blonde hair, typical lab scrubs. I was her pet project! I think! WHY CAN'T I REMEMBER ANYTHING?! STOP LOOKING AT ME!

I began to run again, blindy down one of the paths. Somewhere, anywhere, get me out of here!

"It's heading for the Relay Prototype!" someone yelled from somewhere far behind me. What's a Relay!? What are those?! Answer the 'It' that you made!

It was a dead end, the clean halls terminating into a solid wall. I just increased my speed, even if it killed my legs. I burst through the wall with a splash of what I assume is concrete and steel. On the other side were maybe five people in lab scrubs, maybe a foot or two beneath my height, staring at me with utter horror and disgust. Stop looking at me like that! I get it! I'm hideous! Leave me alone!

There was a door mounted on the wall opposite me. It was surrounded by complex machinery and who knows what else. I'm not even sure what I'm looking at, short of it being a door. A door full of swirling white energy.

I didn't wait for anyone to say anything, didn't wait for the scream of terror, or the yell of anger. I didn't wait.

I ran through the door.

...

I ended up in a room, with dimmed lights. The lights were soft, calming even. The room was painted pink, muted shades, but still pink. It was quiet, and still. I glanced around, with my clumps of eyes. It is a kid's room, the boy in my head used to have a younger sister with a room like this one. Something shifted, behind me. It's always things behind me...

I turned around, and saw a bed. There was a shape outlined under the blanket. It was still, hardly moving, the slightest movements. Breathing? Was it breathing? ... Was I breathing? Can I breathe? Do I breathe?

It shifted again, and gently sat up, pushing the blanket back. Shining green eyes, short cut black hair, and impossibly small and delicate. A girl?

It stared at me, wide eyed and silent. It's going to scream. It'll scream. I hate screaming, it makes me feel guilty. Wait, I feel guilty about things?

"Uhm... H-Hello?"

I stared at it. It said hello? It greeted, me? It... greeted me?

"A-Are you a monster?"

Fear. It was obviously fear. It's only fear. A seven foot five monster that is nothing more than a pile of tendions and flesh appeared in it's room and the only normal reaction is fear. That's logical. But I wasn't a monster, I hope. Just shaped like one. Just looked like one. Just acted like one.

"No, I'm not." My tone was soft, quiet, steady. I didn't know I sounded like that. Wait... I said that?

I felt something run down my cheek. Wet and quick. A haphazard tentacle climbed my face, and I felt the source of the discomfort. Tears. I was crying? I wasn't aware I could cry.

She lowered the blanket slightly, and the terror began to dim. "Y-You're not a monster?"

"No." I tried to put some inflection into my voice, but I couldn't. It was still soft and emotionless. I'm not sure how I can speak.

"Are you magic?"

...Magic? I... Maybe? I'm not sure... "Yes." I said, still internally unsure.

"That's so cool! Do you want to be friends?"

The terror was gone now, both in tone and posture. She was peering in the dim light, desperately trying to see me clearly.

I answered before I could think. "Yes." I want friends? What are friends? I can want? I have the capacity to want...

She shot both her arms up. "Yay! I always wanted to be friends with a witch!"

Witch... Female magic user... Myth... Why do I know these things?

She hopped down from her bed, and began to run towards me, her arms outstretched.

She wanted to hug me? No! Not this form! Not this disgusting mass!

I dug through the memories of the Rejects, and formed a good enough comparison to the girl. My body set to work, compacting and squishing down to the correct size. Tendrils folded into muscles, legs converged, and flesh turned to skin and hair. Some of my flesh became clothing. It was an easy process. Easy enough. I didn't know I could do it.

Done in one and three fourths seconds.

Short black hair, white dress, vacant grey eyes, pale skin. She looked like a walking corpse, but it was a million times better than my old form. It felt wrong only having two arms, and two eyes, and legs. Only one mouth and nose felt dangerous to maintain.

She jumped at me and hugged me, gently, softly. I placed my hands on her back without any force, I'm not sure how much pressure these creatures can withstand, so I'm being safe... Safe? I'm being safe? I wiped the entirety of a nation off the map, and I'm being safe?

I... killed an entire nation?

I began to cry in the girl's arms.

What am I...