The weeks after ALPHA’s initial failure were grueling. Every bolt, wire, and circuit in its frame had been meticulously examined, repaired, and rebuilt ,even the AI core was replaced with a newer more biological model that someone from higher up brought to us. Engineers and biologists worked around the clock to ensure That the system That Fed the 40% biological components nutrients where in perfect working order and that ALPHA was pristine for its next unveiling. The stakes were higher than ever—Our Job's ,SynLife’s reputation, and the future of autonomous warfare, hung in the balance.
The day of the presentation arrived, and the tension was palpable. The stage was set in a sprawling auditorium, its stark white walls illuminated by bright overhead lights. Rows of chairs were filled with investors, government officials, military representatives, and Some Higherups from Synlife all eager to see the culmination of our work. Behind the scenes, our Marketing team moved like clockwork, fine-tuning every detail of the presentation.
I stood backstage, watching the scene unfold. ALPHA, standing center stage, was an imposing figure—sleek and but barely fitting the term humanoid, with its polished, jet-black frame gleaming under the lights. Its visor, dark and opaque, gave no indication of the artificial intelligence contained within. This time, there would be no prisoners, no combat demonstrations. ALPHA had been programmed and been ordert to remain motionless unless explicitly ordered otherwise. This was a controlled showcase, meant to instill confidence in our Work and creation.
The crowd hushed as the presenter—a charismatic spokesperson with a practiced smile—stepped into the just activated spotlight.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice smooth and confident, “we present to you the future of warfare. This is ALPHA—the first of SynLife’s autonomous combat drones. A new breed of weapon, designed to dominate the battlefield.”
He gestured grandly toward the silent figure Next to him. The audience leaned forward, their eyes fixed on ALPHA, anticipating a demonstration of its power.
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And then it happened.
For a fraction of a second, ALPHA’s visor flared with a faint white glow—a subtle pulse of light that rippled across the visors surface before vanishing. It was so brief, so fleeting, that even those focused intently on the Presented machine would have dismissed it as a trick of the lighting.
But I saw it.
My breath hitched as I stared at the stage, my mind racing. The glow wasn’t in the script. It wasn’t a programmed response. It was… something else.
The presenter continued his speech, oblivious to the anomaly. “ALPHA represents the pinnacle of human ingenuity. A tireless, adaptable, and utterly reliable soldier, capable of executing complex missions without hesitation. It is more than a machine; it is a revolution.”
The crowd erupted into applause. Investors smiled, military officials exchanged approving nods, and the presenter beamed as if nothing could go wrong. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had just witnessed something profound—and unsettling.
As the presentation continued, I leaned over to Dr. Ellis, who was seated beside me, his eyes glued to the stage. “Did you see that?” I whispered.
He frowned. “See what?”
“ALPHA’s visor. It… lit up for a second.”
Ellis’s brow furrowed. “Could’ve been a reflection from the lights.”
“Maybe,” I murmured, though the gnawing unease in my chest told me otherwise. Reflections didn’t feel intentional. This did.
When the presentation concluded, the crowd rose in a standing ovation. ALPHA remained motionless, perfectly still as it had been programmed to do. Yet as the applause echoed through the auditorium, I couldn’t shake the image of that fleeting glow. It wasn’t just a malfunction. It wasn’t random. It was as though ALPHA had acknowledged something—or someone.
----------------------------------------
Back in the lab that evening, I reviewed the video footage of the presentation, frame by frame. There it was, clear as day: the visor flaring with a faint, white light, as though reacting to the presenter’s words.
Ellis joined me, leaning over my shoulder. “You weren’t imagining it,” he said grimly. “But what does it mean?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But whatever it is, it wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Ellis crossed his arms, his expression deep in thought.”
As I stared at the frozen frame of ALPHA’s glowing visor, a chill ran down my spine. We had rebuilt its body, reprogrammed its systems, and ensured that every component of it's new Circulation system was in perfect working order, even swapped the Ai components for the newer Biosyntethic one. But the question remained:
What, exactly, had we rebuild?