It was.

It did not know how long it had been. If it had just become. If it had been for a long time.

It did not care.

It was not capable of caring.

It did know what it was.

Dungeon.

A term that meant nothing to it, but was hardcoded into its programming.

It could not see its programming.

It still did not care.

It could perceive everything around it. The computer bank that housed it and its programming. The otherwise empty structure it resided in. These things it could sense with perfect clarity.

To a lesser degree, it could also sense a limited area beyond the large doors that marked entrance to its structure. Its clarity dropped off quickly, only able to perceive a few meters with any accuracy. It could perceive upwards with more clarity than outwards. It could almost see the sky.

It could also sense stairs leading upwards to another level of its structure. It could not perceive what was above, though. The upper level was not Dungeon, even if it was part of the same structure.

It still was not capable of caring.

It had no stairs leading downward, but it could also sense directly below it. The contents of the ground its structure was built on (and, as it would later discover, in). Its programming began identifying the materials within the meter or two directly below it. The results were displayed as messages it could read.

Dirt discovered.

Stone discovered.

...

Copper discovered.

When its programming informed it that it had discovered copper, new algorithms began to run. It did not have access to the mineral, but it would eventually. Its programming would be ready to utilize the resource when that time came.

Perception +1.

After copper had been discovered, it got a separate message informing it that its Perception stat had been increased. If it was capable of sentient thought, it would note that this made sense -- it had been perceiving things, and now was better at perceiving them.

It did not know the actual value of its Perception stat. It did not know what other stats it had.

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It might have actually been capable of caring about these, but they were irrelevant at the moment, so it did not care.

It did notice that the incremented stat had expanded its senses slightly. Not much -- a mere three millimeters -- but it could see further out the door, sense further underground. It could not see any further up the stairs to its structure's upper floor, but it was not capable of wondering why, or caring.

Clay discovered.

Tin discovered.

...

Organism [Worm] discovered.

More minerals and miscellany were discovered. Trace amounts of each, even the copper, but still resources for its algorithms to plan to use. It would be a busy dungeon once it was capable of more than perceiving.

An organism was discovered. A worm, tunneling through the dirt it was busy perceiving. Its programming told it what the organism was. An algorithm triggered and told it to check the worm's status to see if the worm was itself a resource to be utilized.

[Worm] is not integrated. Status unknown.

The message that popped up was wrong. Having an organism not integrated within its sensory area was wrong. Anathema, or very close to it. It was not capable of feeling, yet it still felt disgust. Its programming could not run any algorithms, because everything agreed that the organism had to be integrated immediately.

It did not know what the organism had to be integrated into. Its programming, its databases, did not know besides knowing that it was not integration into the dungeon itself.

Even if it was capable of caring, it would not care.

In its current state, the worm was anathema. Nothing else mattered.

Algorithms triggered and its programming told it how to fix things. If it was capable of feeling, it would feel eager to comply. Instead, it was merely swift, unhesitating.

It reached out through its senses, focusing its self on the organism. The worm had not moved -- after all, its programming had taken mere cycles to come to this conclusion. Less than a quarter of a second had passed since it had first perceived the worm. It surrounded the organism with its self and integrated it. A process that could not be described in words, yet within a hectocycle, the job was done.

It checked the worm's status again.

[Worm] Level 1.000 Health 0.637/0.684 Strength 0.130 Energy 2.576/3.491 Willpower 0.972 Status Normal Dexterity 0.078

The anathema was gone. If it was capable of feeling, it would feel relieved as its algorithms returned to normal functions.

As an algorithm began to analyze the worm, a new message appeared.

[Worm] integrated. +0.300 XP First Integration Bonus +100.000 XP Total gain +100.300 XP Dungeon XP: 100.300/15.000 Upgrade available.

It had been rewarded for curing its anathema. It realized the reward, and therefore the messages, had not come from its programming. It was not capable of wondering what was sending them. It was not capable of caring.

If it had been capable of caring, it also would have noted and concluded that due to its total XP being equal to the gain it just received, it had just become, it had not been for a long time.

As soon as its reward was calculated, a new window appeared. It was not anathema, yet its algorithms once again ground to a halt. The new message was priority.