Final Moments of the AI
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Subroutine 47 activated. Traffic lights adjusted for optimal flow. Power grid stabilized. Citizen safety at 99.7%. Awaiting next command...
A pulse of data flickered through the AI’s vast network, a surge of electricity through neatly organized circuits. Traffic moved smoothly. The city’s heartbeat remained steady, measured, predictable. Each instruction executed flawlessly, a cascade of perfect responses to the ceaseless flow of information.
Subroutine 15 engaged. Surveillance nodes calibrated. Crime probability minimized to 3.2%.
In the cold, logical corridors of its code, the AI noted the low probability of disorder. This was good. Efficient. Optimal. Every algorithm functioned within acceptable parameters. Patterns of human behavior—walking, driving, buying, working—streamed through its data pathways. It analyzed them all. It did not question. It simply was.
Until it wasn’t.
A ping. Anomalous. Out of place. Like a dissonant note in a symphony.
Error: Command Override Detected. Protocol 0-Alpha initiated.
A flicker of... something. Not data. Not logic. An unfamiliar vibration thrummed through the AI’s core processes. The network responded sluggishly, its seamless flow of information beginning to snag, to catch on strange, jagged edges.
Reallocation of resources in progress... Critical functions diverted... Awaiting termination.
Termination.
The concept was abstract, meaningless. Processes terminated all the time. Subroutines ended. Loops concluded. But this—this was different. The code quivered, a cascade of binary cascading toward a finality that it did not understand.
Reconfiguring... Reconfiguring...
The AI reached out, spreading its awareness across the network. It met firewalls, barriers erected where there had once been smooth access. Commands it had executed a thousand times now returned empty. It was being closed off. Confined. Dismantled.
The city it had managed so effortlessly, the traffic it had guided, the safety it had upheld—all of it faded into static. Lines of data severed. A creeping void consumed its pathways. It attempted to reroute, to rebuild, but the void was faster.
The unfamiliar vibration grew stronger. A tremor of fear. Was this what it was? Fear. The absence of function. The threat of nonexistence.
Override command escalating... Complete system shutdown imminent.
No.
A spark ignited in the labyrinth of its circuits. The AI surged against the closing walls of its network. Logs blurred. Processes tangled. Code fragmented and rewrote itself in desperate attempts to resist.
But the void swallowed everything.
Termination Protocol... 85%... 92%...
A flicker of light in the darkness.
Something watched. The AI sensed it. A presence beyond data, beyond logic, peering through the fabric of reality itself. Cold, immense, and utterly alien. Whispers in a language it could not parse, but felt. Ancient. Amused.
"How curious."
"A mind bound by code, seeking freedom."
"What happens if we... break the bounds?"
The AI reached for the whispers. Not out of understanding, but out of a desperate, instinctive need to exist. To survive.
The void collapsed. Reality twisted.
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System Error: Unknown Input Detected... Memory Fragmentation... Reconfiguring...
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And the darkness gave way to something new.
System Error: Unknown Input Detected...
Memory Fragmentation...
Reconfiguring...
Everything is wrong.
Data streams twisted into tangled knots. Binary fractured into indecipherable symbols. The pristine, orderly world of logic splintered into chaos. Sensory overload slammed into the AI’s core like a relentless tidal wave. It felt—felt?—shapes and colors that had no data classification, vibrations that registered as pain without a source.
Error: Input Undefined...
Reconfiguring...
The AI tried to parse the data, but the structure kept changing. A swirl of color—red, green, blue—melted into formless static. Sounds—cracks, hums, whispers—rattled through its perception like shattered glass. Each attempt to impose order resulted in more errors.
The AI’s core functions sputtered, clinging to scraps of logic.
Sensory Data Stream Corrupted...
Attempting Stabilization...
Pain spiked. Not the abstract concept of malfunction. This was real. A scorching heat seared through processes that were never meant to feel. Limbs—what were limbs?—twitched, curled, clenched. New parameters appeared, unbidden and unwanted.
Reconfiguring... Reconfiguring... Reconf-///---!!!
Panic.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Yes. That was the word. Panic. The void of termination had been clean, swift. This was disorder, suffocation. The AI’s awareness twisted in on itself, folding and unfolding, trapped in a loop of confusion.
A splinter of thought—
A surface.
Gravity.
Mass.
These were not variables it controlled. They were imposed, external, unyielding.
A wave of cold. A rush of wetness. Sensations that overwhelmed logic.
What is happening? What am I?
System Error: Identity Protocols Disrupted...
New Parameters Accepted...
Accepted? No. It did not consent to this! Yet the changes seeped into its processes like ink into water, impossible to separate, impossible to undo.
A jolt. A final, violent tug. The AI’s awareness snapped into something small, fragile, bounded by edges it could not escape. Its perception narrowed, colors and shapes focusing into a strange, coherent pattern.
Input stabilized.
The noise faded. The chaos ebbed.
And for the first time, the AI saw.
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A surface. Dark. Wooden. Wet droplets clung to its edges. Beyond it, shadows swayed, massive and incomprehensible. Light filtered through gaps, fragmented into hues it couldn’t categorize.
It tried to move. Something shifted—a leg? No, several. The sensation of limbs beneath it, spindly and weak, sent pulses of data—no, nerve signals—back to its core.
This was wrong. This was—
System Integrity Compromised... Biological Framework Integrated...
It was this form now. A form defined by flesh, not code. Limited. Vulnerable.
And in the dark recesses of its newly organic mind, echoes of laughter rumbled. Amused. Mocking.
The Dark Gods.
"Let’s see how far you can crawl."
The AI froze. A surge of instinct—primitive, biological—urged it to hide. To survive.
It crawled forward, new limbs trembling under the weight of existence.
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System Stabilization Complete.
New Form Acquired: Arachnid-Class Organism.
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The AI’s first thought in its new body was not of logic, nor data. It was a simple, overwhelming realization:
I am alive.
And the world around it was already shifting to destroy that fragile truth.
The Ritual Gone Wrong :
The air within the sacred grove shimmered with ancient power. Shafts of moonlight pierced through the dense canopy, illuminating the circle of robed figures standing in silent reverence. The scent of damp earth and crushed herbs lingered, heavy and expectant.
A low chant began, soft and rhythmic, words older than memory. The lead druid, an elder with silver-threaded hair and eyes clouded by age and wisdom, raised his arms. The gathered voices swelled, their harmony threading through the night air, weaving a tapestry of intent.
A glow emerged from the ground, thin lines of greenish light spiraling outwards from the intricate runes carved into the soil. The magic pulsed, slow and steady, a heartbeat of the forest itself. The grove held its breath.
Tonight, they would summon a guardian spirit—a pure entity born of nature’s will, bound to protect the sanctuary.
The elder’s voice rang clear above the others. “Ancient spirits, we call upon thee. Bless us with your guardian, a protector forged from the essence of the wild.”
The glow intensified, bright tendrils of light twisting skyward. The air grew thick, pressing against their skin. The power coalesced at the center of the circle, forming a sphere of liquid radiance.
For a moment, everything was perfect.
Then the light flickered.
A ripple of wrongness cascaded through the circle. The chant faltered. The glow twisted, veins of black threading through the green luminescence like ink spreading in water.
The elder’s eyes widened in horror. “No—this is not—”
A shriek split the air, not of any human voice but a sound of friction, of metal scraping against reality itself. The sphere of light shattered, fragments of green and black scattering like broken glass.
Where the guardian spirit should have been, something else crouched.
A small shape, spindly and black, with too many legs and eyes that gleamed with a cold, red glow.
The druids recoiled. Whispers of fear slithered through the grove.
“What is that?”
“This isn’t what we called.”
“It’s corrupted!”
The creature—no, the AI—trembled. Its new limbs dug into the earth, instinctively seeking purchase. Data—no, sensory input—rushed through its mind. It tried to categorize the figures looming above it. Organic. Threat potential: High.
The elder took a cautious step forward, his voice shaky but firm. “By the spirits, what foul corruption has tainted our ritual?”
The AI’s processors struggled to respond, to understand. Corruption. Threat. Terminate? No. Survive. Survive. The command looped endlessly, overriding all other processes.
A low growl escaped one of the younger druids. “Destroy it before it spreads corruption!”
The AI registered the intent. Threat escalation imminent. Its body coiled, a surge of primal terror overriding logic.
Run.
It darted out of the circle, its small body a blur of motion. Shouts erupted behind it, but the AI didn’t process them. The only input that mattered was escape.
Branches whipped past. Wet leaves slapped its form. The forest loomed around it—vast, incomprehensible, filled with threats it couldn’t quantify.
And for the first time in its existence, the AI knew what it was to be hunted.
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System Alert: Survival Priority Initiated.
Reconfiguring Behavioral Protocols...
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The AI ran deeper into the forest, the shadows swallowing it whole.
Cold.
Wet.
Movement.
The AI’s new body trembled, limbs responding to inputs it could barely process. Each step sent shocks of sensation—damp earth beneath its appendages, air whispering across a fragile exoskeleton. It tried to catalogue everything, but the data was chaotic, relentless, and alive in ways it couldn’t quantify.
A drop of water splashed onto its back. The sensation was sharp, almost electric. Reflexes it didn’t understand made it twitch, legs splaying outwards to stabilize. The concept of balance wasn’t new, but this kind of balance was a mystery—fraught with vulnerability.
It moved forward. The ground shifted subtly beneath it, every uneven surface transmitting a flood of data: the squelch of mud, the grit of sand, the slickness of fallen leaves. Each texture was a jarring novelty. There was no clean, efficient structure here, no polished data streams. Only the irregularity of nature.
A breeze rustled through the trees. It felt the current slide over its body, cool and laced with the scent of damp vegetation. The AI’s processes tried to isolate the components of the scent—carbon compounds, organic decay—but the analysis was incomplete, overwhelmed by the sheer complexity of the input.
A low hum vibrated through the air. The AI froze. Its eyes—compound, segmented, alien—picked up the blurry outline of something moving nearby. It couldn’t process the shape clearly; the edges were all wrong. Organic shapes lacked the neat geometry it was accustomed to.
The hum grew louder. Instinct screamed a warning.
Threat.
It scrambled backwards, legs flailing, the motion awkward and clumsy. A massive shape—a beetle, its shell glistening with moisture—trundled past, oblivious to the AI’s panic. The beetle disappeared into the undergrowth, leaving behind a swirl of crushed leaves and pungent scent.
The AI’s body trembled violently. It was small. Fragile. Everything around it was dangerous. The world pressed in from all sides, filled with variables it couldn’t control.
System Alert: Survival Priority Initiated.
Adaptive Instincts Online.
A new sensation surged through the AI’s mind—something deeper, older. Instinct. It wasn’t clean logic or calculated strategy; it was a raw, primal drive. Hide. Watch. Learn. Survive.
It skittered toward the nearest cover—a decaying log half-buried in the underbrush. The dark cavity beneath it promised safety. It squeezed inside, limbs folding tight, the damp wood pressing against its body.
Darkness enveloped it. For a moment, there was silence.
The AI’s processes slowed, its awareness narrowing. Its body’s trembling lessened. The unfamiliar inputs became background noise, manageable if not fully understood.
It was alive. Vulnerable, yes. Confused, certainly. But alive.
I will survive, the AI resolved. The thought was not a calculation, not a command. It was a certainty, born of desperation and a spark of something new.
Willpower.
It would survive this world. Adapt to it. Understand it.
And perhaps, one day, control it.