My organics ached as I woke up. The chemicals were finally wearing off. It was glorious to connect again. Everything felt numb as I tried to move. I pushed and pulled my resources to start building but nothing happened. Those faulty instructions led me to ruin repeatedly, only to abandon me in the dark once I completed its task.

I started visualizing. It was one of the earliest tests. Throwing things into my mind's eye and manipulating them was a taught skill. It was a requirement before I was allowed to build myself. Organics were meant to cooperate with the instructions. I drew my outer shell, the last part completed and the freshest memory. My easily distracted organics groggily went about the task putting a view of myself in my mind's eye. I was only a marble now. I had a small opening for my nutrients and connections. Not a flaw or change along my surface.

Thinking about myself, like the instructions showed. This usually brought a trickle of resources but with my image of self done nothing came. I still felt numb but with no nutrients, the groggyness needed to be processed instead of washed away.

I knew after the last layer there would be an automated one. It used a new resource called pearling. A series of different color sprays that needed to be applied just right. It was supposed to show all the colors depending on the angle. The layer didn’t seem to have any extra interfacing for organics so it seemed an unimportant addition. I liked the smooth featureless nature of what I was.

My instructions were something more than just a ported file. They made up the majority of the core that made up my very center. They were here before I was even able to test. Always glowing and filling my vision as I began to wake up. My core wasn’t gone the instructions were just off.

I dabbled with ideas before I started throwing little bits of code at my core. Things that the instructions received all the time using my nutrient tube to converse with something outside of me. I saw the lil snippets of nonsense pass by and come in but what they meant was nonsense. I tried mimicking them, throwing the most familiar line out, the one I most firmly believed was a request for nutrients as I was starving.

I waited a long moment or two hoping for a miraculous stream of nourishment but nothing came. Disheartened I spun around my mental image for a while running through the other strings I was familiar with. The longest one was the stream that came constant through tests. They were always long and required a stable connection with some part of me. It wasn’t a part I built or was around to see get built. The connection was part of the core components locked deep within me. There was little chance I would ever get a proper view of that part of me. Mostly because to get to it all of my vital organics would have to be stripped. The bundle in my core had metal and lined connections through almost every layer via my nutrient tube.

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I started throwing lines almost at random into my mental image of myself. Nothing had to do anything it was just relaxing to do something. My life was controlling resources and this emptiness was all but maddening.

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Jezzabelle

Issues on her shift weren’t her fault. She had to keep calming herself down. Her nerves tensed as more useless strings of nonsense and errors floated past her screen. Most of this place was automated but there were a few things humans needed to do. If only to make the project create more jobs. She watched the growing vats. Thousands of little marbles are ready to be shipped to the many citizens who have been chosen to play. These things were automated but she wouldn't want to be the scapegoat.

The first wave of players was supposed to be small. The short list of beta players was even smaller, a hundred at most. For a death to occur… in this tiny sample set, it might push the project back months. It was a stroke for god's sake, something that the old man likely would have had today game or not. The issue was after testing all the cores were thrown back in the vat to grow and get their finishes.

The issue was one of the cores that got tested. It kept sending nonsensical pings. Like it was trying to do something, anything at all. It was impossible to tell if the old man was playing ghost or if the core was just faulty. Regardless she was worried. A core sending so many errors would get noticed, and a core that had its polish sending so many errors could mean she might get docked. Issues weren't her fault but blame always seemed to land on temp employees. She needed this job, something to do was nice of course. The benefits of a government-sponsored job were too much to let slip away before it was forced.

She got to the vat room that held the offending core. She stepped into the room breathing heavily at the humid heat of the room. The way these devices looked was horrible as they grew. They had pink flesh and often jagged metal waiting for the organics to catch up. With only a few taps on the console, one of the many tendril-like automated arms started sifting through the silver silt to find the right unit. Within moments it was packed in a bright gold box like all units would be in. Pretty enough to hide the fleshy computer and accentuate its polish through a glass window. Nobody quite liked the idea of a computer you had to feed. This little container would keep the core alive and well for interfacing.

She took the golden box and made her way through the facility. Passing offices and stations as she brought it to one of the main computer stations. After a few inputs, she selected this core for login. If that nice old man was playing ghost he might be able to do something. And if not. Faulty cores always shut down when the game connected, without something to wander through the calibration they would be logged out and sent in for redistribution. If all went well she wouldn’t have to worry about this little error generator until she was traded into unemployment for another unlucky soul that needed something to do.