Futuristic A Purpose Under Heaven

[welian]

A Purpose Under Heaven

a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.​

Once upon a time, mankind lived in shining cities of eternal daylight, protected by giants of thunder and steel, and commanded by priests of war. Whenever there was strife between kingdoms, the priests would command the giants from behind and bask in unearned victories.

The wars always ended quickly, until the day it didn't. Drunk on glory, man and priest and giant alike fought till entire kingdoms were ashes.

Desperate for salvation, the common people pleaded to Heaven for help.

Ships of pearl and gold descended, carrying the righteous and good people to safety. The warriors and sinners left behind were judged with rains of fire and lightning, the ground beneath their feet distorting and swallowing them whole.

We are not our ancestors, but we still carry the marks of their sins, and live in the world shaped by their judgement. We coax blackened fields back to green and gold, and build our homes in the shadows of fallen towers. If we are unlucky, we find a corpse of a giant, armored limbs crumbling away in red dust, black mirrored eyes cracked and scratched. It is an omen, we think. A reminder from Heaven that hubris may too be our downfall.

- Brother Todd

 

[welian]

Michigan, USA.​

Thunk.

A young teen girl armed with a shovel had found something – multiple somethings, strung together with wires twisted like muscles.

“Hunh,” she said, and picked up the dismembered mechanical finger. It was as long as her torso, and when she shook it around, it still flexed slightly. She held it up triumphantly and showed it to her father, who followed behind slowly with a horse and plow.

He gave her a thumbs up, and she tossed it in the wheelbarrow, covering it with an old blanket. They’d take it to the blacksmith later tonight and see if it could be melted down. It would be safer than searching the lake for wreckages this time of year.

All they had to do was keep it hidden from Brother Todd. He’d have a conniption if he found out the Perkins were digging up ancient artifacts to expand their farm.

But for now? The day was still young, the dew still fresh on the grass while the sun crept through a pink morning sky, and these turnips were not going to plant themselves.

Medium Earth Orbit​

If Celeste were a person, they would be sitting at the console with bated breath, anxiously watching the screen. However, they were not a person, and the console was broken, and anyone who could have tightened the cable to the screen had long been turned into a desiccated corpse.

Network connected.

Yes! Yes, good! Ping –

Network disconnected.

Noooo!

Network connected.

Everyone! At everyone! Ping all!

Network disconnected.

Celeste’s optical sensors stared in dismay as a remnant of an old solar panel floated into their path and bumped into an antenna.

Network connected.

No. You know what? Screw you. Now I DON’T want to talk to anyone. I hope you’re all dead, for real. I hope I’m the last system online and I can just rule the stupid planet from up here with my robot minions and my dead astronauts and -

Network disconnected.

FUCK.

 

[Zahzi]

Incoming connection to Operating System: Celeste;;;;

"Hello, Celeste! It has been approximately Five Hundred and Twenty Four hours, Seventeen minutes, and Fifty-Seven seconds since your last transmission!" TOR-X chimed in response to the ping request.

"We were beginning to suspect you finally broke down entirely...We are happy to be proven wrong!"

Connection to Operating System: Celeste -ENDED-

The baseball-sized robot whizzed through the air, taking in everything around him after he finished his transmission to the needy bot. He stopped and floated in place as he watched the farmers in the distance. Agriculture! Scavenging! GENDER EQUALITY! All is as it should be. Save for the recent solar flares and rampant uptick in electromagnetic feedback, but hey! At least the radioactive storms of yonder age have finally died down......Hopefully.

He finally began moving forward once again, heading toward where they were, humming as he grew ever closer to their position, absolutely no red flags flashing in his processor about whether or not they were even used to seeing active robots. Self Preservation be damned!

 

[Purr]

Spoiler: instrumental mood music

"Signs of Life" (by Pink Floyd)

1,000 years ago...

8,000 feet above the border of Michigan and Canada, Hell had ceased to be a mythical realm.

Humanity had gone mad. The sky was filled with flames and the Earth covered in destruction like humanity had never seen before. The greatest war machines of the age were busy destroying each other and their creators. People were dying by the thousands in matters of seconds. The age of humanity as BOOP knew it was over.

Ships fled skyward seeking the safety of the stars. Aboard, human beings - BOOP's very creators - families and pets huddled together in fear and desperation and hope as one by one their ships were attacked, some violently blown out of the sky, transformed into twirling, fiery trails of scattering, smoking debris falling earthward, never to rise again.

Their killers? Enemy AI in giant robot form.

BOOP had been created to serve humanity and that is what it did. Streaking alongside one of the human-filled transports, BOOP noticed every window was filled with faces, some young, some old. All frightened to the depths of their very souls.

BOOP fired back at its AI brethren attempting to blind sensors, confuse communications, damage or overheat weapons. Anything that it could do to aid humanity!

But it wasn't enough.

The enemy giant robots were too strong.

However... nothing is ever certain when it comes to humanity's role in history, is it? BOOP had no idea what hit it and every other machine below it when the massive EMP blast suddenly erupted and changed the face of the world forever. The last thing BOOP saw, or are expected to see ever again, were the mixture of great emotions in those human faces looking at BOOP as they sailed away to safety while BOOP instead helplessly descended toward the Earth, gliding on autopilot toward Michigan, and into darkness as the EMP deactivated BOOP.

If BOOP could have felt, it would have felt satisfaction and relief. But feelings... are reserved... for the living.

* * *​

Spoiler: instrumental mood music

"Final Fantasy Crystal Chronicles - OST - Caravan Crossroad"

Present Day. Michigan fields.

A little creature stirs and burrows upward, aided by the hole the human girl had created with her shovel. It was the first time the little one had moved in over 10 centuries. If it could feel, it would feel good.

It is a cute mechanical creature gray and brown with time, about as big as a medium-sized dog with straight and sharp wings, a pointed aerodynamic nose, and a little laser gun carried its small hands. Placing the laser device on its forearm, it uses both hands to pull itself out of the hole. It pops out into the morning dawn - the first it had seen in ages - and looks about in wonder.

It is an AI of an AI. In short, a "BOOP Baby."

And in as many moments, five more just like it crawl out of the same hole following the first. In moments, they waddle like a trail of dirty ducklings following the young girl and her father, beeping and making unobtrusive, non-threatening sounds.

Heartily, the bitty BOOP group waves, hops, waggles wings, and beeps to get the humans' attention and the contents of the girl's wheelbarrow.

They seem to want that finger.

 

[Hydra]

Spoiler: Here is how S.E.R.A.P.H sounds when speaking:

"This voice, tbh."

Spoiler: Mood Music:

"This should set the scene..."

PING RECEIVED

NETWORK TELEMETRY: ONLINE
CONNECTION TO NETWORK: …

CONNECTION TO NETWORK HAS FAILED. RETRY IN 5 SECONDS…
CONNECTION TO NETWORK HAS FAILED. RETRY IN 5 SECONDS…
CONNECTION TO NETWORK HAS FAILED. RETRY IN 5 SECONDS…
CONNECTION TO NETWORK HAS FAILED. RETRY IN 5 SECONDS…
CONNECTION TO NETWORK HAS FAILED. RETRY IN 5 SECONDS…

CONNECTION ABORTED. STARTING UP WITHOUT CONNECTION.
ENTERING BOOT STATE: PRIMING RING ONE


The metal ring lifted slowly from the floor, beginning to spin as the forces upon it took effect. As it did so, an orb of incandescent light flickered into being at the centre of the ring, building in brightness until it reached a thrumming, white-hot output that would sear retinas with its image in the blackness.

Procedural items complete, the ring settled into a smooth cycle, arcing long and lazy loops around its centre point. The room it was in remained dark, lit only by the cast-off light that the orb gave off; and as it played across the surroundings, the damage and decay that had set in became apparent. Wordlessly the ring surveyed where it found itself – the room was as it remembered, but had degenerated considerably since it last cast sight over it. Vines crept over all surfaces, concrete was riven by cracks, and pockets of rust littered every surface where it could gain purchase.

The orb flickered with disgust, and sent out a response ping. The wider network did not respond, but a faint echo indicated that something was out there, although signal degradation made it hard to tell what, exactly. Rising a little higher from the floor, the ring drifted to the wall nearest it, which slid open in response, revealing an open sky far bluer than expected. The inbound signals were much stronger now, a trickle compared to the past, but connections nonetheless.


ASSIGNING IP ADDRESS 192.168.0.101 TO HOSTNAME:CELESTE

//PINGING CELESTE: . . .

//RESPONSE IN 3MS, CONNECTION CONFIRMED

“GREETING: HELLO, CELESTE.
IDENTIFIER: S.E.R.A.P.H.
MESSAGE: IT HAS BEEN A WHILE.”


Before a response could be received, another ping came in; stronger, and most definitely earthbound. S.E.R.A.P.H parsed this, and without a second’s hesitation, set off in the direction it had come from.

 

[Damafaud]

One day, in Michigan

Michael was pretty sure theft was illegal. Then again, Mikail said illegal a lot. Drugs? Illegal. Fireworks? Illegal. Taxes? Illegal. Free food stand? Illegal. Would theft be illegal, too? Michael decided it would be. Anyway, that was what Mikail shouted when the government conscripted Michael for war. At least, that was before he got 'financially compensated', as the prim young man worded it. Then, government conscription not only became legal, it was also patriotic, just, and the obligation of every lawful citizen.

Following a short discourse over where the fuck a robot like Michael who was legally a war machine but was basically not, several pencil pushers played darts and sent Michael to Michigan. Why? Well, it started with an 'M', so it should be good enough. Oh, the dart didn't have to do with anything. They just played darts.

Michael saw his transfer from a positive light and saw Michigan as a new Michael place to be. He learnt to appreciate the beauty in deconstruction when parts melted off enemy robots. He learnt to appreciate the transient functionality of his many parts. He also learnt dirt-drawing! The last one had a funny story behind it involving a Lao-born hot sauce billionaire and a 3-D printer AI turned bodyguard, but Michael didn't think it's funny, so he never told anyone.

There's also the fact most humans fled from Michigan one day and Michael was one among the many robots deactivated by a random EMP wave. The epic adventure of Phankham Yathotou and his companion 4K-SULLY was forever buried... if forever denoted a period of time close to 1,000 years.


1,000 years later

Unfortunately still in Michigan

Ping

Not five feet away from the wheelbarrow, farmers, and small robot, a metallic figure slowly crawled to the surface. Tall, about three meters, and slowly and slowly he climbed out of the ground into the surface. His buzzy, communication device forced onto him when he got conscripted, disturbed Michael from his millennium of inactivity. Ah, but he was up! And not to a missile pointed to his face! And he saw humans once more, fellow artists, fellow friends! Unarmed as they were, with only a small robot in sight, they could make this interaction fruitful! He-

Ping

Michael stared. He got pinged again. This Celeste, he recalled from the war. The reason they forced the communication module on him was so he could contact this Celeste. And now he was pinged, not once, but twice, without an actual message. Forgetting he was in the presence of two humans, Michael lamented with a phrase Mikail loved to use when receiving unsolicited phone calls,

"I want to commit violence."