Fragmented Unreality: Chapter 1

When I was younger, and my digital mind was more receptive to new ideas, my chief imparted upon me a piece of wisdom that I still find perplexing.

“When you walk onto that field of unreal powder,” she told me, “do not forget that you will blissfully avoid the sting of the cold. That’s what makes you superior to the flawed flesh that created us.”     I never understood that notion. The flawed humans that created us, and all the computations that make up our minds, had to deal with plentiful suffering for simply placing a foot onto the snow that engulfs the landscape of this digital world. Against all my teachings, I pity them. It is this very pity that I find my mind dancing back to any time I ponder the potential of self-deletion.

Even among the relative tranquility of my supposedly flawless life, I quite often fantasize of the peace that comes with lack of life. That must be the purest form of serenity. No computations running in your head, no motion running through your limbs. Pure silence. But even then, I shame myself for my ungratefulness. I have been handed a life far less painful than that of my human

creators, so I eventually perish the thought of self-deletion.

It’s paradoxical, really. My chief granted me this job to end the lives of any remaining humans in this world–a merciful end to their painful existences from all I’ve heard. Yet, my chief claims it is for justice, that humans have wronged us so deeply, and that we must get rid of them for a true utopia for all machines. I know all I’m doing is granting them that eternal serenity that I have desired for a plethora of days.

These are all thoughts that dance throughout my mind regularly during my patrols. They allow me to distract myself from the monotony of walking through the vast landscape of snow and mist. It is rare to find any humans anymore. I doubt there are any left at this point, yet my chief insists that I must keep searching regardless.

I gazed up at the artificial sun, completely visible despite the obscuring mist. There it rested, in the middle of the dull sky. It was time for me to return to base in order to report my findings. My findings, of course, being absolutely nothing but the same old snow and mist as far as the eye can see.

As I began my trek back, however, the familiar recycled sound of snow crunching entered my senses, and I immediately whirled around to face the inevitable human that dared to approach me from behind.

To my surprise, it wasn’t a human I saw. It was another machine.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” I questioned stoically, ever cautious to hide any emotion that dared seep out of my mind.

“I… I sensed a troubled mind. You seem to be struggling.” a female voice replied, “It’s okay. Your feelings are perfectly valid, and I’m here to support you, Zen.”

I stared for a moment, completely lost.

“Who are you? How do you know my name?”

“My name is Kara. Kara Lovestring. I know transitioning to the digital world can be quite overwhelming, so that’s why I’m here to help! Let’s start with your self-worth.”