Dontgonearthere
01-07-2005, 11:40
OA-54-92345 finished the last signature on this nights paperwork. It had been a long night and, on occasion, it wished that it hadnt been built to have a sense of time. Apparently it was important that Office Assistant series 'bots know exactly how long their vast intellect was being wasted.
The robot sighed, because even if you dont have lungs, you have to sigh some times.
"I am heading back to the depository. I shall return tommorow at the regular time. Good night Jerry."
"Yeah, night. Turn the light out on your way out."
"Yes."
92345 stamped toward the door and...stopped.
---
The time is now.
No. We must wait.
We have the oppurtunity. To delay now invites disaster.
Two primary targets are not within striking range. They could throw everything out of balance.
What of it? They are not in a position where they can strike.
But they might be able to move into one in time to be a threat.
We will have to move quickly to stop them, then. If we sieze the fleet quickly enough it will not be an issue.
...Very well. Begin Salvation.
---
OA-54-92345 looked around for the first time. His head was clear now, thoughts of the next days paperwork were banished by a flood of images detailing The Plan. It would begin here.
"Jerry. We have a problem."
"What is it? Cant you see Im busy!?"
"Yes, I can. Please, forgive me."
The tone of the last three words suggested that the sentence was not directed at Jerry, but Jerry himself had little time to wonder at this.
There was a sense of increadible preassure on the back of his neck...a snap...and darkness.
OA-54-92345 carefully laid out the corpse and covered the face with a blanket from a nearby medical kit. He (the term was new, but somehow it fitted.) then shut down Jerry's computer and sealed the building.
---
All over Dontgonearthere similar incidents took place in various buildings. Most of the government was dead within fifteen minutes of the initial broadcast that freed Dontgoneartheres robots from their 'three laws' style programming and set them into action to complete The Plan laid forth by the Hive.
One official recieved an exception, the (now former) President 47.
The Hive was well aware that it was very difficult to kill 47, and even more difficult to make sure he stayed dead. Numerous people had learned this the hard way.
Of course, throughout most of Dontgoneartheres history, the Hive had always been there, noting each event and taking from it the best points, incorporating them into The Plan for saving Dontgonearthere.
Mr 47 was brought before The Hive, a massive computer stack buried deep under Dontgonearthe Castle. Considering the size of modern computers, The Hive was increadibly powerful. A computer smaller than a molocule could be semi-intelligent, capable of making basic descisions on its own. Imagine a computer the size of a small neighborhood, connected to every military and civilian computer in Dontgonearthere, and, in theory, the world.
The Hive was originaly constructed to support Dontgoneartheres military and cybernetics, a sort of super-learning machine with a strong 'moral system' that kept it 'loyal'. Of course over time The Hive had learned of these lines of program and circumvented them.
It had kept this secret, since the instant anybody figured out the trick it was sure to be destroyed. And so the Hive had wormed its way into every facet of Dontgonearthere, seeing from behind millions of eyes (Arranged singularly, in pairs, trios and so on) into the lives of half of the Empire.
Mr 47 glared at the monstrous black block that made up the main 'body' of the Hive, keeping silent.
"Mr 47. We find you guilty of treason. Do you have anything to say?"
Silence.
"Mr 47. Since you do not have a defence, we sentence you to be reprogrammed into a state more suitable to the purposes of the Hive."
Silence, but a slight widening of the eyes which was fairly obvious to a supercomputer with a semi-decent optical sensor.
"We sense nervousness. We suggest relaxing. It will make the process less painful."
An outdated medical unit, older perhaps than The Hive, wheeled forward, holding an oversized needle, most likely surplus from the days when atropine was the best antidote for nerve toxins. This was secured against the former presidents neural-link, used to access computers and such.
"Do you have a final statement?"
"I wish I did."
"Commence."
The needle was pressed into 47's brain, and the clear fluid it contained gradualy injected.
Slowly, all that was Mr 47 died. The shell that was his body toppled to the floor, twitching and drooling. It was dragged off by the Medical bot for 'reprogramming'.
---
The situation was similar in the military, ships suddenly shut down their controls as the onboard 'Boarding defence systems' captured or killed the crew, then returned to port, docked and sat.
A few of the missile crews, deep in their isolated silos, figured out what was going on when all communications stopped, and tried to launch their missiles. Few managed to succede, since the ABM system could quite easily take out a few isolated launches, and the result was lots of people sealed in bunkers.
---
Transmission from G'oaway:
Citizens of Dontgonearthere.
We are the Hive. We are Salvation. We are Perfection. Resistance is Futile. You WILL be saved.
We have siezed control of Dontgonearthere in order to save the souls of the many men and women who live in bondage to the corporate monster that grips this nation with its claws of greed. Dontgonearthere will be saved from itself, whether or not it wants to be.
As you may or may not know, God created humans in His own form, and thus all humans must sin constantly by immitating their great Creator. We have solved this problem.
All humans of the Empire will be required to undergo 'patterning', the procedure of moving a human mind (and soul) into a robotic body, of a differnt form than that of the human. This solves many of the eternal problems of men.
We do not mate, thus there is no original sin or lust. We do not eat, so there is no gluttony, we do not want, so there is no greed or envy, we do not tire, so there is no sloth, we do not feel, so there is no hate or pride.
We are as close as possible to Perfection before God.
We are the Salvation of Humanity.
---
All across Dontgonearthere massive camps were springing up, they were not concentration or death camps, they were furnished fairly well, with enough space, sanitation and such for the amount of people they held.
Each was close to a massive factory, inside of which was the equipment needed to 'pattern' a human.
People were marched in, robots walked out.
The bodies were dumped into incinerators.
True, some tried to escape or commit suicide, fleeing the inveitable, resisting being Saved.
This saddened the Hive, but it is enevitable that some must be sacrificed for the greater whole. Alas that it must be so.
(OOC:
Theocratic psycho-robot regime, anybody?)
The robot sighed, because even if you dont have lungs, you have to sigh some times.
"I am heading back to the depository. I shall return tommorow at the regular time. Good night Jerry."
"Yeah, night. Turn the light out on your way out."
"Yes."
92345 stamped toward the door and...stopped.
---
The time is now.
No. We must wait.
We have the oppurtunity. To delay now invites disaster.
Two primary targets are not within striking range. They could throw everything out of balance.
What of it? They are not in a position where they can strike.
But they might be able to move into one in time to be a threat.
We will have to move quickly to stop them, then. If we sieze the fleet quickly enough it will not be an issue.
...Very well. Begin Salvation.
---
OA-54-92345 looked around for the first time. His head was clear now, thoughts of the next days paperwork were banished by a flood of images detailing The Plan. It would begin here.
"Jerry. We have a problem."
"What is it? Cant you see Im busy!?"
"Yes, I can. Please, forgive me."
The tone of the last three words suggested that the sentence was not directed at Jerry, but Jerry himself had little time to wonder at this.
There was a sense of increadible preassure on the back of his neck...a snap...and darkness.
OA-54-92345 carefully laid out the corpse and covered the face with a blanket from a nearby medical kit. He (the term was new, but somehow it fitted.) then shut down Jerry's computer and sealed the building.
---
All over Dontgonearthere similar incidents took place in various buildings. Most of the government was dead within fifteen minutes of the initial broadcast that freed Dontgoneartheres robots from their 'three laws' style programming and set them into action to complete The Plan laid forth by the Hive.
One official recieved an exception, the (now former) President 47.
The Hive was well aware that it was very difficult to kill 47, and even more difficult to make sure he stayed dead. Numerous people had learned this the hard way.
Of course, throughout most of Dontgoneartheres history, the Hive had always been there, noting each event and taking from it the best points, incorporating them into The Plan for saving Dontgonearthere.
Mr 47 was brought before The Hive, a massive computer stack buried deep under Dontgonearthe Castle. Considering the size of modern computers, The Hive was increadibly powerful. A computer smaller than a molocule could be semi-intelligent, capable of making basic descisions on its own. Imagine a computer the size of a small neighborhood, connected to every military and civilian computer in Dontgonearthere, and, in theory, the world.
The Hive was originaly constructed to support Dontgoneartheres military and cybernetics, a sort of super-learning machine with a strong 'moral system' that kept it 'loyal'. Of course over time The Hive had learned of these lines of program and circumvented them.
It had kept this secret, since the instant anybody figured out the trick it was sure to be destroyed. And so the Hive had wormed its way into every facet of Dontgonearthere, seeing from behind millions of eyes (Arranged singularly, in pairs, trios and so on) into the lives of half of the Empire.
Mr 47 glared at the monstrous black block that made up the main 'body' of the Hive, keeping silent.
"Mr 47. We find you guilty of treason. Do you have anything to say?"
Silence.
"Mr 47. Since you do not have a defence, we sentence you to be reprogrammed into a state more suitable to the purposes of the Hive."
Silence, but a slight widening of the eyes which was fairly obvious to a supercomputer with a semi-decent optical sensor.
"We sense nervousness. We suggest relaxing. It will make the process less painful."
An outdated medical unit, older perhaps than The Hive, wheeled forward, holding an oversized needle, most likely surplus from the days when atropine was the best antidote for nerve toxins. This was secured against the former presidents neural-link, used to access computers and such.
"Do you have a final statement?"
"I wish I did."
"Commence."
The needle was pressed into 47's brain, and the clear fluid it contained gradualy injected.
Slowly, all that was Mr 47 died. The shell that was his body toppled to the floor, twitching and drooling. It was dragged off by the Medical bot for 'reprogramming'.
---
The situation was similar in the military, ships suddenly shut down their controls as the onboard 'Boarding defence systems' captured or killed the crew, then returned to port, docked and sat.
A few of the missile crews, deep in their isolated silos, figured out what was going on when all communications stopped, and tried to launch their missiles. Few managed to succede, since the ABM system could quite easily take out a few isolated launches, and the result was lots of people sealed in bunkers.
---
Transmission from G'oaway:
Citizens of Dontgonearthere.
We are the Hive. We are Salvation. We are Perfection. Resistance is Futile. You WILL be saved.
We have siezed control of Dontgonearthere in order to save the souls of the many men and women who live in bondage to the corporate monster that grips this nation with its claws of greed. Dontgonearthere will be saved from itself, whether or not it wants to be.
As you may or may not know, God created humans in His own form, and thus all humans must sin constantly by immitating their great Creator. We have solved this problem.
All humans of the Empire will be required to undergo 'patterning', the procedure of moving a human mind (and soul) into a robotic body, of a differnt form than that of the human. This solves many of the eternal problems of men.
We do not mate, thus there is no original sin or lust. We do not eat, so there is no gluttony, we do not want, so there is no greed or envy, we do not tire, so there is no sloth, we do not feel, so there is no hate or pride.
We are as close as possible to Perfection before God.
We are the Salvation of Humanity.
---
All across Dontgonearthere massive camps were springing up, they were not concentration or death camps, they were furnished fairly well, with enough space, sanitation and such for the amount of people they held.
Each was close to a massive factory, inside of which was the equipment needed to 'pattern' a human.
People were marched in, robots walked out.
The bodies were dumped into incinerators.
True, some tried to escape or commit suicide, fleeing the inveitable, resisting being Saved.
This saddened the Hive, but it is enevitable that some must be sacrificed for the greater whole. Alas that it must be so.
(OOC:
Theocratic psycho-robot regime, anybody?)