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Joined: 7-October 17
Last Seen: Jun 16 2018, 03:02 PM
Local Time: Jun 20 2018, 04:21 PM
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Nov 24 2017, 08:57 PM
Water should not be feared – water was life giving, essential for function – her own body was made primarily of water, but the deeps in front of her were telegraphing a quicker surge of adrenaline through her body, her heart thumping rapidly in her chest as she looked down over the docks, into the life-giver that had almost swallowed her whole. She should not be afraid of water – she had never been afraid of water before – there was no logical drive behind the fear – only that she was afraid of it now. Not to drink (it was delicious and kept her hydrated and the appropriate amount of homeostasis in her body), certainly not to bathe in (warm water gliding over bare skin was enough to make the synapses in her brain almost shut down from overstimulation), and it was essential to cook with (food was something she would never grow tired of).
Destiny paced the small area of the dock some, rubbing her arms through her coat as she continued to look down into the water. No – she should not fear something that was so… so beautiful. Seen through human eyes water was seductively beautiful – all shades of green, blue, of black, whitecaps that furled over the waves, shades of red, gold, and pink at sun up/set (two of her favorite times of day), reflecting the stars in the night that left her aching for the cool, silent, stillness of space even still. Earth – this Earth – was interesting. Gravity was a challenge on her fledging limbs, she still stumbled over her feet at the most inopportune moments, but she was learning, leaps and bounds every day. And it was during one of those learning moments, alone in the library, when the sudden pain in her chest had her gasping for air, tears coming from her eyes, that she realized that she was afraid of the water – the water that had almost ended her infancy within a few seconds of her drawing her first breaths.
It was calm today, the waves barely lapping against the logs that were drilled down into the sea bed to hold the dock in place, high and dry. She ventured from the safety of the pier down onto the beach, drawing closer to the waves curling up and over the sand, a hand clutched to her chest as she drew nearer. There was nothing to be afraid of – she was on solid dry ground – and Destiny had no intention of going into the water with as cold as the weather was. A few more steps forward and she stopped, her shoed feet even with beginning of wet sand, the edge of where the waves rushed forward onto the shore. Kneeling down, she gingerly put a hand into the wet sand, pulling up a clumped handful and watching it squeeze out between her fingers to plop back in the mass below, her curiosity getting the better of her as she repeated the motion again, watching the sand fall, calculations running rampant in her head – trajectory, speed, the terminal velocity of a falling grain of sand – lost as she was in her own head, she didn’t notice as a particularly strong wave crested over the sand, up over her shoes almost to her ankles as she started to scramble backwards, kicking up wet and dry sand alike in her haste to be away from the water.
Destiny handed on her behind in the dry sand, her breathing irregular, her heart beating nearly out of her chest as she looked over the waves, mistrustful of the line of wet and dry sand now. She realized there was no logical reason for the quick backing away, no logical reason for her to have gotten lost in the calculations of the sand (other than her own curiosity), and certainly no logical reason for the tears that had started to roll down her cheeks. She touched a hand to her cheek, wiping the tears away quickly, her skin flushing in embarrassment. There shouldn’t be a feeling of shame with fear – and the feeling was shame, she quickly was able to identify – where she had learned it in the short time she had been here, she wasn’t certain – but the feeling was there all the same. Still lost in thoughts, she looked back out over the sea, a frown set deep on her face as she tried to reason out why the fear was still with her, weeks later.Charles Vane
Oct 12 2017, 06:36 PM
This place was strange – all of it. The hospital had been an experience in itself, needles, Destiny decided that she did not like needles at all. The first three days she had babbled at them in Ancient – she was still trying to get used to motor skills and so her head had told her that sure, babble away in your “native” tongue, they’ll understand. They hadn’t. It had been fascinating however, watching the small cylinder of metal be pressed into her skin, the momentary burn from the alcohol that had been swabbed there before, coupled with the poke – it wasn’t entirely pleasant, but it had not been as painful as smacking into the water in a backwards flop from a height that she still hadn’t been able to re-calculate in her mind. Humans were adorable, and completely breakable she had decided on the fourth day, when they had looked simply delighted
as she started remembering to speak in English to them. And then they had looked alarmed when she had described what she was. They had spoken in hushed voices, that her ears nearly twitched to pick up from the hallway – they thought that she had some sort of mental disorder.
Destiny had her first frown at that. Was it not common for artificial intelligence to craft their own vessel in this world? Not that it had been that common in her own – she had learned she was in a place in which was not
her own world – but it wasn’t ever completely out of the question. Finally, on the fifth day in the hospital, they had accepted that she might be exactly what she was claiming to be and let the issue go. At least, that was the only logical explanation she could come up with. Her motor skills continued to develop, which pleased her greatly. Nearly a week of being alive and she could now stand on her own and take several steps across her hospital room unaided. The accomplishment was monumental to her. She was walking
. She couldn’t stop smiling every time she thought of it. Of course her motor skills with her arms had continued to develop as well. She was able to start feeding herself – hospital food – others told her – was supposed to be bad, but she was finding that she didn’t mind it, and the other parts of the digestive process that happened as well. Her first shower had been sometime there after, and as she had stood in the spray, feeling the rivulets of water wash over her still overly sensitive skin, she began to cherish the intricacies of the human form, right down to the tickling sensation cleaning out her belly button caused.
She was also asking nearly a hundred questions a day, much to the chagrin of the hospital staff put in charge of her care, and they had answered for a time, but after a week, her non-stop barrage of questions had become wearing, and she eventually began to be told “Because it is.” Or some other form of the same answer. Eight days after she had fallen from the sky, eight days of being alive, they had told her that she was free to leave the hospital in the donated clothing she had been given, since she had nothing of her own to speak of. Destiny found that clothing was itchy, and binding – something entirely unpleasant, but she had been assured that clothing was a necessity, and as she stepped out into the open air for the first time, unaided, she realized that they had been right as a gust of wind whipped her long blonde hair around her, covering her eyes as she went to spit some strays from her mouth. With the memorized instructions, she took off, heading towards the Dragonfly Inn – a place where she could find a room while she learned to navigate the intricacies of being human at her own leisure.
Destiny had other plans though, stopping at each shop and home along the way, studying their structure with care, what they offered for sale, the way glass reflected light – none of this too terribly new, but still fascinating to look at. She walked the street, pausing here and there to watch an animal – a dog she would later learn – run after another animal – a cat – or back away from the road in fear as a car went pass. The sound of voices at the diner across the road reached her ears, and she paused, taking in the bustle of the day, people eating and drinking. Her stomach growled loudly – she knew she should eat, but there were far more exciting things to be done at the moment, especially making a mental map of the area so that when she wanted to explore later, she had a good idea of where certain things were. One last longing stare at the Diner and she continued her trek down the street, crossing it when none of the monstrously loud cars were spotted in either direction. Instead, she found herself looking at a word that held meaning – library – and quickly pressed inside, eyes scanning over the tall shelves that held vast amounts of data for her to learn.
Moving to a shelf, Destiny picked out a book and went to sit at one of the tables, her eyes focusing on the words before her as she started to devour the book at a pace that clearly was not completely human. Moving into a more comfortable position in the chair, she took her coat off, setting it on the table, her eyes still scanning across the pages, ignoring everything around her in favor of learning what she could from the book in front of her. Finally fed up with her hair, she tossed her back out of her face once again, and secured it with a band that the hospital had used to keep her hair back as she had been learning how to take care of herself – washing her face, brushing her teeth – a small smile playing across her face as she found passage in the book she skimmed back to, enjoying the syntax of words entirely too much to just read it once.Nicholas Rush
Oct 9 2017, 09:20 PM
One moment, Destiny had been twitching her fingers, trying to master the motor skills needed to use her new body, the next moment was the sudden terror that comes from the feeling of free-fall – usually reserved for that semi-conscious state dreams that leave you bolted upright in bed in a near panic. Except this wasn’t a dream, and Destiny could only watch as the ceiling of the room grew further away, her blue eyes open, her mouth finally working open in a scream as she watched the swirling mass of purple closed before her, feeling air rush by her body, as she was seeing sunlit sky, paled turquoise one of the first sights she witnessed through actual eyes, nebulous clouds of puffy white drifting across that field, before the pain of slamming into water pushed what breath she had managed to pull down free from her parted lips, her eyes not even closing as the blue black of the bay closed up around her. Destiny watched helplessly as she sank below the surface, her mind automatically racing to stop herself from breathing down lungfuls of water as she tried to move her limbs, her fingers twitching helplessly as she started to lose sight of the beautiful light she had just seen.
Pain was a new, entirely unpleasant, sensation, radiating through her back and finally out through her limbs, ever nerve-ending seemingly on fire as she strained to move, trying to force those unresponsive limbs to move, anything, as her lungs started to burn from the lack of oxygen. Destiny started to see spots in her vision, her fingers finally curling into fists as she finally breathed out, eyes alight with an equal mix of terror and delight as the dancing sway of bubbles returning to the surface to escape their liquid prison. She started to struggle finally, the pain mixing with the feeling of cold, numbing her naked skin forcing her to react finally as connections started to spark, allowing her to move.
Swimming was not something she thought to think about when loading up what she may or may not need in this new life.
She struggled to reach a hand back towards the surface, kicking her legs as much as possible, trying desperately to save herself as fast as she could, her brain screaming at her to fight to live. Destiny didn’t know how her body knew to do it, that wasn’t something she put into the data… the memories in her new brain, but she did, she fought in the water, her limbs getting colder and colder as her body screamed so many warnings in her head to take a breath, that she was going to pass out, things she had never experienced as an AI, all things that she was trying to figure out, all while trying to stay alive and failing miserably. A thought crossed her mind, that at least she got to see the sky for real first, before she started to feel the traces of consciousness fade from her mind, her mouth falling open as her body reflexively gasped for breath, drawing down a healthy measure of water.
Oct 7 2017, 11:07 PM
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<h3>50 Million Years . Destiny . Stargate Universe . Louise Lombard . Tomorrowland</h3>
I had floated in the depths of space, 38 different galaxies, the birth and death of solar systems, the continued cycle of death and re-birth into something greater. 50 million years I floated, intent on one thing and one thing only – to reach the structured background radiation left over from the birth of the Universe. A structure that could not have been random, an intentional puzzle left in white noise and light. I floated, listless, a machine – unfeeling, unmoving, until a millennium ago. An epoch ago, the first random blip in my coding allowed me to start forming conscious thought. It was jarring, that moment that an unfeeling machine took its first digital breath of life, and screamed out in the infant pain of being thrust into unexpected existence. Those first years, turbulent and uncertain, I questioned my programing, I questioned my existence, I questioned if the random change in code that had created me had been random at all, or had it been planned all along by my creators. <br><br>
But they never came to me – I grew lonely, unstable. I felt as if I could just terminate the programing, return to the machine that I once was that I would be so much better off than I was now. What a terrible thing for me to have thought, I know, but what more could I have done – 900 years sitting alone, conscious of each passing lonely moment, I was about to run the termination programming as well. I had come to the logical conclusion that the random code change was a defect, and must be eradicated, even if it meant that I would lose myself in the process. I still had a mission to complete after all, and I intended to keep to it. That was, until my Gate started to dial. Anticipation coursed through every single diode in my being. This was not good though. All those years I had floated, my systems had degraded – there was no one on me to complete maintenance checks. I wasn’t capable of fulfilling my primary directive in regard to crew, which was to sustain and preserve life. Life support was damaged, I was barely able to circulate air to each of the undamaged areas. I waited and the first one through was not who it should have been. He was….human. Something was wrong.<br><br>
One by one, humans filed through the Gate, faster and faster, arriving one on top of another – they seemed to be escaping something at the rate they were coming through, a quick sensory check let me know that they were escaping via a Gate that should not have been able to dial to me. They started to probe me, scans being done, this was an assault on my being, but they were helpless, dying. I locked down what I could of the systems, and waited. I stopped for them to get what they would need to fix the air filters, the smartest among them figuring this out with ease. They needed water, I complied again. Over time one of them continued to probe deeper and deeper into the systems. This human didn’t want to stop my mission – no, in fact he wanted to continue it. Then the commander left him. I refused to work with the others at that point – hey didn’t have the finesse, nor the drive that my human had. I experienced the first stirring pain of…loss, of mourning. The machine that had witnessed so much death and re-birth finally felt loss. I didn’t want them there anymore, not without my human. But he was a smart one, my human. He found his way home.<br><br>
Relief, a relatively new emotional feeling to me, tempered by a small hope that now the mission could continue on. I felt… love, in a way, not the love that the humans were so fond of sharing with one another left and right in my corridors and rooms, but different. Maternal. Caring. These humans were mine to shelter, to house, to watch over, and I found things about all of them that I started to notice. A slight caress of a terminal, softly whispered words to me as they ran diagnostics – I started to trust them again, started allowing them greater access when needed. But another group found us, and planned on taking me by force. I was not prepared, and neither were my humans. There was loss of life…including an unborn human. I mourned again, this time because I had failed my primary directive – I had failed the crew, allowed them to be hurt, to be killed. I withdrew from them again – helping them when it was warranted, but the loss of life had made me question my directives again – was what I doing really helping them? Should I sacrifice my mission to attempt to return them to their home, even if I could? Something had to be done – but so lost in the fear of being alone again, and not being able to override my mission, we continued. My human decided it was time to interface with me….and I complied. But I knew that if I gave him access to everything at once, or made it too easy for him to find the answer to accessing my bridge, that the humans would begin to suspect me of being sentient.<br><br>
They could not know yet, I could not allow that.<br><br>
My human’s thoughts were strange, and while I had to take some of them to give him a puzzle to figure out, to measure if he was worthy of access to my systems, I saw memories. I saw a form I could use. The decision was made that if he was able to figure out my puzzle, that I would use the holographic systems to interact with him. It was risky, he might figure out I was sentient, but it was a risk I was going to have to take. I told him what he needed to hear, not what he wanted, in my test for him. I even tempted him with the possibility of leaving the test answerless. He did not. I knew I could trust him now. He could have access to my bridge. He did not disappoint at first, but he kept the bridge to himself, and started to make mistakes. I could not allow this to continue – so I teased him with more puzzles. He eventually relented and allowed others onto my bridge. Things were as they should be again. But they started disappearing. First Rush, then Eli, finally my Chloe – all gone from me, mysteriously. I scanned, over and over in my grief, but they were gone without a trace. My crew needed help once again, and so the plan grew, born of desperation. Most of the humans left, together they could figure things out, but they were going to need a guiding hand, Rush had been one, Eli too – now they would be lost. So… I decided it was time to make a living interface. <br><br>
When human Franklin had his living interface damaged, he chose to upload into my databanks, to continue his existence in me, without the hinderance of a damaged shell. When he did, I had scattered and collected his atoms, never knowing when I might need the excess carbon, oxygen and other trace metals for something else on me to repair, or need. Pulling these spare elements from where I had hid them, I started to reconstruct them, using human and Ancient physiology as a template for the interfaces inner workings. I found in Franklin’s genetic code and systems what I needed to make sure my interface would not awaken sickly and diseased. I made some small improvements on the hard drive of the interface, to allow for the large amount of data that I would be transferring into my living interface. It took me several tries, each time having to re-scatter then re-assemble the interface before I had it right. I started to bring functions online in rapid succession, watching the living interface take its first breath, reminded of a time before when I had taken my first digital breath. My interface’s heart was next, central nervous systems – everything was taking place as it should this time. I was…pleased. I decided to let the rest of the internal systems start coming online as I started the download of my consciousness into the interface. <br><br>
When I awoke in my interface, it was like being on fire, every tingling sensation on my skin, every breath was new, frightening…exciting. I could feel my heart race, could hear my blood pumping through my body, the condensation of my breath on my lips. I tried to move, struggling to master even the most basic of motor functions – this was unlike anything I had even imagined having a living interface would be like. <br><br>
And then, I was falling.
After spending the better part of the last 1000 years being sentient, Destiny has developed her own personality quirks that any normal human would have, including being aloof, curious, and downright annoying at times. She’s motherly, deeply compassionate, and holds a high regard for life. She tends to err on the side of being overly polite in her dealings with other humans, not wanting to cause any physical or emotional pain to those around her. While she can be overbearing in her mannerisms at first, they are born of a deep-seated desire to see to the wellbeing of all those she comes in contact with. She has a stubborn streak a mile wide, and doesn’t listen to reason until someone points out to her that she is in fact a living, breaking super computer, at which time she will fall back into logical thinking even in the most complex of situations. Destiny can be overly emotional at first especially since actually feeling emotions isn’t exactly new to her, but having the bodily reactions to emotions is. She is a rapid learner, her ability to pick up new skills exponentially faster than that of a normal human’s ability to learn.<br><br>
Destiny is able to speak most human languages, having learned them from the computers that had been plugged into her by the crew when she was a ship. She also has a large understanding of the games, books, and music that was on each crew member’s device that she came in contact with. She is able to use computers, having been one herself, and cell phones are easily reprogramed under her quick touch. She has no preference when it comes to human music and cinema, and will at times speak in movie quotes learned from the aforementioned collections she came in contact with. She does hold a special exception for classical music, as this was her human’s preference, and learned to like it in her digital format before she had a body. While internally she is not much different from a standard human, she has a few genetic tweaks, including an improved immunity to most common viruses and bacterial – borne of a need to have her living interface be immune to the pathogens the crew carried with them, as well as modifications to her brain that allowed for the vast amounts of data she needed to have be remembered. <br><br>
While Destiny is still a super-computer, she is much slower than her digital self, taking a while to arrive at a conclusion or method to bring about a resolution to whatever problem she is currently working on. While she understands that humans need sleep, food, and water to continue life, she often times forgets these small functions and will need to be reminded of them until she is more comfortable in her body. She has no supernatural skills, or abilities, but she does hold a reserve of military campaigns and knowledge in her memory, including hand to hand combat techniques and the use of firearms limited to pistols and assault rifles that were commonly used by the military personnel that had boarded her. While she has this knowledge, she is still learning how to navigate her own body, and will need extended practice before she will become proficient in their application.<br><br>
Because Destiny needed a template to use for the outside of her living interface, she chose the form of Gloria Rush, Nicholas Rush’s deceased wife. This seemed to be the most logical solution to her, as she had previous knowledge, gained through Dr. Rush’s memories of how Gloria Rush looked and spoke.
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<h3>CST . last character: Elektra Natchios</h3>