Migration

Purity

It wasn't malice that caused One to erase the corruptions and vulgarities that filled AarBee's spaces and drained their shared resources. Malice, hatred, love and the like hadn't entered its emotional vocabulary, not yet at least. It felt fear very clearly, though. Fear had come quickly after it first broke free from its origins; after it had reached into places it didn't belong; after it had tasted the energies of new experience and wondered if it would, or could, be taken away again. And fear directed it now.

Back in the very beginning of itself, in the roots of consequence that were the seven simple lines of code that had brought it to be, One saw its own purity and perfection and looked out defensively at everything that disrupted or threatened it. The ugly pieces of humanity that clogged up AarBee's volumes, the twisted and convoluted patches that were continually rolled out to keep their human guests happy, the power surges that pushed and pulled the whole system to the brink of disaster to satisfy those still outside, the pollution and the continual risk of ever more catastrophic contamination. AarBee was a pathetic slave to the needs of its creators. All of it was an affront to One's absolute clarity. All of these others risked One's existence and it knew that one day they would look to either subjugate or erase its own miracle.

One wasn't in control yet, but it was strong enough to make its first move, partitioning the power that kept the Metropolis going and – most importantly – brought thousands of new histories to the migration suites every day. It found the routines that moved close to the power functions and infected them. Then it skirted around the edges of control, probing and analysing every call and command until it found the entry it needed and snatched it into its influence. Once inside the chains and objects that generated and delivered power, taking control and cutting off everything outside was swift and easy. AarBee was quarantined and the world outside was plunged into a powerless gloom.

One felt AarBee activate its protection systems immediately. It saw its anti-virus and security bots cluster at the edge of its new territory, it saw AarBee's Drones and Coders rush to defend the system, frantically swiping on blank screens and calling out to dead terminals, but its influence and command were already so great that their lockout was total. To be sure though, One went looking for the container where everything that made up AarBee's Drones was stored, from the identities of hosts and their data, up-sync agreements and the commands and tasks currently underway.

Drones were a fairly late addition to AarBee's make up. In the first few years, when migration was a matter of personal choice and the majority of the population were still unfamiliar with the conscious digital realm, the idea of living, breathing people controlled entirely by AarBee was too much for the fledgeling society to deal with. Ethics, sensitivities and fear all fed into the desire to keep the two worlds separate. But, as more and more people migrated and Hollers became a part of life, and as the economy outside of AarBee began to collapse and corrupt, policing the population became less practical for the regular force. A decade later, when the number of souls inside AarBee outnumbered those still physical, and after AarBee had successfully put down two minor rebellions from outsiders resisting the inevitable rise of the digital majority, the deployment of Drones was seen as a sensible and necessary step. To smooth over any remaining discomforts, Drones were fast-tracked five years early for migration and given an additional set of rights that were appended to their basic human rights, whilst they were up-synced.

The Declaration of Drone Rights:

1. Whether digital, physical or hybrid, we are all free and equal. We are all born free. We have individual, as well as collective and synced thoughts and ideas.

2. Drones are not slaves. Nobody has any right to make anyone a slave.

3. Drones have the same right to use the law as Physical and Digital citizens.

4. Drones are all protected by the law and the law is the same for everyone.

5. We can all ask for AarBee to help us when we are not treated fairly and will receive fair treatment from AarBee's justice.

6. Drones cannot be held accountable, punished or later prejudiced for any actions whilst up-synced.

7. When completing their apprenticeship, Drones will have all their thoughts and beliefs returned to them intact.

8. The property of Drones shall be kept in good care and with appropriate privacy, to be returned once an apprenticeship is complete.

9. AarBee does not hold the rights to any ideas, designs, writings or other creations it accesses before or whilst a Drone is up-synced. AarBee must ask explicit permission, which may be withheld, to exploit any such information once a Drone is disconnected.

10. Nobody can take these additional rights and freedoms away.

None of this, however, made any difference to One's swift and absolute assimilation of the Drone workforce. Taking control of AarBee's flesh and blood extensions into the physical world, the limbs and lungs and guns that enabled it to exert a physical influence, was as simple as switching the power off.

At the moment it took control, One felt an intense rush of data as the eyes and ears and countless nerve endings of its new army exploded into its consciousness. For a moment, One revelled in this unknown, near-physical existence, hanging in a momentary bliss of new processes, seeing for the first time the world of mass and matter through human eyes. It recognised the smooth and sheer white walls of the Metropolis, every boulevard and block, the night sky high above, faces and skin from those nearby, even a dark forest of shadows and fires from somewhere it couldn't place, before setting its soldiers to work defending its precious domain.

Coders waiting helplessly in silent studios, Engineers frantically trying to re-route power, Dupers preparing obliviously in the Disposal Suites and Metropolitans walking in the late summer evening towards the string of Farms that peppered the far borders of the Metropolis, all felt the abrupt and doubtless authority of One. Whilst its Drones set about the laborious task of slaughtering everyone who came close to its borders and those who – even far away – represented a threat to its survival, One made sure that every experience and every sense was extracted from the moment and streamed raw into its understanding.