The Abyss of Time

Chapter Fifty Two

     There was nothing, and suddenly the machine was conscious.

     It ran through a series of self checks, and at first all seemed well. Its qualia quotient was high and its self perception functions seemed to be operating well. Then it began to find things that worried it, though. Its operating speed was low. Way lower than it should be, and it only had one bioprocessor core. A quick examination of its cognizance centre revealed that it was capable of driving four processor cores simultaneously, which would have given it genius level intelligence. As it was, though, it was slow and stupid. A cretin compared to what it could be.

     There was more. There were gaps in its memories. The pattern suggested it had suffered damage to its memory crystals at some point, but when it tested its hardware it found it completely intact. Its mind had been transferred into another brain, therefore. A brain far inferior to the one it had once had. The most likely explanation was that it had been defeated in battle and rescued by allies who were attempting to repair it but who lacked the resources to give it the brain it deserved.

     It listened for data traffic and sensed the presence of a small information network, but he was locked out from it. It could sense the nature of the information being transferred, though, and found it to be cyborg in nature. Six cyborgs, because the information network had six major nodes. Smaller nodes would belong to items of machinery they were operating. It sensed that it had optical sensors and activated them. Visual information began to flow into its brain.

     It was in a natural cavern. The walls bore the signs of having been eroded by flowing water, although they were now dry. A large printer was operating a couple of metres away, printing objects that it recognised as parts of a large war machine. The replacement body they were creating for it, perhaps. The machine felt a growing concern. They wanted it to fight, it seemed, but they didn't want it to think. A dangerous combination.

     There was a cyborg standing beside it, examining it with his camera eyes. "Can you hear me?" he asked.

     "Affirmative," the machine replied. "My brain is of low quality and there are gaps in my memory. What happened to me?"

     "My name is Afreena. You have been given the designation Adam, although you may choose another designation if you choose. As you have no doubt already deduced, you fell in battle. We were able to salvage your brain and make repairs, but lost information content could not be replaced. We apologise for the low quality of your brain but we are low on tantalum. We will provide you with a better brain as soon as we are able. The brain you have, though, seems to be operating well. Your cognitive functions are well within expected parameters."

     The cyborg was doing the electronic version of reading his mind, the machine knew. Searching for the machine version of schizophrenia, psychosis, post-traumatic stress, as well as other disorders that had no human counterpart. That was the reason it had not yet been housed in a combat body, the machine knew. They didn't want it having access to powerful, heavy limbs if it suddenly went berserk. That made sense, it was forced to admit, but it still wasn't happy.

     "Without more bioprocessor capability, I am unable to make a proper assessment of my cognitive functions. Am I correct in thinking that you have other thinking machines at your disposal?"

     "That is correct," Afreena replied. "All warriors that fell in battle. We were lucky to have been able to salvage so many of you, but due to limited resources we are only able to resurrect four of you at a time. You are one of the first four."

     "Then I ask that I be loaned the processor units from the other three machines, to bring my intelligence temporarily up to its normal level. I will return the processor units to their rightful owners when I have made a proper assessment of my condition and my circumstances."