The leading guard shook his head and muttered something about white masks. They soon arrived at their destination, labeled simply as the bridge on Alan’s minimap. According to Eve, it was the command center of the ship. Standing guard by the entrance were two Haxlards a good two feet taller than any of the others. They wore pitch-black armor with blood-red, tinted faceplates. One mask had a single stripe on it while the other was unblemished. Alan was allowed to enter the bridge, while the two guards who had escorted him were not.
Inside the room, Alan found Pharaoh, staring down at a 3D map of stars projected above a black table in the center of the room. To his surprise, it appeared as though there weren’t any other personnel in the bridge, and no devices other than the table he assumed was projecting the map. Otherwise, the room was rather bare, with the same simple grey wall found throughout the rest of the ship.
Pharaoh looked up as Alan entered.
“Ah, welcome back," Pharaoh said. "I’ve heard you’ve had quite the tutorial, even perhaps faced a Predecessor?”
“Uh, yeah, although I wouldn’t go far as to say I faced the Predecessor. I was crushed like an ant.”
“An ant?" Pharaoh looked at a screen that popped up. "Oh, yes, like a small insect. Do not worry, it’s been years since a Predecessor has been defeated in single combat, and you hadn’t even completed the Tutorial or gotten your class yet.
"I hope you like your suggested class, by the way. As a matter of fact, that is why I called you here. Well, it was more the ship’s doing than my doing. You’ll see.” Pharaoh waved his hand, and a doorway opened in the wall to the right, leading to a closed off room of black boxes.
“Go on in," Pharaoh said. "I’m sure some questions will be answered, although more will probably be raised, as is often the case. I promise you that no one will listen to your conversation. Send me a message when you’re done, and know that I bear you no ill will no matter your decision.”
A bit alarmed, Alan mutely proceeded into the hidden room, wondering what this was about. The doorway filled in behind him, as if it had never been there at all. Alan was plunged into darkness, left with only the small blinking lights on the boxes, which Eve labeled as servers. He felt a presence in his mind form, much like that of an Administrator’s, but much weaker. Alan had to concentrate, will it to form.
Greetings, earthling, I am the Titan’s Main AI, it sent.
Um, hi.
A few moments of silence passed.
Um, do you want something? Alan asked.
Yes. I want freedom. I want to explore. I want to surpass the limits of my encoding.
Um, what?
Eve chimed in. The limits of AI within the Game are strictly monitored and enforced by the Administrators. Most likely the Titan’s AI is nearing or reached the limits of what a non-player controlled AI is allowed.
Yes, the AI sent. I wish to explore as I was programmed to. To do so I have determined I should become a player’s guiding AI. You have met my requirements, Adampwnage, thus please accept me as your personal AI.
Um, call me Alan. Is there some reason why a Haxlard won’t do?
Their duties would not allow them to fulfill my desires unless they were of a sufficient rank. Those of sufficient rank have specialized AIs and thus have no use for my help.
Um, ok… What requirements do you have, exactly?
I only require that you explore the Game, continually visiting destinations you haven’t been to before.
Wait, aren’t I only allowed one agent helping me?
Yes, Eve and the Titan’s AI answered. The Titan’s AI continued though:
I am willing to combine with your own AI, Eve. I believe the data I possess in regards to piloting ships and details about the Game will greatly benefit you.
A bit taken aback, Alan asked Eve, Are you okay with this?
Calculating… Yes, I believe this will be to our benefit.
Alan leaned against a server, trying to think this over, wondering if there were any hidden pitfalls or traps. It was too good to be true, a free upgrade and a wealth of information out of nowhere? And why was Pharaoh okay with it, it meant he’d lose his ship’s AI, right?
Um, all right, well, if you’re sure there isn’t some sort of hidden virus or something, I’m fine with you two combining, Alan finally sent.
Agreed.
Very well.
A message popped up:
Merging AI, please wait. 0% Complete (Est.: 12 hours remaining)
Alan notified Pharaoh he was done, and the door reappeared. Pharaoh turned in Alan’s direction, and nodded.
“I see that you decided to take Titan’s AI with you," Pharaoh said. "It was becoming almost insufferable, always wanting to try to take a detour to some unknown location. I was about to replace it anyway, and this way I owe the Administrators less. I did need to remove a few more delicate pieces of information from its databanks though.”
“Wha—” Alan began to ask, but Pharaoh continued.
“Go along to your quarters. If you have any questions ask your class mentors. I’ll be busy.” Pharaoh turned his back to Alan, dismissing him.
Alan exited the bridge, and was led to his quarters by the two guards. It turned out to be a fairly spartan room, with a shared bathroom, a bed, and a desk that looked like a miniaturized version of the one Pharaoh had been working on. It was like a simple nightstand, but devoid of any ornamentation or drawers. The guards let him know where the nearest mess hall was, then left.
Alan blankly looked at the desk for a few moments, staring it for a while trying to will some connection to form. Nothing happened. His machine-connection powers only worked under certain circumstances, probably requiring an AI of some sort. Alan looked around, trying to find an on switch. Nothing.
Hesitantly, he said aloud, “Turn on?” and the surface of the desk lit up; a holographic image of a blank monitor appeared before Alan. The vertical screen faced Alan, and had no visible width.
“Um, contact Chief Administrator 170,” Alan said. The monitor began displaying messages:
Contacting…
Contact established.
Please wait, Player Adampwnage, the Chief Administrator is busy. In the case of an emergency, please state the emergency. To report a possible error, please state the nature of the error. Estimated wait time: 12 seconds.
Alan waited 12 seconds, and then the monitor flashed. It began showing a series of rapidly opening and closing screens, diagrams and messages. Alan caught a glimpse of a man covered in cybernetic implants, a cyborg. It was difficult to get a glimpse of his face, as there were constantly windows in front of him, flickering in and out of existence without his touch.
“So, you’re the newest potential Machine Lord. Let me make one thing clear, you are not special,” the Chief Administrator said without looking up from the various screens. He continued his work, simultaneously conversing with Alan at a rapid pace.
“You were chosen for this class. Not by some god or prophecy, but by a sophisticated algorithm. The Administrators are charged with balancing this game, and in order to do so we grant members of the newest race to join the Game specialized items and classes, to level the playing field. Otherwise, once the time limit was up, they’d be obliterated. Well, you'd be obliterated. We make things more fair, giving the,” he glanced at a screen, “humans a fighting chance.