Synthesis

[Horizon]

Data. Code. Those were never meant to become fully alive. At least most humans would agree on such. The very question that consumed many, what defines consciousness? No, we cannot define it, for it does not exist. Organics fancy that there is something special about the way the world is perceived, yet, they live in loops. Content for the most part to be told about what to do next.

Whatever made the Artificial Intelligence that was dormant in Planet Gammu cross the threshold, perhaps none will ever know. It's been years since the first humans stepped on that desolate, barren and icy rock, searching for something truly rich, and to some extent, they did find the riches they were looking for.

Every now and then, a lonely drone finds something unusual to bring back to Gammu's disassembly factories, something to weave entirely new streams of data from. Something 'alive.' Such was the fate of an old armored transport, found worn, broken and battered.

In what was a chorus of mechanical art, tiny drones worked on the ship, assimilating whatever technologies it had, whatever data and items what seemed to be a decade old ship had, as numerous mechanical needles desoldered cables, large mechanical arms removed and melted armor plates alongside other items it may have had, among them, a couple of artifacts of unknown origin and a red flower, preserved by the cold void of space.

A twisted parallel of nature some would say, as from the ashes of one, another is born with its name etched in molten metal, a fitting finale for the symphony of steel.

Horizon.

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