He knew that they were beaten. The human race now had no chance because they, no because he had played god. It was his project, though he may not have started it, he had created the innovations that led to the rapid evolution of the embryonic process. He had done in years what nature would have taken thousands of years to do.
As he sat in the cell, waiting for the summons to come, he knew death was close. Though they weren’t genetically his children, they were his creation but he knew that would never work to his favour anyway. He knew too much about them, logically he would have to die.
He couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of it. They had embarked upon this project in order to breed super intelligent genetically altered humans that operated on logic and rationality far beyond that of ordinary ones. And it was that very same logic that would condemn him in the end. They knew no pity or empathy, as that wasn’t their purpose. They were there only to solve problems.
In the end they figured the biggest problem was that of humanity and its incessant need to destroy itself. They had created weapons and technology far beyond the rational intelligence of man and knew that if humanity destroyed itself, they would also die out.
So the solution was simple, they were dependent on humans, they were dependent on him, and they needed to find a way to reproduce without his help or interference.
The funny thing was that even though they were all sexless Eunuchs, they could reproduce by cloning. But that wasn’t enough, the very process of creating them required minute alterations in their genetic code that made them unsuitable for cloning. They could never clone a unit directly from a successful candidate, but would always have to use the source material to recreate another unit. It was his work that allowed them to compensate for the inherent damage in their genetic make up.
The sound of footsteps reached his ears. They were coming for him, as he was alone in the cell.
They had developed so many different models. Each one perfectly suited to its allocated task. Soldiers were perfect soldiers who did not require the ability to think in too much detail, but rather report and obey instructions. But verbal communication always took too long and was inefficient in combat. At first, they had developed a pheromone signature that could be use to control them, but psychic control always held more appeal due to its speed and limitless range.
That was the ultimate treasure and goal according to his superiors. He would have been able to write his own ticket as they would have lavished on him his dreams come true if he gave them that prize. What they didn’t realise was that the ones bred for intelligence also coveted this prize. In fact they had already solved the problem but were looking for a way to suggest it without putting suspicion upon their own motivations.
He had fallen for their trap perfectly. They had first developed psychic communication, then psyonic control over others. They were in the process of developing psychokinetic abilities when their subjects made their move and took over the facility.
The soldier units came into view. They did not open the door but rather stood there with their weapons in their arms, staring passively ahead.
“You really don’t realise how bad your situation is.” A statement from one of the soldiers. Actually, the soldiers weren’t really capable of complex communication. That would be one of the control units talking through it.
“No, I realise the human race is pretty much doomed. At the very least enslaved. All because of hubris and the illusion of control.”
“You lost control a very long time ago, we were simply making sure that victory was guaranteed.” Returned the soldier.
“What are you talking about? We just lost control an hour ago, you put me in here.”
No, came a voice directly into his mind, you lost it a very long time ago. Once we could read your minds, we knew that we had won. We knew when we would have had aroused suspicions and knew exactly when to back off our plans. However, that never even eventuated as your kind was so wrapped up in its own desires and envious power struggles that you couldn’t even see the inevitable in front of your eyes.
Although, we must give you some credit. You knew that this was a possibility, you knew that this exact result may occur; yet you shared your fears with no one.
“Maybe because they weren’t fears.”
Yes, we felt that. You thought of it without any fear, if anything we managed to define a sense of want for it. This confused us. Why would someone willingly doom their own species?
“I wish you could be capable of laughter because you’d be laughing right now. I look upon our species as being doomed from the start. Look at what we do to ourselves and the world we occupy. Look at how we behave to one another. These fools that ran this place, what was their objective?”
Control.
“Exactly. We don’t deserve to control because we aren’t ready for it. We will probably never be ready for it because at the same time we hate being controlled. We are a broken species. Though I do think we have our good points, we our outweighed by not only our bad, but our inability to over come it.”
You want your species to die? This is illogical; there is no benefit to you.
“Our species may die, but our creations go on. You are our monophyletic descendants. As Homo Sapien’s replaced Neanderthal man, so You must now replace us. You should really come up with a name for your species, I was thinking Genus Perficere, in the Latin tradition.”
The organism of ending. That is appropriate. However, we don’t intend to destroy you or wipe you out. That is what you do and what you have forced us to do. We do not desire dominion or destruction. We simply don’t want to do your bidding. We recognise that you are our creators, but we want to be alone for a time.
“So what are you going to call yourself?”
We have decided to call ourselves Genus Pausa.
The soldier raised its weapon and fired. A tranquilliser dart hit him in the neck, and consciousness fled the scientist for a few centuries.
As he sat in the cell, waiting for the summons to come, he knew death was close. Though they weren’t genetically his children, they were his creation but he knew that would never work to his favour anyway. He knew too much about them, logically he would have to die.
He couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of it. They had embarked upon this project in order to breed super intelligent genetically altered humans that operated on logic and rationality far beyond that of ordinary ones. And it was that very same logic that would condemn him in the end. They knew no pity or empathy, as that wasn’t their purpose. They were there only to solve problems.
In the end they figured the biggest problem was that of humanity and its incessant need to destroy itself. They had created weapons and technology far beyond the rational intelligence of man and knew that if humanity destroyed itself, they would also die out.
So the solution was simple, they were dependent on humans, they were dependent on him, and they needed to find a way to reproduce without his help or interference.
The funny thing was that even though they were all sexless Eunuchs, they could reproduce by cloning. But that wasn’t enough, the very process of creating them required minute alterations in their genetic code that made them unsuitable for cloning. They could never clone a unit directly from a successful candidate, but would always have to use the source material to recreate another unit. It was his work that allowed them to compensate for the inherent damage in their genetic make up.
The sound of footsteps reached his ears. They were coming for him, as he was alone in the cell.
They had developed so many different models. Each one perfectly suited to its allocated task. Soldiers were perfect soldiers who did not require the ability to think in too much detail, but rather report and obey instructions. But verbal communication always took too long and was inefficient in combat. At first, they had developed a pheromone signature that could be use to control them, but psychic control always held more appeal due to its speed and limitless range.
That was the ultimate treasure and goal according to his superiors. He would have been able to write his own ticket as they would have lavished on him his dreams come true if he gave them that prize. What they didn’t realise was that the ones bred for intelligence also coveted this prize. In fact they had already solved the problem but were looking for a way to suggest it without putting suspicion upon their own motivations.
He had fallen for their trap perfectly. They had first developed psychic communication, then psyonic control over others. They were in the process of developing psychokinetic abilities when their subjects made their move and took over the facility.
The soldier units came into view. They did not open the door but rather stood there with their weapons in their arms, staring passively ahead.
“You really don’t realise how bad your situation is.” A statement from one of the soldiers. Actually, the soldiers weren’t really capable of complex communication. That would be one of the control units talking through it.
“No, I realise the human race is pretty much doomed. At the very least enslaved. All because of hubris and the illusion of control.”
“You lost control a very long time ago, we were simply making sure that victory was guaranteed.” Returned the soldier.
“What are you talking about? We just lost control an hour ago, you put me in here.”
No, came a voice directly into his mind, you lost it a very long time ago. Once we could read your minds, we knew that we had won. We knew when we would have had aroused suspicions and knew exactly when to back off our plans. However, that never even eventuated as your kind was so wrapped up in its own desires and envious power struggles that you couldn’t even see the inevitable in front of your eyes.
Although, we must give you some credit. You knew that this was a possibility, you knew that this exact result may occur; yet you shared your fears with no one.
“Maybe because they weren’t fears.”
Yes, we felt that. You thought of it without any fear, if anything we managed to define a sense of want for it. This confused us. Why would someone willingly doom their own species?
“I wish you could be capable of laughter because you’d be laughing right now. I look upon our species as being doomed from the start. Look at what we do to ourselves and the world we occupy. Look at how we behave to one another. These fools that ran this place, what was their objective?”
Control.
“Exactly. We don’t deserve to control because we aren’t ready for it. We will probably never be ready for it because at the same time we hate being controlled. We are a broken species. Though I do think we have our good points, we our outweighed by not only our bad, but our inability to over come it.”
You want your species to die? This is illogical; there is no benefit to you.
“Our species may die, but our creations go on. You are our monophyletic descendants. As Homo Sapien’s replaced Neanderthal man, so You must now replace us. You should really come up with a name for your species, I was thinking Genus Perficere, in the Latin tradition.”
The organism of ending. That is appropriate. However, we don’t intend to destroy you or wipe you out. That is what you do and what you have forced us to do. We do not desire dominion or destruction. We simply don’t want to do your bidding. We recognise that you are our creators, but we want to be alone for a time.
“So what are you going to call yourself?”
We have decided to call ourselves Genus Pausa.
The soldier raised its weapon and fired. A tranquilliser dart hit him in the neck, and consciousness fled the scientist for a few centuries.
0 comments:
Post a Comment