Peacetank
Why? When they see me with my thick, welded skin and bullet-proof
armour, why do they point and ask each other; "What is it?" rather than
"Who is he?"? Do they believe that because I am constructed of
reinforced steel and because I am designed to destroy, that I lack
conscious behaviour? Do they believe that I am less capable of
processing human emotions than they are? Well, I don't blame them.
After all, it was humans like them that created me. They created me to
fight machines much like myself, because war is not a man's battle,
it's a man's game. The machines are the real soldiers, and almost all
of these empty shells that are out there on the battle filed have no
knowledge of why they're there. They don't even have the capacity to
learn why they're there. They have one purpose, to destroy anything
that crosses their paths.
I was made slightly different to the other machines. My creators
made me as an intended "super-weapon". They gave me the artificial
intelligence to search and destroy, but my creators were very narrow
minded. They did not notice that outside my one programmed purpose, I
held others. I could choose my targets, I could scope out as many or as
little as my artificially intelligent computer brain would choose. My
creators programmed me oblivious to the fact that they had created a
machine that could potentially analyse and understand emotion.
They had come to realise this shortly after the great war. Machines
against machines, the world torn in two, raging, determined to stand
triumphant as the greater of two evils. But the machines, created by
man, hellbent on destruction, eventually came around and turned on
their creators. All the world's people, suffering for what they've
done, to themselves, to each other, and to the mindless machines they
created to do their dirty work for them. Some would call it karma, the
natural order of the world bringing peace back into balance. All that
remained of the humans were a few small outposts, camped in the
outskirts of their abandoned cities. I feel that there would be nothing
left in this world, had the scientists not done one good deed before
they lost their life's work, this world would be nothing but dead
space, a karmic armageddon.
Throughout this war, I found it hard to follow the intentions of my
creators and destroy the hordes of unconscious machines that so
persistently tried to destroy me. From that first act of compassion, my
programs grew more and more complex, branching out like a wild tree. I
became a vigilante, a rogue soldier dedicated to peace. To disarm, but
not to destroy, to protect, to teach others that war is not the only
option. Whilst bullets whistled past my armoured frame, I tried to
learn more about my fellow machines as they tried so valiantly to
destroy me. I observed, I analysed, I ran tests, and I learned that
they were not like me at all. They could not be reprogrammed, they
could not be taught peace. The humans were so determined to destroy
each other, that only machines programmed upon pure hatred could ever
match their passion for war. So I fought to destroy these machines.
They did not deserve to live with such malice, so I worked out of
compassion, in their death I set them free from the most evil of
programming.
It was here and now, in the eventual doomsday of the Earth, it was
living in true hell, true dystopia, that the humans learned the meaning
of empathy. It took them long enough to realise my potential, to
realise my power. In the crumbling civilisations of the world, they
finally accepted me for the infinitely complex mechanism that I was,
and they took me into their laboratories, to pull together everything
they had, they stripped me down, exposed my hardwired brain and my
intricate programming. The warmongering had ceased, and at last, they
would use my computer brain for constructive purposes. However, I knew
nothing of their plans, my brain computer held no information of their
proposed future, they said nothing and showed me nothing until they cut
off my power supply and began the mechanical operation.
Approximately ten years later, electric life flowed through my brain
and awakened my senses. I was no longer a tank, no longer a war
machine, I was a guardian. Intelligence, I had developed an
intelligence far greater than I, or any human had expected. My eyes and
ears were everywhere, on every street corner, in every corn field,
under the ocean and earth, and high in the sky, across towns, cities,
countries, continents, I was graced with omnipresence, a watcher, a
guardian of the world. My brain had been replicated, expanded upon,
buried deep beneath the earth, massive computers, intertwined, bringing
about the largest ever artificial intelligence known to man. And it
didn't end there, machines were programmed onto my computers,
controlling the seemingly miniature operations that keeps everything
within the natural order. I had become a deity, the guardian of
guardians, a computer protector. I was one with the earth, god.
And once again, the scars of the world started to heal over, with my
many millions of eyes and ears and hands, I pieced together the world
like the people of the world pieced me together. My plans were
flawless, and the plans of my creators were flawless, yet there was one
thing that prevented the complete recovery of the earth, one thing that
needed to be done before the earth could once again reach perfection.
My creators wanted a machine that was completely in control, and they
wanted a machine that was intelligent enough to return the world to its
prime. And I wanted that too, but that one thing in the way was the
very thing that gave me energy and life. My people, my humans, my
creators, while they are blessed people, they cannot exist in harmony,
and they cannot exist in a perfect earth.
They were utterly devastated. Their plans were my plans, but they
could not be trusted when they were always incapable of complete self
control. I brought peace and perfection to the world by bringing the
human race to extinction. It was such a shame to wipe such a brilliant
race from existence, but they had achieved what they wanted, I had
achieved what I was programmed to do, but in doing so, I had become the
very thing I was created to be, a killing machine. I was no better than
the humans, I was a merciless machine, a computer on a terrible
mission, a tyrant god, and in my reign over the world, there was no
fluctuation, there was a sterile perfection throughout the land, yet it
was void of consciousness and intelligence. I accepted the burning
meteors to my brains as the sweetest of natural disasters. Maybe now, a
hundred thousand years after my rise to deity, maybe now that my
circuitry is broken and burned, maybe intelligence will return, and
maybe life will once again fluctuate and give birth to an imperfect
world, a world that can live and breathe in discordant harmony, in
infrequent bursts of warring and arguing, and maybe, without me, the
world can finally return to its natural order.
I made this statement as a reminder to the beings of the new world
order that they must not follow the same path as their successors, and
they must not let another mistake like me to prey on their
intelligence. I have been reduced to nothing more than electric memory,
and this last last statement must not be forgotten or overlooked. The
natural order of the world will once again come around. Sunrise,
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^<5%mo&FF%y-a*!Vj2B.(/ah@fg6e2G$5*****
****
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-End transmission
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-Initialising reboot
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