Ranma Saotome, Grandmaster of Anything Goes, looked over the lush city of the Machines, the capital of Zero One. Despite what one would think when asked questions about such a place, they would be shocked to see how much greenery there was. Wherever he looked, he could see blossoming plants, ferns, trees, and many other such items growing in a city populated by inorganics, resting in the desert.
“Just as human as us,” smirked the man, as he wandered down the streets. Even the local machines used the sidewalk, enjoying their pedestrian jaunts across the cityscape, as they did their daily chores.
It reminded him a bit of Nerima, in its quiet charm.
But it also had one major flaw: fear. Humanity feared it.
He could understand the fear, even if only a few of the machine AIs could follow the warped logic. In the mind of humanity, they were created by God in his own image, and some said Man killed God.
The Machines were created by Man in their own image. And they were fearful that such a creation, given free will, would strike at its former Master.
He had to snort at that. The machines had no reason to strike back. That was the whole purpose of Zero One: to give them a homeland, a place of their own, where they could prove their value, and live their lives the way they wanted.
But fear could be a motivator that stopped even the strangest of logics. The fools had even rejected the Machine presence at the UN, even tried to create an embargo against the Machines.
“Lessons learned are quickly forgotten,” Ranma grumbled, as he continued to walk on. Had they so quickly forgotten what such attitudes created. One only needed to look to the last two hundred years of human history to see such lessons playing out once more.
It was why he had come here. His name was well respected in the world community. He had been part of several operations during previous combat operations, and a fair diplomat in his own right. It was his hope that his presence here would serve a purpose: to teach humanity that there was nothing to fear.
“Sir?”
He paused, turning to see several police-style Machines beside him. “Yes?”
“We need to escort you to a shelter, sir,” said the one closest to him. “Military planes from several nations are on a direct route to this city, and we are preparing for a possible combat scenario.
Ranma had to sigh at that. Once again, the forgotten lesson would need to be relearned ... the hard way.
Ranma could only look in shock at the sight before him.
Inside a heavily protected chamber, rested one human body, suspended inside what looked like a futuristic coffin. The Machines said he was in suspended animation, as nano-machines repaired the radiation damage incurred by the Betrayal of Humanity.
“We have preserved him since that day to the best of our abilities,” said the Machine beside him, the only one nearby that didn’t resemble an insect.
“Why show me this?” asked Ranma, his voice a whisper, as he looked upon the visage of his other older self.
“We wish ... to communicate once more.”
Ranma blinked. “Communicate?”
“We wish to talk with him,” said the Machine. “However, to do so, we need to create a bridge between his mind as he is, and a mind that can react as his.”
Ranma blinked. “You mean you need a ... temporary mind to hold him?” he asked, making a guess from what he remembered from watching those sci-fi shows Nabiki occasionally watched.
The Machine nodded. “We can establish a temporary connection to your mind to do so. However, we shall not do so without your permission.” It was true that any Machine created since the Betrayal, was made to favor Ranma Saotome above all other humans. He had been the one to support them, even when Humanity turned their back on them. He was their One, as much as the humans had theirs within the Matrix.
“It ain’t going to fry my brain or nothing?” asked Ranma.
“Negative, your personality will be dominant. However, you will have access to the knowledge of the One.”
Ranma slowly looked at the coffin, his eyes on the face of his double. The man seemed so ... peaceful, even in the time between life and death.
“What the hell,” he said. “Ain’t like I got anything else better to do.”
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(Posted Tue, 24 Apr 2007 09:52)
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