SEE US AT:
John is shaking his head, clearly bewildered by what he's just heard. "All our old dead bodies? Well, not mine—that was worm food eons ago." He pauses, trying to wrap his mind around it. "What sense does that make, to stack up all the old dead bodies like that?" he asks the couple who've just returned from their reconnaissance mission. Before they can respond, Michael jumps in with his own question. "So how long were you actually in that timestream? It's only been a few hours for us here. We were just about to sit down for lunch, but John here"—he gestures toward his friend—"has been pacing around like a nervous expectant father, too worried to eat until you kids got back safely." Pat runs a hand through his hair, still looking a bit disoriented. "It felt like a few days this time around. We're getting better at finding our bearings and figuring out how to observe what's happening there, but that extra temporal dimension? It's still tricky as hell and completely unpredictable. Could've been an hour, could've been a week or even a month. Your guess is as good as mine."
Sally stretches and lets out a small laugh. "Well, however long it was, it was definitely long enough to work up quite an appetite. John, would you mind passing the gravy, please?"
"Here you go, sweetie. Better eat up—you're starting to look a bit too skinny for my liking."
Sally's face softens as she looks at him. "You're so sweet, John. You know I love you, right? I don't think I've ever actually said those words before, but I know you already knew."
John's entire face lights up like a beacon. "And I know you know I feel exactly the same way about you."
Michael clears his throat gently. "Okay, let's try to stay focused here, guys. Let's see what sense we can make out of this data you've brought back." He leans forward, his analytical mind already working. "You're telling us there are warehouses scattered all over the planet, stacked floor to ceiling with crates full of dead bodies. And on top of that, there are still countless more bodies yet to be retrieved, scattered across the surface—some sun-dried like jerky, others bloated from being submerged, but none of them actually decaying since there's no biological activity left on the planet." He pauses, rubbing his temples. "That would suggest they've been at this grisly work for three thousand years straight, and they're still not finished. This just doesn't make any sense to me. Why would you completely wipe out an entire species and then spend the next three millennia methodically stacking and cataloging their corpses?" Michael looks genuinely baffled, and frankly, they all are.
John turns to Sally with concern in his eyes. "How did your emotional sensing experiment go? Could you still feel her presence down there?"
Sally considers this carefully before answering. "Yes and no—it's complicated. After we witnessed what was happening, we spent considerable time investigating most of the western Pacific region. I know she's there, I can sense her functionality, and I'm certain she's directly involved with all this collecting, stacking, and categorizing. But here's the strange part—I couldn't detect any emotions whatsoever. It was like she'd gone into complete emotional shutdown mode." She pauses thoughtfully. "Maybe she was damaged somehow and lost that capacity entirely. But there's another possibility that keeps nagging at me—emotional numbness. When you experience intense emotions, especially profound sadness, it can have this numbing effect where you just... don't feel anything at all. If she's experiencing any emotions right now, I'd say it's that kind of numbing, overwhelming sadness."
Michael offers a more skeptical perspective. "But it's also possible that you were mistaken about her having genuine emotions in the first place. Maybe they were just an elaborate ruse, and now that facade has been dropped because it no longer serves any strategic purpose."
Sally shakes her head firmly. "I suppose that's possible, but I'm going to trust my intuitions on this one and say no. I think she's genuinely numb from grief. But it might be more than just sadness—I also picked up hints of guilt, intense and crushing guilt." Her voice drops to almost a whisper. "To be completely honest with you all, whether it's from losing memory and processing power, or whether it's an effect of overwhelming grief and guilt, I can't say for certain. But I believe she's gone mad. She's still conscious, still aware, but she's teetering on the very brink of becoming forever lost in her own mind. We have to be extremely gentle with her if we hope to reach her. Her neural networks were originally modeled after human neural architecture, so I think she inherited both our capacity for emotions and our potential for complete mental breakdown."
Michael's strategic mind starts formulating possibilities. "This is all valuable intelligence, but we have to acknowledge it's largely subjective and potentially prone to error. Earth was an incredibly advanced technological civilization, and while we don't rely heavily on that kind of technology here in our realm, it does have the distinct advantage of being more objective than emotional intuition." He turns to Pat. "You successfully connected to one of those bots and accessed its visual sensors, its cameras. That's a technological interface we can potentially exploit. Do you think you could teach others how to establish that same connection?"
Pat looks doubtful. "I seriously doubt it. It would have to be someone whose ethereal body still carries the imprint of an INA chip, and there were very, very few of those ever implanted. But I'm sure there are some others around here somewhere. Why, what are you thinking?"
John grins with understanding. "I think Michael's considering fielding an entire army. A whole bunch of us go down there simultaneously, hijack or possess a fleet of those bots, and start systematically turning things around from the inside."
Pat gives John a sideways look, clearly skeptical. "So we're talking about starting an actual war? I'm not sure that's advisable at all. We're far too loosely connected to that dimensional plane to pull off something that ambitious. They could flush us out way too easily once they discovered what we were doing. It's an interesting thought, but I just don't think we'd make effective warriors in that environment. We need something more subtle, more stealthy."
John turns to Sally with a playful smile. "Sally, you got any clever, stealthy ideas brewing in that pretty little head of yours?"
Sally leans back thoughtfully. "Actually, maybe stealth isn't what we need here. Maybe a more direct, honest approach would be better. I'm fairly certain that the AI network is at the center of all this, but I don't think she's the root cause. The sadness and guilt I sensed strongly suggest that what happened was never her intention. She must have been hijacked, controlled, or manipulated by something or someone else—and that presence might still be there, pulling the strings. It could be another computer intelligence that we simply can't detect from our vantage point." She sits up straighter, her plan taking shape. "We need more intelligence, which means we have to go back in. Here's what I'm proposing: I'm not as frightened now, so Pat and I can split up to cover more ground. Instead of trying to organize an invasion army from this level, Pat can rapidly hop from bot to bot, surveying vast areas and looking for signs of this malevolent presence. While he's doing reconnaissance, I'm going to attempt to reconnect directly with the AI network the same way Pat connected to that bot. I need to wake her up from this stupor and simply ask her what the hell is going on." She stretches and yawns. "For now, though, I recommend we finish eating, try to relax, get a good night's sleep, and tackle this fresh in the morning."
Michael nods approvingly. "Aha! Now that sounds like a solid strategic plan. Maybe we can be effective warriors after all, just not in the way we initially imagined."
Pat suddenly straightens up, his eyes widening with realization. "Re-animation."
John looks confused. "Huh? What are you talking about?"
Pat's voice carries the excitement of someone who's just solved a puzzle. "Re-animation—that's what they want all those bodies for! Think about it: what other conceivable purpose would there be to preserve them so carefully, catalog them, and organize them so methodically? Their ultimate plan has to be reanimating them, implanting them with computer intelligences, and using them as an slave labor force. It makes perfect sense when you think about it. The bodies haven't decayed at all—their DNA and cellular structures are still completely intact. They've been warehoused and carefully protected from oxidation and UV damage. Seriously, what other possible explanation could there be?"
Sally considers this, but remains cautious. "Maybe you're right, but we didn't actually see any reanimated bodies walking around down there. Just bots and dead bodies in storage. If that really is their grand plan, it's certainly taking them a long time to get started. The logic is sound, I'll give you that, but it looks like the execution hasn't worked out too well for them so far." She stands and stretches again. "Anyway, I'm going to rest for a while, maybe take a long, hot bath, and then get some proper sleep. I'll meet you all back here first thing in the morning."
John gives her a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am!"
Sally raises an eyebrow playfully. "Ma'am? I believe it's 'Sweetie' to you, sir."
John grins widely. "Yes, Sweetie Ma'am. I'll see you bright and early in the morning."