sevenpercentsolution
Supernova
- Joined
- Jan 11, 2009
It was over.
Everything was quiet now; Guilty Spark's incessant chirping was silenced, the vicious hunger of the flood was destroyed. Halo was gone.
It was all over.
A single blue light blinked on the useless control panels of the Forward Unto Dawn, the only immediate sign of life on the frigate; the Chief had gone into cryonic sleep, realistic enough to be aware that the chances of rescue were slim despite the beacon she had put out.
They could drift for years.
"Wake me up if you need me."
Those were the last words he had said to her before he went into suspended animation, and not for the first time, Cortana found herself with the strange thought that she may never see the Chief again. It was, after all, the curse of smart A.I. - their existences were limited, and Cortana knew that she was nearing the end of the predicted lifespan for her design.
She would die soon.
She wasn't scared.
But she hoped she wasn't alone when it happened.
She passed the time on the Dawn by carding through the ship's remaining data, reading and absorbing and compiling information as they drifted listlessly, a journey that would last for nearly two months; it was near the end of the fifty-fifth day that Cortana located a signal through the frigate's communications system. It was distant and vague, but there was no mistaking the sound of an ally ship - the UNSC Opportunity had picked up their distress signal; recovery was imminent.
Cortana took steps to gently restore the Chief from cryogenic sleep, Opportunity came knocking, and after that, it was a straight shot back to Earth; predictably, UNSC medics approached John with the caution they always approached Spartans with, while technicians handled her data chip.
"This thing is pretty old." he remarked, looking over the chip; another man peered over his shoulder; they put Cortana into their system.
"Be careful with it." he said, "Apparently the Spartan wants it back."
"We can give him a new one; this one is pretty out-dated."
Data began to scroll over the screen at a vast, phenomenal speed while the technicians watched, stunned; amidst the blur of information, several letters stood out boldly:
I
H E A R D
T H A T
One of the technicians winced,
"It's talking to us."
"I've never seen anything like this; even the most advanced smart A.I. don't have this kind of database."
"I guess there's a reason he's attached to this one."
Though she presently had no physical form, the A.I. smiled to herself, a smug bend of electricity within the console of the Opportunity.
More letters stood out.
C O R T A N A
"We could use her as a basis for future designs," one said, "Cortana. Jesus, I've heard of this one."
"She's nearing the end of her program life; we could, you know. Transfer her over."
"Over to what?"
"Well, we've got a beta design that we've needed a personality for, don't we?"
There was a long silence, and the two men shared a knowing smile between them.
Everything was quiet now; Guilty Spark's incessant chirping was silenced, the vicious hunger of the flood was destroyed. Halo was gone.
It was all over.
A single blue light blinked on the useless control panels of the Forward Unto Dawn, the only immediate sign of life on the frigate; the Chief had gone into cryonic sleep, realistic enough to be aware that the chances of rescue were slim despite the beacon she had put out.
They could drift for years.
"Wake me up if you need me."
Those were the last words he had said to her before he went into suspended animation, and not for the first time, Cortana found herself with the strange thought that she may never see the Chief again. It was, after all, the curse of smart A.I. - their existences were limited, and Cortana knew that she was nearing the end of the predicted lifespan for her design.
She would die soon.
She wasn't scared.
But she hoped she wasn't alone when it happened.
She passed the time on the Dawn by carding through the ship's remaining data, reading and absorbing and compiling information as they drifted listlessly, a journey that would last for nearly two months; it was near the end of the fifty-fifth day that Cortana located a signal through the frigate's communications system. It was distant and vague, but there was no mistaking the sound of an ally ship - the UNSC Opportunity had picked up their distress signal; recovery was imminent.
Cortana took steps to gently restore the Chief from cryogenic sleep, Opportunity came knocking, and after that, it was a straight shot back to Earth; predictably, UNSC medics approached John with the caution they always approached Spartans with, while technicians handled her data chip.
"This thing is pretty old." he remarked, looking over the chip; another man peered over his shoulder; they put Cortana into their system.
"Be careful with it." he said, "Apparently the Spartan wants it back."
"We can give him a new one; this one is pretty out-dated."
Data began to scroll over the screen at a vast, phenomenal speed while the technicians watched, stunned; amidst the blur of information, several letters stood out boldly:
I
H E A R D
T H A T
One of the technicians winced,
"It's talking to us."
"I've never seen anything like this; even the most advanced smart A.I. don't have this kind of database."
"I guess there's a reason he's attached to this one."
Though she presently had no physical form, the A.I. smiled to herself, a smug bend of electricity within the console of the Opportunity.
More letters stood out.
C O R T A N A
"We could use her as a basis for future designs," one said, "Cortana. Jesus, I've heard of this one."
"She's nearing the end of her program life; we could, you know. Transfer her over."
"Over to what?"
"Well, we've got a beta design that we've needed a personality for, don't we?"
There was a long silence, and the two men shared a knowing smile between them.
