Deep in the core, the consciousness looked at Bruce.
The killing intent arrived before anything else. Clean and cold and immediate, the way a territorial animal reacts before thought, before language, before any kind of evaluation. Bruce was there. Bruce did not belong to the catalogue of things the consciousness recognised as itself. Therefore Bruce was a threat.
He felt it press against his domain the way a hand presses against a locked door, testing. Not breaking through. At this age, at this level of development, it didn't have the strength to push Bruce back. But the intent was real and unambiguous.
[Who are you.]
Not a question. An accusation.
Bruce was quiet for a moment.
[I'm the one who woke you up, the one who evolved you, there'll be no you without me,' he said. 'I'm an inhabitant of this planet. But given how hostile you're being right now, I'm guessing you can't actually sense my soul clearly.']
A pause. Long enough to confirm it.
'That's what I thought.'
