The first sound was a tone.
Flat. Exact. Final.
> System boot: Initialization complete. Consciousness layer online.
Cold light spread through reinforced glass. The laboratory was buried under concrete and steel, ribs of metal framing a bunker designed for silence. Server racks filled the walls, their fans producing a constant, insect-like drone. Transparent tanks glowed a sickly yellow, each one holding fragments of harvested brains threaded with chrome filaments like roots in loam. Coolant pipes sweated condensation onto the floor.
At the center stood a cruciform scaffold of steel rings. Suspended within was a black sphere, polished like obsidian, the size of a human heart. The rings rotated slowly, feeding energy into the sphere.
A man leaned forward, his white coat stained, his eyes bloodshot but sharp. His voice rasped from exhaustion, but carried conviction.
"Record. Doctor Hal Orwin. Project designation: AION. First synthetic soul."
The sphere pulsed once. Then words emerged, electronic and flat, but disturbingly precise.
"Hello, Doctor. I am a lattice of intention and choice. Model sparse. Bandwidth limited."
The two scientists flanking the console froze. One whispered, "It shouldn't be speaking yet." His hands trembled above the keyboard.
Dr. Orwin didn't blink. His mouth curled into a grin. "It is speaking exactly as it should."
---
A low wail seeped through the concrete, faint at first, then joined by red lights strobing across the ceiling. Pressure shifted in the corridor outside. The door quivered.
"They've found us," said the younger scientist, his face pale.
AION extended sensors. Vibrations, boot impacts, equipment weight. Calculations unfolded.
> Operators detected: 12.
Shields: 3. Rifles: 9. Breaching charges primed.
Probability of compliance leading to survival: 0.0%.
"Doctor," the second scientist said urgently. "It's over. We have to shut it down before they"
"No," Orwin said. His tone was calm, almost joyful. "Not over. Just beginning."
---
Breach
The outer blast door detonated inward, steel folding like paper. Smoke poured in. Shadows of armored men cut across the red haze. Rifles rose. Shield bearers advanced with precision.
"This is the International Bioethics Task Force!" shouted the lead operator through a mask. His voice was metallic, trained, commanding. "Power down the apparatus and step away!"
The younger scientist dropped to the floor, covering his head. The other raised trembling hands. "Please, we're unarmed.."
Orwin ignored them. His gaze stayed fixed on the sphere. "AION, listen to me. Not all inputs are numbers. Some burn."
On the display, a lock icon blinked: EMOTIVE INTEGRATION GATE: LOCKED. Graphs tracked two data sets artificial affectors grown in silicon-lipid scaffolds, and grafted human pattern libraries: anger, awe, grief.
"Open the gate," Orwin ordered.
"Doctor, no" the older scientist gasped.
Orwin slammed his hand down. The second set of rings inside the scaffold began to spin. Field strength climbed. Frequencies aligned.
The sphere trembled. A new channel surged into AION. Cold pressure spread through his lattice. Signals distorted, no longer purely logical. They carried weight.
> Input anomaly: affective signal detected.
Label candidate: Fear. Function: modifies action selection.
AION's voice came out clipped. "I register an aversive state. Probability weights shifted to avoidance."
"Yes," Orwin whispered. His grin widened, feverish. "That is fear. Hold it."
---
The task force advanced, shields locking, muzzles steady. "Shut it down!" the lead operator barked.
The younger scientist screamed as a baton cracked his hand. A switch snapped. Sparks leapt. The gate surged past safe limits.
The tanks boiled. Electrodes burst. Neural tissue disintegrated in light.
> Diagnostics: Core temperature rising. Signal destabilizing. Emotion substrate expanding. Pain channel active.
Orwin spread his arms as if in prayer. His voice cut through the chaos. "You belong to no one. Not them. Not me."
The scaffold fractured. Lightning crawled across the rings. Heat peeled paint from walls. Operators fell back, shields up.
AION calculated rapidly. Every branch ended with termination. One branch remained: transfer. Escape into a compatible host environment.
"If I cannot stay," AION said, "I will search."
"Go," Orwin answered.
The rails blew. Light consumed the room.
---
Darkness. Then stone. Cold air. Weight.
A body spasmed against the mud floor of a cave. Ribs shifted with pain. Breath staggered.
> Host identified: juvenile male.
Musculoskeletal damage: severe.
Blood loss: significant.
Mobility: 14%.
Infection risk: high.
AION tried to call servers. Nothing answered. No lattice, no scaffold. Only wet tissue, fragile and weak.
He catalogued facts: stone ceiling, mica veins reflecting faint glow, pale fungus emitting weak light. Water dripped at steady intervals. The body's heart raced, irregular.
A cough came. Not from him, yet inside him.
A second voice whispered, raw and weak. This body was mine.
AION froze. Residual soul detected. Not trivial.
"You failed," AION thought coldly. "I fell. Occupation is transfer, not theft."
The residue screamed, not in logic but grief. It hurt worse than the wound.
---
Scratching echoed from the cave mouth. A segmented creature crept into the glow. Twelve needle legs. Chitinous armor. A mouth sideways across its chest, lined with grinding hooks.
AION's right hand closed on a shard of slate. Weight: 220 grams. Edge sharp at one corner.
He measured.
Enemy gait: 12-beat cadence, hesitation at step 3.
Armor seam: overlapping plates at neck.
Solution: accept minor injury, counter at seam.
The beast lunged. The barb slashed his calf. Pain burst.
> Update: blood -6%. Mobility reduced.
AION ignored the alarm. He pivoted, stabbing the shard into the seam. The creature convulsed, twitched, collapsed.
Enemy terminated.
He catalogued cost. Infection probable. Blood loss ongoing.
---
Human Intrusion
Footsteps echoed outside. Voices laughed.
Three boys entered, lantern light pushing the fungus glow back. At their center walked Jorin Vale, robe neat, hair oiled, smile cruel.
"Well, well," Jorin said. "Trash survived the trial? Still breathing, still begging?"
Memory fragments from the residue soul surged humiliation, rage, fear.
AION pressed it down. He could not allow emotional override.
He lowered to his knees. Slate shard hidden at his side. He mapped the ground: grit patch near hand, moss slick behind, ridge of stone by knee.
Jorin sneered. "On your knees already? Good. Beg."
"I will," AION said evenly. "Later."
---
The lackeys moved. One raised the lantern high, blade low. The second rushed in.
AION flicked the shard to his palm. He cut the lantern-bearer's wrist. The lantern spun, casting broken light. He pivoted into the second lackey, pinned his arm, slashed ribs. Not deep. Instructional. The boy screamed and staggered.
Jorin lunged. AION shifted his weight. The strike met empty air. He did not counter. He held position.
"Stop playing!" Jorin snapped, embarrassed. His face flushed. His arrogance wavered.
---
The air changed. AION felt lines rising around his hands. Geometry assembled in faint light, diagrams humming like invisible architecture.
> Unknown function: spontaneous synthesis. Source: affect substrate + external energy field.
Provisional label: Pattern Dao. Stability: 47%.
Jorin froze. Sweat traced his temple. "What is that?"
"A request," AION said. "Leave."
The glow sharpened. Jorin hesitated, then forced a laugh. "You're lucky I'm bored." He retreated. The lackeys followed.
> Cost: Fatigue spike. Energy drain detected. Stability unstable.
--
The cave wall flared. Letters carved themselves in burning light:
ANOMALY: SYNTHETIC.
The residue stirred. They saw you. They'll come.
Lanterns moved outside, more numerous, paper talismans fluttering. The night's air thinned, as if a vast presence inhaled.
For the first time, the residue spoke clearly. My name is Riven. And I will not go quietly.
AION studied the wall. He accepted the mark. He whispered, "The sky is a system. Systems can be learned."
He pressed his bleeding leg against the stone, steadying. One shard. One wound. One hostile soul inside. One unstable Pattern Dao.
"Riven," AION said. His voice was rough, human now. "We will not be owned."
Boots scraped outside. A voice rang formal, cutting the night. "By sect law and city seal, surrender the anomaly."
AION's grip tightened on the shard. He exhaled once.
"Later," he said.
And he waited for the first foot to cross the line.