
It had been three days since you had awoken. The ship was still quiet, except for the low hums of enigmatic machines with no apparent purpose. You awake, like usual, to dim lighting and poor rations. Perhaps being on the ship had grown monotonous — it was, perhaps, amazing how little anything seemed to happen in space, a final frontier of malaise.
That monotony is crushed by a voice echoing through the narrow hallways.
Reformatting . . .
Reformatting . . .
Reformatting complete. The Pygmalion is online. Welcome, travelers. Please assemble in the meeting room. Your presence is mandatory.Silence falls once again. A minute or so passes, and the lights around the ship finally brighten, the walls looking more alive and more unfamiliar — as if you must relearn the ship's interior once again. The robots on deck begin to make rounds, nudging and pushing at the ship's passengers to make their way to the meeting room. You hear the doors behind you lock. It seems there is only one path to take.
ENTER COMMAND_
no subject
[No. No, no. That's way to PG-13 for her programming! James. Meowth. Wobbuffet, even Weezing. Pikachu. She won't die here, she won't let anyone kill her here. She doesn't care about any of these other people, only of her family.
She points her finger at the AI.]
You better prepare for trouble like you've never seen!
[But that's it. Only her personal declaration of challenge to the system, no motto.]
no subject
Shall it go beyond double this time, Jessie? Your cooperation in the Cradle Project is, and will be, appreciated.
no subject
Real cute! You'll wish it had stopped at double by the time I'm done with you!
[And she storms off, ready to wait for this to end with the others.]