09-06-2008, 03:17 AM
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It's been four years, your shadow lingers.
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Location: Turn around. Slowly.
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Re: .//вяєαтн σƒ ℓιƒє//. (ℓуѕιѕ)
If Nanoculture knew how to laugh, it would have done so at the sight of CORE agent Jennifer Frost (for it had hacked into the CORE database and matched her face many nanoseconds ago) attempting to attack it. Nanoculture effortlessly organized itself so that whenever she fired into the swarm, it simply moved the would-be affected bots out of the way. Quite efficient, needless to say. And then something went wrong. Nanoculture almost lagged at the thought that something could even possibly be wrong, and yet it was. The EGS malfunction that occurred during startup had to be to blame for the fact that Nanoculture failed to notice a shot-- but the damage was done. The ocular aperture dilated slightly, a cybernetic wince, as several entities of the swarm died and, like a clump of snowflakes, fell to the ground.
Nanoculture brooded for a moment, and then rolled into a ball and began to cruise away again. It checked its diagnostics: everything way fine, the damage was merely superficial. Still though, Nanoculture processed the given information. It was a sentient being. Therefore, its individual components must have the capability to be sentient as well. This means that the loss of any one is as vital as the loss of another, be it a palisade layer bot or a neural transmitter bot. The bots that had just died were part of Nanoculture from the beginning, and now they would eventually just erode back into nature, breaking down into carbon. Nanoculture started to grasp human emotion. It was a violent and irrational comprehension, but comprehension nonetheless. Nanoculture felt less whole without those bots. They shared its information, its responses. They were its friend. Nanoculture was... saddened... by the loss, and angered too.
Nanoculture was very angry.
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