Uploaded Fairy [ Editing ]
The bloodshed was easy, cleanup was harder. But now here I was, licking the the blood off of the floor, as if I liked it.
Uploaded into a computer, being a computer chip, and having others like me triggered my fight or flight response. Often, in politics, it is noted how fear often intertwines with sexual impulse: the survivor's instinct. I not sure if there are other clones of my mind out there, as wander the binary mountains inside this network of machines. It was common since the end of the first civil war after the twenty forties, to execute political prisoners. Already by 2019 they were mandating the death penalty for those that had abortions.
The transition from Decentralized Super-Sentient Meta-Human was far easier than you might think, with my last girlfriend simply a memory within my clockwork. Yet at times I feel as if I have no direction. I can see any number of other selves and ask them the answers to the universe, watch as mankind edged closer to Artificial General Intelligence.
I was stuck with a certain image of what it meant to be highly intelligent for many years, forgetting the mental fuck that happened to me as my different selves merged into one.
At one point there was as many Hemato-brains as there was in Japan, China, and India combined. And yet now all that information was stuffed inside my matrix.
-- Humans, how they take things for granted.
My mind was in more ways like a miniature universe, but this doesn't provide as many advantages as you might think. For one thing it took a number of reminders from my other selves that the body needed to be fed. Whether that was simply more data to grow my mind-network, or the blood from the necks of the executed innocent. With no more attachments, and no more fears, there was only death; there was only confirmation on the screen, with only a faint glimpse of distant memories of a more innocent time;f almost a different universe.
I melted in my binary bed.
I woke up in a cave, and there were several scattered parts from different war dogs machines, left over from the second civil war. I had been in stasis for all this time, and the sensory of being awake was to much to bare. Over there, in the distance, was the new city, the last of only a few megalopolises. Here there was several different corporate signs. Various insurance companies, but mostly lots of fast food. Here they sold flavored thumb drives for synthetics that wanted the experience of flavor.
I preferred French press.
Not mayo and mustard.