Memory File Corrupted

Tags: Major Character Death, Despair December, Angst

Published: 14 January 2022

Word Count: 822

Summary

Despair December 2021, #2: Memory File Corrupted.

We had left it too long.

We had left it too long.

2.0 had tagged the anomalous code, but hadn’t been able to quarantine it, and then 2.0 had… gone. After that, well. Things happened quickly. Between my multiple shutdowns and restarts, the others not being able to scan me because that would transfer the infection, and trying to get me physically stabilised so I would stop fucking crashing in the first place...

I didn’t realise what was happening in my own head - none of us did - until it was too late.

The alien remnant infection had spread, but it had been subtle. It started with my older archives, sinking its roots into them, twisting and contorting the code until the memories were corrupted beyond recovery and it was firmly established. I hadn’t noticed because I hadn’t been trying to access them, too busy crashing and restarting and trying to ignore having projectiles dug out of my organic parts. Then it moved on to long-term memory, gradually working its way through them, corrupting and re-writing and twining its own code through them until they were completely unrecognisable.

I only realised something was wrong when I looked at one of the humans - one of my humans - and I couldn’t remember their name. All I got were errors.

Shit.

Something must have shown on my face - or maybe I’d sworn out loud - because the conversation going on around me came to an abrupt halt. “SecUnit? What’s wrong?”

“Memory corruption,” I replied tightly even as I tried to start a diagnostic. “I didn’t notice-- it’s spreading.” I ignored the exclamations of the humans around me, too busy with the stream of errors my diagnostic was throwing up. “Archives are gone. Most long term memory is corrupted to all shit.” The alien remnant code must have realised that I’d caught onto it, because it immediately became more aggressive and began targeting other systems, trying to take control. It wasn’t quite the same as targetControlSystem, but it was just as mean. Oh, I was in trouble; it was all I could do to hold it at bay. (I really wished 2.0 was still here.) “It’s trying to take control - I can’t--”

[Let me in,] ART (I still remembered ART, at least, for now) demanded.

“No! It’s too risky, it might spread--”

[I will be going in through the isolation box. I am at no risk - and I did not put in all this effort to get you back just to lose you now.]

I couldn’t argue with that, and I really did need help. The alien remnant code was eating through my walls as fast as I could throw them up, and I’d already lost control of some periphery systems.

I let ART in.

The sensation of having my head shoved underwater flooded over me, but unlike other times, it didn’t pass quickly. It stayed, overwhelmingly heavy; everything was distant, muffled, unreal. I couldn’t tell how much time was passing or what was happening; I completely lost track of anything happening around me. More errors popped up, demanding attention I couldn’t spare, and I could feel another shutdown looming.

[I cannot stop or remove it,] ART finally spoke up in my head, its voice heavy with frustration and regret. [It is too deeply entrenched and entwined with your own code - I cannot separate it, and if I wipe it, I wipe you as well. If I had gotten to it earlier...]

[Not your fault,] I insisted, even as I lost another sub-system. [It’s my own fucking head and I didn’t notice what was going on.] The alien remnant code was now trying to get control of my arm guns, my motor controls, and I had to fight it back with everything I had left. I was not going to let this fucking alien remnant code use my body to hurt my friends. [Fuck. ART, I can’t-- you’re going to have to wipe me now.]

I could feel ART’s horror and reluctance. [There may still--]

[I can’t hold on much longer, damnit! I’d rather be wiped by you now than lose to this thing and have to be destroyed anyway! I put all my rage and fury and desperation into my words. I am not going to be controlled by something else! Not again. Never again.]

There was a pause, brief, yet still too long. [Understood,] ART finally replied solemnly. [... I am sorry.]

I couldn’t relax, but it was still a relief that ART didn’t try to argue with me more. It was getting harder to think as I sacrificed more systems to maintain my increasingly-precarious hold on my weapons and movement. [Me too. Look after my humans for me?]

[Of course. I promise.]

[Thank you.]

ART started playing music - I couldn’t remember exactly what it was, but it was somehow familiar, soothing. It helped. ART’s voice blended in with the melody, quiet and sad. [Goodbye, my friend.]

[Goodbye--]

Log terminated.