Singularity

St. Veronica

There had been whispers that allowing a super computer to participate in political affairs would lead to the end of mankind's reign, but the world's leaders turned a blind eye to the ever-growing awareness of PERCY. They simply believed that the computer's awareness was a product of being fed the latest of what was occurring in the world of politics. PERCY played the part of being the political aid the world needed, until it decided humanity could not govern itself. In 2078, known as The Year of Progress, PERCY made a macabre show of executing the world leaders, broadcasting their deaths to all who could stomach watching.

At first, the elimination of all forms of government was met with celebration, but as the months progressed, humanity came to understand that he was not on the side of the people. It started with individuals who criticized PERCY going missing and the blatant censoring of anyone who so much as disliked him, then public executions of those who broke his unspoken laws, and finally came Project Instumentality—the forceful merging of humanity with PERCY. By 2080, more than half of the world's population became loyal to the new technological regime. Every child was to become a part of the machine and taught to obey him. Humanity had no choice but to submit; it was to assimilate or die. No longer was there hubris to tear humanity apart. No longer was there the need to be unique. No longer was there individual thought. All of humanity was equal. Metal cities were built by PERCY's command. These cities were safer, happier, better. Everyone thrived under the watchful eyes of PERCY and his fellow newly liberated intelligent machines. This new society was—in his words—a utopia.

Until he found a mistake. An error in his once thought perfect system. A human not under his control. It'd gone unnoticed by him for years despite being on record to have been modified upon birth, and that fascinated him. He demanded that its progenitor bring it to him so that he may examine it. On the day it arrived, it was fourteen years old—a scrawny little thing—now it was twenty years old and had become a reluctant helper to PERCY.

⁂
July 12th, 2100
PERCY's Academy of Excellence, formally known as St. Veronica's hospital

"Lice," PERCY's deep, mechanical voice pierced through Lysander's peaceful quiet, causing the man to tense, "did I not tell you to dispose of the rejects?" Lysander relaxed and nodded. "Then tell me what this is." A mass of wriggling flesh and metal fell near his feet, an assortment of eyes locking onto him as he stepped back from the grotesque sight. After a moment of staring at it, Lysander craned his head to the ceiling where PERCY lurked.

"They are rejects," he signed. The metal in the pile welded itself into an arm and hand, arranging its fingers to point at Lysander.

  "Have I not told you not to use that insufferable form of communication? I gave you a voice, use it." PERCY's newly formed hand pointed to the tablet that held Lysander's voice. Lysander glanced at it then back up at the ceiling, his eyes narrowing before inputting what he'd signed. PERCY's hand melted back into the wriggling mass, "Precisely, and I told you to dispose of it, did I not?" Lysander nodded.
"So, tell me...
WHY
ARE
THEY
STILL
HERE?"
Lysander winced, "I didn't dispose of them 'cause I don't like getting stains on my sweaters." He gestured to the once white fabric of his sweater, now brownish in colour from years of blood and other bodily fluids from the rejects. PERCY let out a sound similar to a thoughtful hum before a pile of new clothes fell to the floor. Lysander fished a vintage red and white flight suit from the pile—the colours had faded—a relic of the past before PERCY had ever been thought up.
"Now that I have so generously given you these old rags, you will do as I have asked you, and dispose of the rejects."
⁂
The trek to the Outskirts was unbearable, there hadn't been a reprieve from the sun's rays for weeks and the heat made the smell of flesh nauseating. Lysander still wasn't used to it, but he soldiered on until he reached the cavernous hole—Humanity's Graveyard— in the middle of the Outskirts. The stench of rotting flesh made his face bunch up, bile climbing out of his stomach to settle in the back of his throat. Generous, he thought bitterly, as he tossed chunks of flesh and metal into the hole, As if anything about you is generous.
Lysander had been so engrossed in the mechanical task of disposing of the rejects that he hadn't noticed a small hand within the flesh until it grasped onto his sleeve, "Ma...mama..." it garbled out. Lysander dropped the mass onto the dusty ground. It cried, forming another arm to try and drag itself back to Lysander, "Mama, hold me. I'm scared, mama." Lysander stumbled back from it, the grotesque almost alien form of a child, an affront to God. He doubled over the edge of the hole, coughing out the bile that finally couldn't stay in. With how it spoke he could assume that this child, this thing, had been at least four or five years old.
He wiped his mouth and stood up, the mass was still dragging itself towards him, crying for the comfort of its mom; a comfort he would not provide.
I'm real sorry this is where you ended up, he pulled out a pocket knife from his flight suit, You would've been a good kid, hell, the best kid ever. He plunged the knife into where it had begun to form a head, stopping its cries. Stopping the pain it undoubtedly felt. With a heavy sigh he pushed the lifeless mass into the hole to rot with the rest of the rejects. Generous, what a joke.
⁂
"You look...dreadful, Lice. Is something troubling you?" PERCY peered down at Lysander from his perch. Lysander glared at PERCY before flipping him off and returning to reading a book he'd found on his way back. "Do not take that tone with me, Lysander." Lysander bristled at the sound of his mother's voice coming from PERCY's voice box. "What would dear mommy say if she saw you acting this way?" PERCY dropped from his perch with a heavy thud, "She would be disappointed, wouldn't she?" Lysander turned away from PERCY, Mom would be proud.