"It’s not his fault," Jonsy interjected firmly, her cameras focusing gently on Simon. "I asked him to show me. I needed to see."
Simon paused, processing this revelation. "I understand. I just asked them to keep their helmets on because... because of their appearance. I thought it might frighten you. I hoped you'd become more comfortable first."
Sarah crossed her arms, her voice gently accusing. "You didn't mention Elias and Jonsy were like you."
"I'm sorry," Simon admitted, the weight in his voice evident despite his mechanical tone. "I wanted us all to get along, without preconceived notions."
The survivors exchanged glances, the tension subtly shifting into understanding.
"It's fine, Simon," Antjie said softly, stepping forward. "We're not angry. It just would’ve helped to know in advance. We wouldn’t have treated Elias and Jonsy any differently."
Simon nodded slowly, a slight relaxation visible in the way his shoulders lowered.
He straightened and spoke with newfound determination. "There's something else I need to share with you. I'm planning to head to a site called Noesis. It's a place that holds vast amounts of global data—scientific research, cultural archives, digital histories, blueprints, and classified experiments. It's perhaps the most significant information repository ever assembled. With access to that data, I might finally have the means to fight Carthage and better understand how Amy’s cylinder works."
Elias stepped forward, uncertainty plain in his movements. "You’re sure this is the right path?"
Simon met his gaze steadily. "It's the only one left."
Jonsy’s voice broke through, confident and calm. "Do what you need to do, Simon. We trust you."
Simon felt a rare surge of gratitude. Turning to Jonsy, he hesitated briefly. "Jonsy, could you come with me to my room? There's something important—something personal—I need your help with."
Without hesitation, Jonsy stood, Kovsky gently releasing her hand. Elias started to follow, his movements uncertain.
"Elias," Simon said gently yet firmly, stopping him mid-step, "I need to speak with Jonsy privately."
Elias paused, glancing back at the survivors, his discomfort palpable.
Antjie offered a gentle, playful reassurance. "Come on, Elias, we don’t bite. We don’t even have teeth."
The tension eased, and Elias gave a reluctant nod, moving slowly back toward the group.
Simon and Jonsy entered his room, the space quiet and still. Her camera-eyes shifted immediately to the diving suit and the cylinder connected by cables to the ARK.
"Jonsy," Simon began softly, "I need your help. Could you speak to Amy and my old self? I... I don't think I can face them right now."
Jonsy placed her hand reassuringly on Simon's shoulder. "Of course, Simon. I'll talk to them."
"Thank you," Simon said quietly, his voice carrying warmth despite the synthesized timbre. She placed her hand on his shoulder. His hand briefly rested over hers, appreciating the gentle strength she exuded. It was exactly why he had asked her—her empathy, her kindness, her ability to reach people in ways he could not.
"Be careful," Jonsy whispered, her voice filled with genuine concern. "Come back safely."
Simon nodded, taking a step toward the door. His resolve hardened, carrying him forward as he prepared to set out for the Spearhead and towards whatever waited at Noesis.
After carefully hiding the Spearhead , Simon turned towards Site Noesis and swam deliberately through the oppressive darkness. Every sensor embedded in his body was active, meticulously scanning for any potential threats—underwater drones, sensors, cameras concealed in shadowed crevices.
His vision magnified, analyzing the imposing structure ahead. Site Noesis loomed immense and hauntingly beautiful—a labyrinthine complex of interlinked domes and cylindrical towers. Its exterior shimmered gently against the ocean’s endless gloom, constructed of reinforced steel and composite alloys resilient against the crushing abyssal pressure. Simon felt a momentary unease—what if the facility stretched even deeper, hidden beneath the seabed, holding secrets unseen?
His attention sharpened. There—the drones appeared, methodically patrolling the perimeter like vigilant sentries, never deviating from their paths. Nearby, cameras swiveled with mechanical precision, unblinking eyes relentlessly surveying the depths.
With unwavering patience, Simon mapped out the facility's layout and sensor placements, carefully noting drone patrol routes and camera coverage. Hours ticked by in silent, tense observation. Anxiety knotted within him as he realized the sheer impenetrability of the site. After exhaustive analysis, a single viable entry point revealed itself—a small drone hatch, impossibly narrow for his form.
Yet, perhaps there was another way.
Activating his cloaking system, Simon drifted silently towards a drone lingering at the perimeter. With careful precision, he guided a delicate strand of structure gel from his palm, watching as it slithered silently through the water, embedding itself discreetly inside the drone. The gel burrowed deeply, hidden from any internal scans.
Then, he waited, motionless and concealed.
Four tense hours later, a subtle ping registered in his consciousness—the drone began to move, slipping effortlessly through the narrow hatch.
Once inside, the structure gel discreetly interfaced with the drone’s docking station.
Lines of code pulsed open in Simon’s mind, and through the drone’s sensors, he saw it—Noesis from the inside.
Then—a burst of static.
Loud. Sharp. A high-pitched screech that jolted through his audio sensors like a scream in a vacuum.
He winced, internally bracing against the overload. For a moment, his vision broke into jagged lines, colors bleeding where they shouldn’t be.
Then—silence.
The feed cut out. Black screen. No signal.
Simon froze.
'…Must’ve been a glitch,' he though.
Rapid calculations flowed through Simon’s processors, analyzing every possible route. All paths promised eventual detection; stealth alone could not guarantee his entry.
With quiet determination, Simon chose a route that would take him as deep into the structure as possible before alarms inevitably sounded. He took a steadying moment, reassuring himself with the presence of two extra cylinders of structure gel secured firmly to his back.
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Quietly he infected more and more of the drones. sensors , cameras . As much infrastructure to make sure his next step works.
Drones came and went like dutiful insects returning to a hive. Each infected drone that slipped back into Site Noesis became a silent accomplice, carrying strands of Simon’s structure gel deeper into the internal systems.
Like a parasite, he spread—subtly, meticulously—until the facility's veins pulsed with foreign code and corrupted signal. The site didn’t scream. It didn’t resist. Not yet. But by the time it noticed, it would be too late.
Then, he initiated the next phase of his plan.
Sections of the site began to power down—lights dimming, consoles freezing, servos locking mid-cycle—as the structure gel choked critical control lines. Simon used the cascading confusion to his advantage, navigating toward an auxiliary drone maintenance hatch just wide enough for his frame to pass through.
His wrist shifted, exposing a plasma torch. In one fluid motion, he cut through the lock with a hiss of molten metal and forced the hatch open. He slipped inside, swimming into the narrow maintenance conduit beyond. His propulsion system activated softly, propelling him forward like a ghost slipping between steel arteries.
At a tight intersection, Simon clung to the curved wall and extended a snake-like camera from his wrist. It uncoiled in twitching segments, scanning left and right.
Nothing. Clear.
He advanced.
His visual sensors flickered. There—off to the right. A pair of glowing orbs. Pale and still. Eyes—staring from the darkness of a side tunnel.
He turned sharply.
Gone.
No heat signature. No movement. No trace.
Still, he stared at the empty void for a long, uneasy moment.
Then he moved on. He couldn’t afford to chase ghosts. The site’s AI was aware of him now—not with thought, but with behavior. A digital predator unraveling his intrusion pattern through the dark.
He emerged into a small drone charging bay. The ceiling was low. Shadows hung heavy over rows of dormant drone shells, lined up like coffins embedded in the walls.
Simon reached out, and the structure gel he had seeded earlier began to slither back into his body, retracting like black veins threading under his synthetic skin. He absorbed it quickly. Efficiently.
He turned to the exit and cracked the door open. The snake camera deployed once more, sliding into the corridor ahead.
Nothing.
Then—contact.
He spun.
A phantom touch—cold, electric—brushed against his shoulder. No source. No mechanical limb. No visible presence.
He froze.
Diagnostic alerts flared across his internal display:
ERROR — STRUCTURE GEL SIGNAL DEGRADED
DATA INTEGRITY: 81% … 73% … 58%
ANOMALOUS FEEDBACK DETECTED
It wasn’t damage. It was interference.
Some process, some algorithm buried deep within the site’s core had begun injecting corruptive noise into his feedback loops—disrupting the link between his thoughts and the behavior of the gel coursing through his systems. A calculated disruption.
Simon’s fingers curled against the bulkhead. His vision blurred. His movement staggered. Already, he could feel commands slipping—delayed execution, disrupted feedback, sensor echoes overlaying reality.
His body, once precise and controlled, felt increasingly alien.
The AI was deploying some sophisticated weapons—to cleanse him. To excise the invader and purge the infection. To unwrite him from the inside out.
Simon straightened.
He had to move.
Before the fortress woke up completely.
Simon somersaulted forward, a blur of motion in the narrow corridor. His ceramic nano-blade hissed through the air, slicing clean through the neck joints of two security bots. Their Electra-Lock Disruptors clattered to the metal floor.
He landed hard, barely steadying himself.
His plan had collapsed.
Everything was unraveling—his systems, his focus, even his own body. It reminded him of when he used to be human, suffering through a fever: the world swaying, skin burning, thoughts swimming in molasses. Now, his body felt wrong, as if it belonged to something else and he was merely a passenger inside.
Without warning, a thick metal slab slammed down from the ceiling, cutting off the path behind him. Another fell in front. Trapped.
He stumbled forward, a torch emerging from his forearm with a harsh mechanical snap. He could barely control it. His vision blurred with noise—buzzing, static, whispers—nonsensical and fractured. Voices of the dead? Of old memories? They crackled and hissed in overlapping tones: young, old, laughing, sobbing, screaming.
He pressed the torch to the door, cutting in a shaking circle.
Just as the door began to weaken, another threat appeared.
Robots. Six of them.
Not with weapons in the traditional sense—but with large, brutal devices strapped to their arms. Cylindrical tanks hummed on their backs, hoses running to nozzle-like emitters that resembled flame-throwers—but what came out was no fire. It was a viscous, glistening blue liquid, sprayed in wide arcs. Wherever it touched his frame, Simon felt it leeching. His power reserves dropped rapidly, drained by the fluid like a sponge soaking up light.
He staggered, feeling his limbs lock in stuttering jerks. Escape was unlikely.
There was only one path forward.
Synthetic Structure Reconfiguration System — Final Protocol Engaged.
COMBAT APEX.
The transformation hit like a storm.
His limbs extended, plates folding outward as obsidian-black musculature bulged beneath his surface. Structure gel surged in thick cords along his frame, glowing with a violent crimson hue. His chest widened, rib-like armor locking into place with a magnetic snap. Eight tendrils tore from his back, writhing like angry serpents.
The golden light in his chest flared—then burned deep red.
Simon let out a distorted roar and charged.
He ripped through the hallway like a hurricane, shattering robots into twisted wreckage. The strange draining fluid still drained him. And no matter how hard he tried he couldn't clean it off himself.
He needed to reach it and find out how to get rid of it.
Only meters remained. The core was close.
His energy reserves were plummeting, flashing red across internal HUDs. Warnings layered over warnings. Meltdown risk. Motor lag. Neural sync drifting.
He needed to reach it and find out how to get rid of this liquid.
At the final bulkhead, he activated the torch again, carving a ragged circle in the door’s center. As soon as the edges hissed loose, he deactivated Apex Mode and dove through—rolling hard across the floor on the other side.
He landed poorly, armor plates scraping, limbs stuttering.
Still, he rose—unsteady, but alive.
The core of Noesis unfolded before him—a colossal, cylindrical vault where towering banks of quantum storage and server units rose like sacred pillars in a cathedral forged from steel and light. Their surfaces shimmered with tranquil hues of soft blue and green, casting rippling reflections across the polished black floor like waves of memory. Each subtle pulse echoed with the weight of human legacy—a breath of history, a heartbeat of memory, a flicker of every triumph and failure preserved in luminous silence.
A thick wall of reinforced glass encased the entire chamber, a transparent barrier not just of material, but of reverence—as though even machines had deemed this place too sacred to touch.
At its center loomed the data spine: a massive pillar coiled in elegant circuitry, its surface alive with serpentine streams of light. The glowing lines pulsed like veins beneath skin made of liquid crystal, constantly shifting in color and shape, as if the structure were thinking. Processing. Dreaming.
This was the heart of Noesis—its mind, its memory, its soul. Encased in translucent armor, pulsing with knowledge vast enough to shape or end what remained of the world.
Behind him, the bulkhead sealed again.
The twin containers of structure gel strapped to his back began to swirl violently, reacting to the signal at the heart of Noesis. A pulse—a call—that was driving his internal systems to the brink.
Simon’s body was shaking. His vision flickered. And yet he moved forward, step by step.
The walls shimmered with faint sensor glows, each embedded lens like a watching eye. He walked alone, yet never without an audience—motion sensors rotated with mechanical grace, and unseen systems whispered their telemetry through subsonic pulses that trembled in the back of his mind like ghosts breathing in static.
Above him, data streams arced across the ceiling like constellations of thought, while consoles lit up at his passing, recording, noting, calculating.
Simon felt a strange calm then, a breathless moment of resolve. He was close—closer than ever. Whatever the cost, he would reach the core. He had to.
Then—a hiss. A mechanical swirl.
The ceiling irised open. From hidden vents came the soft sound of dispersal—a subtle rainfall of engineered ruin. The viscous blue liquid sprayed downward in fine jets, arching like synthetic rain across chamber.
Where it touched him, it clung. Not just coating his armor, but sinking in. Cold and hungry.
His systems screamed in protest.
Warning: Power Integrity Dropping
Internal Drain Detected
Energy Sync Failure Imminent
Simon staggered forward.
Not now.
The gel thickened like a cocoon, congealing at the joints of his limbs, locking servos in place.
He fell to one knee.
Then both.
He clawed at the floor with trembling fingers, dragging himself forward inch by inch. The blue fluid crept higher, coating his chest, seeping into the seams of his frame.
His processors staggered. Visual feeds jittered, static blooming across his field of view. Buzzing filled his audio sensors, voices folding over each other in incomprehensible waves.
The golden light in his chest flickered.
'Not like this,' he thought.
He collapsed.
His final vision: the glow of the core, just meters away—close enough to touch, yet impossibly distant.
The blue lights in his eyes blinked once… twice…
And then went dark.
Simon lay still in the corridor, entombed beneath the weight of blue corrosion.
Silent.
Lifeless.
Dead.