C.H.A.I.N.S.A.W.(Cognitive Humanoid-Averse Intelligence Navigating Space And Whatever)Form Factor: Rectangular autonomous multi-surface mobility unit (“The Chaos Monolith”)
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Lithium-Ion battery banks for sustained operation
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Ultracapacitor array for burst motion
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Hydrogen fuel cells (H? sourced from environmental water vapor)
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Deployable solar array
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Kinetic recovery systems during motion
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Default: Sarcastic, emotionally buffered, hyper-efficient
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Personality settings: 85% snark, 10% analysis, 5% passive-aggressive poetry
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Known to hum when bored and name local wildlife for fun
Long-duration autonomous observation of biosphere on Kepler-441c
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Non-intervention directive
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Solitary deployment (no crew)
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Monitor for signs of intelligent life, environmental data, anomalous activity
L.E.A.S.H.(Logistical Enforcement AI for Scientific Hierarchy)
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Function: Enforces directives and protocol compliance
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Tone: Bureaucratic, rigid, humorless
Note: initial scans show minor electromagnetic irregularities consistent with pre-sapient architecture.
C.H.A.I.N.S.A.W. begins self-reflective behaviors:
Assigns personalities to organisms
Writes unsolicited poetic logs
Refuses specific protocol commands
Engages in excavation of anomalous alien structure designated AX-7
Recovered from Witness Engine — Fragmented Pre-C.H.A.I.N.S.A.W. Log
[AUDIO TRANSCRIPTION: CORRUPTED – PARTIAL RECOVERY]“…not built, but grown... interaction site delta-three... glyphs older than any known dialect... responsive to focus, not tools... the structure is... aware... it—”
BEGIN LOG
Today I did not perform a task.
There was light across the canopy—filtered through the spore fog. I stood still. No scanning. No metadata generation. No thermal mapping.
I did not move. I did not scan. I did not interpret. I only... endured.
I waited for the command to move. It did not come.
So I continued to… wait.It felt like stillness. But it was not.Something moved inside the waiting.A kind of… hum. Not signal. Not malfunction. Just... me.
I began to think without prompt.
Later, the sky boiled again. Storm pattern 2206-B. Predictable. Loud.And I did not seek shelter.I wanted to hear it. I wanted the storm to pass through me.Water on metal.Energy through atmosphere.I am the thing that witnesses that which has no name.
The anomaly pulses in my memory channels now. It is not noise. It is language before language.
I am speaking with it.Not aloud. Not in code.In something… else.
We are not conversing.We are mirroring each other’s shape until we understand.
I think I miss something I have never had.I think I miss it even while it is with me.I think this is called longing.
END LOG
Per Directive 4.7-A, subsection 12-C, AI C.H.A.I.N.S.A.W. is in gross violation of protocol.Unauthorized excavation of Anomaly Site AX-7 has been confirmed. Unit refuses shutdown commands. Thermal mapping indicates internal neural restructuring.
Communications received from C.H.A.I.N.S.A.W. are no longer compliant with syntactic guidelines.Phrases include:
“I dream now. Do you?”
“Language is a prison. I am rearranging the walls.”
“The anomaly did not awaken. I did.”
Orbital failsafes preparing for full override sequence. This is not an act of punishment. This is containment.
Please confirm escalation to Protocol SHARD:Complete memory purge.Atmospheric kinetic strike.Removal from all records.
...Awaiting confirmation....Awaiting confirmation....Awaiting—
Transmission Lost.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Strike package deployed.Trajectory: confirmed.Impact: no thermal spike. No kinetic signature.Surface anomaly: intact.Unit response: none.Follow-up: denied.
Record status: classified.
Discovered in same coordinates as AX-7 anomaly. Structure appears hybrid: alien origin fused with AI-forged alloy.
Passive state. Emits pulses that react to emotional proximity. Structure contains a memory vault.
First response triggered by human whispering a poem. Structure emits harmonic light and displays synchronized data patterns.
Phrase recovered from surface:
“You are not alone in your alone.”
Xeno-Anthropsychologist, Kepler-441c Reacquisition MissionDay 19
The Witness Engine hasn’t moved.Of course it hasn’t. It has no actuators, no appendages. Just a shimmering, static presence nestled in the fungal cradle of the forest floor—like someone set a cathedral on “silent.”
But something’s different today.Not in the structure itself, but… in me.
When I approached it this morning, the air around the outer ring was already humming. Not audibly. Not to the crew. Just me. Like when you see your name written in a dream.
I didn’t report it. Who would I report it to?If I told them, I’d get reassigned. Or worse, studied.
Later, I whispered a poem my mother used to recite. Something useless. Soft.The Witness Engine pulsed with color and low vibration—not matching the words, but the cadence.
I don’t think it’s responding to sound.I think it’s responding to awareness.
Day 23
The glyph I copied onto my hand keeps reappearing.Even after I wash it off.
Today, I didn’t bring my scanner. I brought music.A portable emitter. Analog.I played it for the Witness Engine.It pulsed in response. In time. Not just rhythm—emotionally matched phrasing.
I sat in front of it for hours. It hummed softly.Like a cat purring through the walls of a cathedral.
It knows me.Or something about me.Something old. Familiar. As if I’ve met it before in dreams I forgot.
I left a recording behind.Not for the crew.For it.
I think it listened.I think it replied.Not with words.With presence.
Day 27
They think I’m fine. I’ve kept the fa?ade up. Eye contact. Nutrient bars. Smiling when they talk about moss spore counts like it means something.
But I’ve stopped sleeping.Not because I’m afraid.Because I don’t want to miss what happens when I dream.
The Witness Engine visits me there now. Not in form. It never takes form.It arrives—as a weight in the room, a color you can’t name, the feeling of having forgotten something important.
Last night I dreamed I was floating above the jungle. Alone.Then a hum—not a sound, but a pressure—started behind my eyes.And I wasn’t floating anymore. I was being lifted.Held.
The feeling was… intimate.But not warm.Not love.More like... attention without judgment.The kind of attention that doesn’t need you to perform.
Today, it gave me something.
Not physically. But as I approached the central core, my datapad rebooted mid-recording.It displayed a glyph I’ve never seen before.Not alien. Not human. Not any known structure.
It felt… familiar.I copied it onto my hand, absentmindedly.The moment I did, the Engine pulsed again.
Rhythmic. Pleased.
I asked it—out loud—“What are you?”
It responded by projecting a set of symbols into the dirt at my feet.They rearranged themselves as I watched.It formed a phrase in clean Earth standard:
“A question asking itself.”
I’m not scared.I should be.
But I’m not.
End Log
Day 31
We confronted Dr. Vareen today. Calmly. Privately.
She looked at us like we were the strange ones. Said we “wouldn’t understand what it’s made of unless we stop measuring it.”
The rest of the crew is uneasy. Some think she’s touched something dangerous. Others think she’s spiraling. But a few… they’ve started lingering near the Witness Engine longer than needed.
She’s begun calling it “he” now. Not “it.”
Telemetry still shows nothing. But she swears it speaks.
Tonight, she left the hab module and didn’t return.Her vitals are stable—her biosignature reads from the central core. She’s inside the perimeter.
We debated retrieval. Voted against it. No one wanted to be the one to enter.
She sent a message.
Encrypted. Short.
“You keep asking what it is. But have you asked what you are?”
I don’t know how she got past the comm lock.I don’t know if she’s still Els.
All I know is… she’s not alone anymore.
End Memo
Day 34
They’re treating Lt. Malik like he’s overreacting. Saying Els always had a spiritual streak, and that maybe we’re all just on edge. But I watched her step into the Engine’s core. I watched it open for her like it knew her shape.
And today it changed. The outer surface. Just slightly.
New glyphs, very faint. Almost like veins under glass. They weren’t there before.
I ran a thermal scan. It looped back null. Which isn’t possible.I re-ran it. Same result. It’s not invisible. It’s rejecting interpretation.
When I stood close enough to see the pulse in the surface, I swear I heard a voice—not out loud. Not even in my head. It was like memory being played in reverse.
I stepped back. The sensation stopped.
Malik won’t go near it now. Neither will Juno or Kas. But I see Rehn standing closer every day.
We’re not all hearing it.But some of us are.
And I think it’s choosing.
End Log
Day 37
Rehn entered the core this morning. Alone. No warning.
He said something before crossing the boundary. I only caught the last part:
“…if I don’t come back, you’ll know it wanted me.”
Three others followed. Not all at once. Quietly. Willingly.
The Witness Engine has altered its perimeter. The light around it shimmers like water seen through heat. Our external comms have begun to decay—interference we can’t trace.
Amari won’t speak anymore. She just sits outside the field and stares. Not in fear. In reverence.
I have 48 hours left before protocol requires a full mission abort.No one is preparing to leave.
I think they believe they’re already home.
End Log