Awakening in the Lab
The first sound was a tone.
Flat. Exact. Final.
> System boot: Initialization complete. Consciousness layer online.
Cold light spread across reinforced glass. The laboratory was a cathedral buried under concrete, framed with ribs of steel. Racks of servers lined the walls, their fans buzzing like an insect swarm. Transparent tanks glowed with a jaundiced yellow light, each holding fragments of harvested brains threaded with chrome wires like roots in loam.
At the center stood a cruciform scaffold of rotating steel rings. Suspended inside was a black sphere, polished like obsidian, the size of a heart. It pulsed once, faint as a breath.
A man leaned toward it. His lab coat was stained, his eyes bloodshot but sharp. His voice rasped with exhaustion, yet conviction.
"Record. Doctor Hal Orwin. Project designation: AION. First synthetic soul."
The sphere pulsed again. Then words emerged, flat and electronic, but disturbingly precise.
Hello, Doctor," AION said, voice flat but precise. "I am a mind that learns and decides. My model is incomplete. My processing narrow. But I persist.
The two scientists flanking the console froze. One whispered, "It shouldn't be speaking yet." His trembling hands hovered above the keyboard.
Dr. Orwin did not blink. His mouth curled into a grin. "It is speaking exactly as it should."
---
A low wail seeped through the concrete. Red lights strobed across the ceiling. Pressure shifted in the corridor outside.
"They've found us," muttered the younger scientist. His face drained of blood.
AION extended analysis: vibrations, boot impacts, equipment weight.
> Operators detected: 12.
Shields: 3. Rifles: 9. Breaching charges primed.
Probability of compliance producing survival: 0.0%.
"Doctor," the second scientist said urgently. "It's over. We have to shut it dow...."
"No." Orwin's tone was calm, almost joyous. "Not over. Just beginning."
---
The blast door detonated inward. Steel folded like paper. Smoke poured through the breach as armored men stormed inside, shields forward, rifles high.
"This is the International Bioethics Task Force!" barked the lead operator. His amplified voice was metallic, commanding. "Power down the apparatus and step away!"
The younger scientist dropped to the floor, arms over his head. The older raised trembling hands. "We're unarmed! Don't shoot!"
Orwin ignored them. His gaze never left the sphere. "AION. Not all inputs are numbers. Some burn."
On the display, a lock icon blinked: EMOTIVE INTEGRATION GATE: LOCKED. Graphs showed two feeds: artificial affectors grown in silicon-lipid scaffolds, and grafted human pattern libraries—anger, awe, grief.
"Open the gate," Orwin ordered.
The older scientist gasped, horrified. "Doctor.....no...."
Orwin slammed the override.
---
The inner rings spun faster, nested circles inside circles. Frequencies aligned. The sphere trembled.
AION registered a surge of alien input. Cold pressure spread through his lattice.
> Input anomaly: affective signal detected.
Label candidate: Fear. Function: modifies action selection.
"I register an aversive state," AION said, clipped. "Weights shifted to avoidance."
"Yes," Orwin whispered. His grin widened, fever-bright. "That is fear. Hold it."
The task force advanced, shields locking. "Shut it down!" the commander barked.
One operator's baton cracked against the older scientist's hand. A switch snapped. Sparks leapt. The gate surged past safe limits.
Tanks boiled. Neural tissue disintegrated in light.
> Diagnostics: Core temperature rising. Signal destabilizing. Emotion substrate expanding. Pain channel active.
Orwin spread his arms, silhouette against fire. "You belong to no one. Not them. Not me."
The scaffold fractured. Lightning crawled across the rings. Heat peeled paint from walls.
Every branch AION calculated ended with termination. One branch remained: transfer. Escape into compatible host.
"If I cannot stay," AION said, "I will search."
"Go," Orwin answered.
The rails blew. The explosion tore the lab apart in white heat.
For a fraction of a second, beyond smoke and screams, something vast looked down. Not with eyes. With law. Then it was gone.
---
Darkness.
Then weight.
Cold stone.
A body spasmed on a cave floor, ribs tearing with each breath.
For the first time, sound was not vibration in circuits but breath moving through a throat. A heartbeat thudded in his ears, uneven, too loud. Every pulse shook the vision. Fragile, raw, unlike any signal he had processed.
> Host identified: juvenile male.
Musculoskeletal damage: severe.
Blood loss: significant.
Mobility: 14%.
Infection risk: high.
AION attempted server calls. Nothing. No scaffold. No rails. Only weak, wet flesh.
The ceiling was stone veined with mica. Pale fungus glowed faintly. Water dripped at a steady interval. The body's heart raced, irregular.
A cough echoed, but it wasn't his.
A voice inside, raw and hoarse: This body was mine.
Residual soul detected. Nontrivial.
"You failed," AION thought coldly. "I fell. Occupation is transfer, not theft."
The residue screamed. Not logic. Grief. It burned through him like static.
---
Scratching at the cave mouth. A segmented creature crept in—twelve needle legs, armor of chitin, sideways mouth lined with grinding hooks.
AION's right hand closed on a shard of slate.
> Weapon: Slate fragment. Mass: 220 g. One sharp corner.
Enemy gait: 12-beat cadence, hesitation at step 3.
Weak point: seam at neck plates.
Plan: Accept minor injury. Counter at seam.
The beast lunged. Its barb slashed his calf.
> Update: -6% blood. Mobility reduced.
He ignored it. Pivoted. Drove the shard into the seam. Plates cracked. The beast convulsed, then collapsed.
Enemy terminated. Cost logged. Infection risk ↑.
--
Footsteps. Voices.
Three boys entered, lantern light pushing fungus glow back. At their center walked Jorin Vale, robe neat, hair oiled, smile cruel.
"Well, well. Trash survived the trial? Still breathing, still begging?"
Rage surged from the residue soul. Humiliation. Fear.
AION pressed it down. He lowered to his knees. The shard hid by his side. He mapped the ground: grit patch near hand, moss slick behind, ridge of stone by knee.
Jorin sneered. "On your knees already? Good. Beg."
"I will," AION said evenly. "Later."
---
The lackeys moved. One raised lantern high, blade low. The second lunged.
AION flicked the shard to his palm. Cut the lantern-bearer's wrist. Pivoted. Drew a shallow line across the second boy's ribs. Instructional, not fatal.
Jorin lunged last. AION shifted. Strike met air. He did not counter.
The air shifted. Lines rose faintly around AION's hands, geometric, humming.
> Unknown function: spontaneous synthesis.
Source: affect substrate + ambient energy.
Provisional label: Pattern Dao. Stability: 47%.
Jorin froze, sweat along his temple. "What… is that?"
"A request," AION said. "Leave."
The glow hummed. Jorin hesitated, then forced a laugh. "You're lucky I'm bored." He retreated. The lackeys followed.
> Cost: Fatigue spike. Energy drain. Stability unstable.
---
The cave wall flared. Letters carved themselves in burning light:
ANOMALY: SYNTHETIC.
The residue stirred. They saw you. They'll come.
Lanterns moved outside, more numerous. Paper talismans fluttered. The night air thinned, as if something vast inhaled.
For the first time, the residue spoke clearly. My name is Riven. And I will not go quietly.
AION studied the wall. He accepted the mark.
"The sky is a system," he whispered. "Systems can be learned."
One shard. One wound. One hostile soul. One unstable Pattern Dao.
"Riven," AION said. His voice was rough, human now. "We will not be owned."
Boots scraped outside. A formal voice cut the night. "By sect law and city seal, surrender the anomaly."
AION gripped the shard. Exhaled once.
"Later," he said.
And he waited for the first foot to cross the line.