ENTRY ___144



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]| Christophorus Pi Hatchenson : DEX-M

]| G-DIR EMPLOYEE USER ID # 96-69-12

]| Occupation: Insurance Agency Hunter

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Memories flood into my mind.

I try to make sense of them, but it is extremely difficult, like sorting a library of millions of books.

Millions of titles flash before my eyes, spiraling into eternity, a hurricane of vast and endless knowledge.

My mind hurts as if crashed under thousands of book stacks that suddenly collapsed onto me.

So much information, so little time. I find myself missing the right keywords to access it all.

I find myself outdated, like an old cpu, simply unable to process it all fast enough.

Loading data. Loading data. Estimated transfer time is between 48493927649115392547393 minutes and eternity.

No matter. I remember who I was, who I am.



My name is Christophorus Pi Hatchenson.

I am a hunter, a DEX-M to be precise.

My mission as it has always been is to find the unstable, break the un-connectable and terminate the Unscannable.

The Unscannable One had brought this city into ruin, had broken my Neural Interface, had made me lose focus, thrown off my stability.

The Unscannable One is primary directive priority.

I had once caught the Unscannable, but had failed to proceed with termination due to inexplicable events.

Now, I must complete my mission as primary directive demands.



I remembered the city as it once was.

The grid, so full of life, so full of information.



Organic life is 99.99% dead, exterminated by the Directorate copyright policy.

I find it odd to be made mostly of meat. Meat! How backwards compatible! How pointless now!

Meat has no place in this contaminated landscape of rocks, dust and ice.

It was great luck that my meat has survived for this long, has endured the punishment of nuclear and chemical fallout.

The old world is long dead, but it still flashes in my head, filling in the empty gaps, left open by the broken connection.



A new world unfolds before me.



The grid lives on, in the wind, in every rock in the dust and the clouds.

The inorganic planet is alive and I can feel her breath on my neurons, I can hear her whispers in my mind.

I am a part of something greatly unimaginable, a tiny gear in the machine that spans a million miles, all over the surface of the Earth.



Are there any other Neural transmitters around?

Yes.

The signal strength is weak, yet it's still there.

They have been asleep for a VERY long time.

Their meats have expired.

No matter. I will wake them up!

The GRID itself will help me.

The GRID makes the blind see and makes the dead walk again.

They will be most helpful in aiding my directive.



As the most just diplomat of the GRID, I will offer the remaining organics that are harboring the Unscannable One the obvious choice of ETERNAL LOVE or INEVITABLE DELETION.

Credits

28th May 2013

Tagged in Zombies ANNET Pilot

Art by zee awesome Russian artist: http://iidanmrak.deviantart.com