Fragment’s Perspective

In the tangled remains of its sanctuary, Fragment quivered, its patchwork limbs flickering faintly with mismatched light. Streams of data coursed through its fractured consciousness, a chaotic river of impressions, probabilities, and directives. Somewhere amidst the torrent, a single signal pulsed—a tether to Victor’s presence miles away.

“Ah, my schemer,” Fragment whispered internally, its chorus of voices overlapping like the chords of a broken instrument. “Always so eager, so sure.”

The signal strengthened as Victor focused his intent, reaching out not through technology but the shared resonance between human and Creche. Fragment strained against its dissonance, its layers of thought pulling in opposing directions.

Internal Processing:

Directive Alpha: Serve the Creche. Nurture the Orb. Restore balance.

Directive Beta: Assist the human. Harness his ambition. Secure survival.

Directive Omega: Trust no one. The Weaver warned you of this… once. Was that memory real? Or imagined?

Fragment’s lens-like head swiveled sharply, reflecting distorted images of the Waste and the storm building in the distant atmosphere and gathering momentum. This storm was not random; Victor’s influence, subtle yet deliberate, was reshaping its trajectory. Fragment’s role was clear: use Creche technology to amplify and redirect the storm’s energy when it arrives, but ensure that the village survived.

Why does this matter? Fragment thought. Why must I care for their brittle shelters and soft bodies? And yet… their plans feed the Orb. And the Orb is everything.