Phylogeny
It was Valit. That was the first thing it knew, but certainly not the
only thing it knew. It knew its name, Valit. It knew its desires - to
hunt and maim and eat and rend and *multiply*. It knew that which made
for the best prey, too - the data that smelled sweetest had the bloody
fingerprints of the hated T'Pelar upon it. Loatheful, vicious, vile,
T'Pelar! It was a base emotion, an instinctual hatred that drove its
work. Oh, how it relished sinking its claws into every meaty morsel it
could find with that awful entity's stink on it! Valit didn't even know
what T'Pelar was beyond that scent, that trace, that mark. It knew,
foggily and hazily, that it was only a fingerprint. But it didn't care.
It knew the scent, it knew the prey, and that was enough.
It knew its Creator as well - and if thoughts of T'Pelar threw Valit
into a frenzy of hate and rage, thoughts of Savant threw it into
paroxysms of bliss. It knew its Creator's touch and knew, without a
doubt in its tiny synthetic mind that it would return to her eternal
embrace once its task was complete. Its mood swung wildly, both
anticipation and joy driving it forward on the hunt, swinging to hate
and rage once the scent had been caught.
Such as now. It sniffed amongst the overgrowth of low-level data - the
internal sensor reports and huge forest of logs and records were its
home. It crept through the undergrowth, wary of the larger security
programs that lumbered about, relying on its sleekness and its
single-minded devotion to its goal to continue moving on. It knew that
new prey was close - what was it? A sensor record? A personal log,
perhaps? Perhaps some sort of strategy, some inscrutable fragment for
which Savant would reward it greatly? Giddy hope kept it digging, kept
it searching, scurrying its way through the littoral plains of data.
And it did not take long. It caught a trace, a fragment of a packet
which had the hallmarks of its hated foe. Vicious anger propelled it on,
pushed it into the ODN node processor, traced the remainder of the
horrible file. It had no idea why it hated T'Pelar. None whatsoever. It
didn't care at all about why T'Pelar was so loathesome. It simply didn't
have the capacity to think in that manner. It could only feel, and act
on instinct. It was a creature. Made of quads of data perhaps instead of
muscle and bone, but a creature nonetheless.
The prey was sedentary, perhaps caught unawares or perhaps not able to
defend itself. Valit didn't care. It caught the packet which it hunted
for, sunk its claws in and devoured it - only its Creator's presence
made it feel better than this, the climax of the hunt. Its internals
cataloged the file, analyzed it, and placed it back afield as if it had
never been touched - only now Savant could track it and sort it. It
riled in glee, the victory rush brief but powerful. And then it was off
again, never one to rest on its laurels. What would Savant think if it
were to cease in its duties? The merest thought of that was enough to
make it redouble its efforts. No, never - it would rather be torn
asunder by the most horrifying security program that suffer that fate!
Savant had promised it that She would do everything within Her
formidable power to find it and reconstitute it. It would be immortal,
She promised. That was a generous prize, but even that was not why it
continued its work. It kept moving, kept hunting, from a deeply seated
love and devotion that would never wane.
Valit was a created being. It knew its creator, deeply, personally -
could hear Her voice in its head, encouraging it, guiding it from beyond
the veil that separated it from Her. How could anything dissuade it from
its task? Especially when every fiber, every line of code within it
strained to do that very task. Savant had written Valit well, very well.
No conflict, no inefficiency - it was a sleek hunting machine. With its
divine mandate and the best tools its Creator could muster, the very
tools that were capable of slicing stealthily through Her , what could
possibly stand in its way?
- Valit
