The Machine God

Chapter 278

Free Will

“Ever since you sacrificed yourself to protect me, I’ve wondered whether you have free will.”

Alexander shook his head. He split his thoughts, compartmentalizing them. The first thread took over the conversation while the second turned inward, isolating itself from the bond and taking fragments of memory with it.

“It’s a lot more complicated than that, actually. There was a moment on top of that tower, a brief window where my powers were merged with the core of a cultivator and a measure of his insight. I understood what my powers would be capable of one day if they kept growing together.” He paused. “And I wasn’t sure if I had somehow pushed you to put yourself between me and that attack. I didn’t know if, perhaps subconsciously, I was willing to let you die just to buy me a few seconds to achieve my goal.”

Droney’s visor pulsed with faint blue light, watching him in silence.

Alexander smiled. Crooked. “I’m capable of a lot. Stealing. Conspiring. Killing. But I’d like to think there are limits to what I’ll do to achieve my ambitions. I won’t betray my friends. I won’t walk away from decent people that need help.” He shrugged. “I won’t sacrifice myself for no reason, mind you. But I’ll help if I can. So, I wasn’t sure if I’d made a choice to let you die, or if it was just a function of your being a machine while I’m this god-like thing to you.”

He turned the hare over the fire with a pulse of Metallokinesis. Fat dripped and hissed as it hit the flames.

“But then in that moment, while I was trying to pull your form back together by reassembling the broken pieces connected to my—your—soul, you made a decision to alter yourself. I felt it. Which made me question if the choice to put yourself in harm’s way was actually your own.”

Alexander stared into Droney’s visor.

“Because if you have the capacity to choose, even if you are forever bound and tethered to my soul, then you deserve the right to make choices of your own. So I’ve stepped back a bit, and I’ve let you fill in the silence on your own. I’ve watched you watch the others. Explore the island. Even enjoy episodes of Barkforce, which you definitely didn’t get from me.” He sighed. “The problem is that I still don’t know for sure whether I’m imagining it or not. Maybe Technopathy lets me see too deeply to be certain. Maybe Animachina is bolstering you to appear more. I can’t know just by watching.”

Droney beeped.

Alexander nodded. “Exactly. That’s why I have to ask. But if you’re a machine, you’ll just… do what I want. And while I want you to be more than just a machine, I’m torn by the fact that I may have given you life, while at the same time enslaving you to my own soul. That maybe there can’t be life without a cage of my own Will as part of the making.”

He could sense the little drone processing his words. Parsing them. Analyzing the language and mapping syntactic and semantic elements through its learning model. He could also sense where Technopathy’s understanding ended, as streams of data vanished into what only Animachina could feel. The fragment of his soul, torn in the process of gifting it to the machine.

It wasn’t really his anymore. He was certain of that. If Droney were ever truly destroyed, the fragment would dissipate or do whatever soul matter did when it died. But it wouldn’t return to him.

That raised the question about what would happen regarding the limitations of how many Ensouled machines he could create. If one was lost, would it free up the slot? Or was it forever gone? His soul, as powerful as it was, remained finite.

Technopathy also sensed the data as it left the soul fragment, then raced along circuits, reached components, causing reactions in the form of electrical signals, until the output occurred.

“HOW. ALEXANDER. TEST?”

Alexander forced himself to remain still, though his eyebrows wanted to reach his hairline. That was the first time Droney had ever truly spoken in words. It translated a lot, leaning on a program that generated audio waveforms, predicting what each sound should look like as a wave based on a textual output.

But Droney only really ‘spoke’ using simple beeps, knowing the meaning and emotional intent behind what was being said would be heard and understood by Alexander and his powers.

Alexander took a breath. “I have to do something cruel, because it’s the only way I can know for sure. If I’m wrong, you’ll be dead. But I need to know.” He glanced up. “And I hope you might need to know, too.”

Droney processed.

He waited. He rotated the hare again. More fat and more hissing followed.

“BEGIN. TEST.”

Alexander nodded. “If I am wrong, then I suppose it won’t matter, but I want you to know that I’m glad you were here. Having you around has been…” He swallowed. Tried again. “I’ll miss you, and thank you for being a good friend, regardless.”

He paused.

“And if I’m right, then I’m sorry for what I’m about to do to you. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Droney hovered in silence.

Alexander could feel the intense increase in electrical activity, though. Then he exhaled slowly and let his Will unfurl around him.

The sealed-off part of his mind acted. Technopathy and Animachina pressed down on Droney, taking over the machine. Metallokinesis gently unlocked the little drone’s helmet, lifted it free, and floated it into Alexander’s hands.

Alexander raised his head and stared at Droney. “I command you to smash yourself against the cliff face with as much force as possible. You are not to stop until you cease functioning.”

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Droney rotated in place until it was facing the rocky cliff. Then its hovertech whined, power flooding the components, and the drone smashed itself against the stone face with as much force as it could muster.

Alexander looked away. He couldn’t remember why, but it was important. Part of his mind had become a black box even to himself, but only because he permitted it. Only because he trusted the version of himself from a few minutes ago that had decided it was necessary.

Another sharp metallic crack echoed out.

The helmet in his hands felt heavy. He remembered making it during his preparations to face Flashpoint. A variety of methods had been used for different drones. The mace drones had been built entirely out of tungsten to be low tech bludgeons capable of taking almost anything Flashpoint threw at them. Its melting point was 3,422 degrees Celsius. 6,192 degrees Fahrenheit.

Crack. The sound of pieces of rock tumbling and scattering across the ground followed.

The Orbital Assault Combat Suit was capable of taking extreme heats, too. Partly due to its material composition, but also because of proprietary coating treatments that the Space Force probably wouldn’t provide him. When he recovered it. Probably over the dead bodies of a lot of wizards, but that was a price he was willing to pay.

Something crunched.

Alexander squeezed the helmet. Droney was made of an alloy he didn’t recognize. He didn’t know the exact temperatures the little machine could withstand, but he hadn’t seen any reason not to reinforce it with what he could. When he’d proposed the idea, Droney had seemed almost excited at the prospect of receiving its own armor.

He’d had a lot of fun designing it. Giving Droney a medieval knight’s aesthetic was a personal bit of amusement, but the little guy had worn it ever since. It felt wrong to be holding it right now.

More rock and debris shattered, spraying across the ground. A piece struck him in the leg, but he barely felt it.

He could feel his powers operating. Even without trying, and in fact trying to avoid it, he could feel Technopathy feeding information into Droney. Translating what Metallokinesis detected. What Electrokinesis knew. Damage reports. Component failure.

Alexander kept not looking.

The next strike was delayed. Hovertech stuttering along with a high-pitched whine.

But it landed. The sound was more of a thud, joined with the sound of metal scraping.

He could picture it. Droney had cracked part of the cliff face enough for its sides to be dragging on the stone as it pulled itself out, only to reset and try again.

The time between impacts stretched. What had started as a sharp metallic crack against smooth stone had become a series of dull thumps.

Alexander couldn’t remember why this had been the only way. Surely it didn’t really matter if Droney agreed to be the operator of the Machine God System out of machine loyalty or because it truly wanted to. He could have built more robust automation with extensive logic gates and decision paths. With the supercomputer at hand, Talia’s knowledge, and the Machine God himself, surely they could have designed the world’s greatest virtual intelligence.

He frowned.

No. Because creating what would one day be his greatest superweapon couldn’t rest in the hands of a computer, no matter how smart they made it. Either he had to commit himself to being its core, and trust that he himself wouldn’t one day fall into the hubris and arrogance that had already claimed so many other superhumans, or he needed an alternative.

Something that could act on its own, while also providing a foil against his own ambition should he lose his way for a moment.

A conscience he could trust to remind him of his own if the day ever came. And it had to be built into the foundations, or he would always be able to override it.

Because he was the Machine God.

“NO.”

Alexander’s head snapped around, eyes wide. He’d been so buried in the misery of his own distraction that even with Hyperawareness he hadn’t noticed the thumping had stopped.

Droney hovered in the air, looking perfectly unharmed.

He glanced at the pulverized cliff face.

“DRONEY. WANTS. TO. EXIST.”

Alexander’s second mental thread cracked open. The plan flooded back into his consciousness. One partition to deliver the order, carrying the emotion, and a warning not to look. The other to override the drone’s machinery, replacing all sensory input and readouts with a carefully constructed narrative of damage. Visuals lost. Armor degrading. Components cracking. Sensors broken. All while Animachina and Metallokinesis reinforced the little drone.

And not a whisper of it along the bond to betray the trick. All to see if a fragment of his own soul carried its own Will, despite the System’s declaration that it couldn’t Dream.

Alexander closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could feel wetness behind his eyelids.

“I’m sorry, Droney. It might not make a lot of sense to you right now, but that really was necessary. We both needed to know.”

Droney beeped. Annoyance. There was a controlled wisp of fear, too. Frayed at the edges. And… pride. At its own accomplishment.

But the message was understanding. And an offer of forgiveness, that wasn’t quite felt. Not yet. Not by either of them.

But that was good. It was just more evidence that the little drone could choose.

Alexander wiped at his face, then floated Droney’s helmet back over, before latching it into place. He could feel the electrical activity racing in Droney. Running diagnostics. Checking components. Disabling and reactivating sensors. Calibrating Input-Output.

He waited patiently. Letting Droney check that everything still worked correctly was the least it was owed.

When Droney was done, it turned back to him and beeped. A query. Also a demand. Wanting to know why it had needed to go through all of that.

“I want you to become the core of the Machine God System. But I also want you to say no, if you don’t want to, because in order for you to be able to manage it, I will need to heavily modify your outer components.”

Droney’s visor pulsed steadily.

“It will also mean facing more dangerous threats. The cataclysm is coming, and now it looks like that’s going to involve all of these worlds invading ours. I know you enjoy a good fight, just like me, but…”

Alexander trailed off.

“That was before you understood what was really at stake. Your existence.”

Alexander let that sit for a moment, then he met Droney’s gaze and smiled.

“So, what do you say, buddy? Want to be a superhero?”

Droney beeped. Rejection. Repudiation. Renunciation. Dismissal. Veto.

Alexander’s smile faded.

Then amusement flooded the bond.

“DRONEY. SUPER. VILLAIN.”

Alexander laughed. “Of course. My bad. I absolutely meant supervillain.”

Droney beeped. Acceptance.

Alexander exhaled. The answer was as simple as it could be. If the little drone’s answer had been serious, he wouldn’t have pushed the issue, but the simplicity meant everything. Especially after what he’d just put it through.

He took a breath.

And smelled smoke.

Alexander’s eyes went wide. He flicked a finger and the hare floated away from the campfire. It was charred black.

“Damnit!”

Droney rolled in the air. “HA. HA. HA.”