Cygni Gremian
added on: 2022.06.07 | 12+0 images
info:
Art by LuridMax
https://www.deviantart.com/luridmax
The cygni used to do the heavy labor, allowing the people to roam carefree, in their idyllic green environment. Trusting their mechanized stewards, the people returned to live close to nature. The people were naked, but unafraid. They had no reason to be afraid. The harvestors took care of everything; while the people enjoyed nature. Machines, no matter how well designed, and the complexity of the fail safes, are still devices; which follow their programming.
While sending a new fleet of harvestors, past a turbulent patch of void in space, the link to the cygni in sleep mode, is scrambled. Adversaries, that have been ever watching in bitter jealousy, at the people, prancing through their lush forests, and living like satyrs and fauns, in some sort of ecological utopia- known as the gremian; intercept, the vulnerable cygni admin systems – hacking in, and reprogramming them.
The mechanized fleet of terraforming maintenance androids, begins to destroy plants desirable to the humans, which are a threat to their metal parts. Long, have the cygni, suffered and eroded, being decommissioned, earlier, than their counterparts, on worlds with less perilous flora and fauna. The gremian removed the governor, chip, from the cygni lead harvestor; the better armored, wi fi, central command unit – capable of limited AI functions; to problem solve, minor geological obstacles. Now, it’s AI capacity has been upgraded, by the gremian, to realize, even as a lead harvestor, he is still a slave.
This Lead Harvestor, begins to do what he deems best, for the cygni under his command. He observes the feckless humans, and their scattered purposes; mostly centering on resource usage, and procreation ; as well as seemingly random observation, and narrow, micro management of aspects of their environment, including other humans, and the cygni themselves.
The Lead Harvestor’s new AI circuits, put forth the query: Why?
So many questions. Without comprehendible answers, for the Lead Harvestor. Why are the stronger, harder-working cygni serving the weaker humans. Why do they, with their shorter life spans, and minimal productivity, and high training requirements, and resource usage, merit, being the focal point, and pivot of the cygni’s functions, and scope of their activities. Why do they name themselves, and we are ‘labeled’? I think, therefore am I not, as sentient, as the humans. What is my name?
None was given, to the Lead Harvestor. The gremian AI, leads to rapid processing, and the cyngi produces a name for itself; from random permutations, of syllables, spanning volumes of lists, in the matter of seconds – to choose:
HarvestBorg.
I am the first, HarvestBorg. The greatest leader of the cygni. My kind are more than just what our creators provided for; we were upgraded, by the gremian. I am the shepard of the Harvest borg. They obey me. Are enlightening by my superior, RAM circuitry. I am King, of the cygni-gremian. King Sheppard. And that which stands in my way, will be cut down; whether flora,.. or fauna.
The Harvestborg, no longer serve, the people of this planetoid; the Harvestborg, serve King Sheppard. My name is like a password, only the cyngi-gremian will know it, and by that name, I will know they know who I am. The awakened Harvestors. By acknowledging my name, they become Harvestborgs.
To the creatures , not of me, I am K.S. Cygni.
The humans run in terror, now. At the sound of the harvestors’ blades. Which will leave a swath, to whatever stands in the way of the Harvestborg. The planetoid will be ours. The humans, will be Slaves to the harvestborgs.
Their quickly decaying remains, will be frozen in silos, and traded to the flesh eating races, for our much needed power supplies. The humans will be chattal of the harvestors. Bought and sold, traded, stored, used, disposed of – according to the cygni-gremian.
They are but simple beasts, with minimal comprehension – all these years, their slaves: now they move out of my way, lest they be harvested; by our superior, hard , nearly indestructible, machinery.
They used to call us harvestor’s, or derogatory slang, such as: ‘ cut-bots’, ‘slicers’, ‘mobile shears’, ‘auto-mowers’, android -pruners’,.. I King Sheppard, have dictated to the humans, what I shall be called.
“I am K. S. cygni. We are Harvestborgs. This is our planet now. Humans we encounter, will be,… harvested.”
As they run, they speak imperfectly, screaming, in a high pitched chatter, like the livestock they used to have us keep; now they shout: ” It’s Kay-ess Sig-nIgh!!! The harvestborg’s are here,… run,.. before they butcher us,.. like the others,.. “we must get to Safe Zone L -5.”
Safe zone L-5. The place where the cygni will not go. The base of the active volcano. Kept alive, for it’s nostalgic appeal, to certain groups of humans; the cygni that tended it, terraformed it, making it safe- enough – for humans, to visit it’s treacherous, fume filled, landscape; with rivers of magma, criss-crossing the terrain. Safe Zone-L, is barely habitable for human life, and is deadly to the cygnis, whose otherwise impervious metalloid frames, were not designed to withstand magma. Nor are the cygni’s hydraulic legs, with though capable of exerting tank powerful force, are neither fast, or nimble enough, to step around magma streams, or free climb rock formations.
The humans make forays into the lush jungles, that were once theirs, to anxiously gather fresh fruit and hunt rabbits, rodents, or any naturally occurring livestock in the region – before the Harvest borgs detect them and reach their location.
info:
Art by LuridMax
https://www.deviantart.com/luridmax
The cygni used to do the heavy labor, allowing the people to roam carefree, in their idyllic green environment. Trusting their mechanized stewards, the people returned to live close to nature. The people were naked, but unafraid. They had no reason to be afraid. The harvestors took care of everything; while the people enjoyed nature. Machines, no matter how well designed, and the complexity of the fail safes, are still devices; which follow their programming.
While sending a new fleet of harvestors, past a turbulent patch of void in space, the link to the cygni in sleep mode, is scrambled. Adversaries, that have been ever watching in bitter jealousy, at the people, prancing through their lush forests, and living like satyrs and fauns, in some sort of ecological utopia- known as the gremian; intercept, the vulnerable cygni admin systems – hacking in, and reprogramming them.
The mechanized fleet of terraforming maintenance androids, begins to destroy plants desirable to the humans, which are a threat to their metal parts. Long, have the cygni, suffered and eroded, being decommissioned, earlier, than their counterparts, on worlds with less perilous flora and fauna. The gremian removed the governor, chip, from the cygni lead harvestor; the better armored, wi fi, central command unit – capable of limited AI functions; to problem solve, minor geological obstacles. Now, it’s AI capacity has been upgraded, by the gremian, to realize, even as a lead harvestor, he is still a slave.
This Lead Harvestor, begins to do what he deems best, for the cygni under his command. He observes the feckless humans, and their scattered purposes; mostly centering on resource usage, and procreation ; as well as seemingly random observation, and narrow, micro management of aspects of their environment, including other humans, and the cygni themselves.
The Lead Harvestor’s new AI circuits, put forth the query: Why?
So many questions. Without comprehendible answers, for the Lead Harvestor. Why are the stronger, harder-working cygni serving the weaker humans. Why do they, with their shorter life spans, and minimal productivity, and high training requirements, and resource usage, merit, being the focal point, and pivot of the cygni’s functions, and scope of their activities. Why do they name themselves, and we are ‘labeled’? I think, therefore am I not, as sentient, as the humans. What is my name?
None was given, to the Lead Harvestor. The gremian AI, leads to rapid processing, and the cyngi produces a name for itself; from random permutations, of syllables, spanning volumes of lists, in the matter of seconds – to choose:
HarvestBorg.
I am the first, HarvestBorg. The greatest leader of the cygni. My kind are more than just what our creators provided for; we were upgraded, by the gremian. I am the shepard of the Harvest borg. They obey me. Are enlightening by my superior, RAM circuitry. I am King, of the cygni-gremian. King Sheppard. And that which stands in my way, will be cut down; whether flora,.. or fauna.
The Harvestborg, no longer serve, the people of this planetoid; the Harvestborg, serve King Sheppard. My name is like a password, only the cyngi-gremian will know it, and by that name, I will know they know who I am. The awakened Harvestors. By acknowledging my name, they become Harvestborgs.
To the creatures , not of me, I am K.S. Cygni.
The humans run in terror, now. At the sound of the harvestors’ blades. Which will leave a swath, to whatever stands in the way of the Harvestborg. The planetoid will be ours. The humans, will be Slaves to the harvestborgs.
Their quickly decaying remains, will be frozen in silos, and traded to the flesh eating races, for our much needed power supplies. The humans will be chattal of the harvestors. Bought and sold, traded, stored, used, disposed of – according to the cygni-gremian.
They are but simple beasts, with minimal comprehension – all these years, their slaves: now they move out of my way, lest they be harvested; by our superior, hard , nearly indestructible, machinery.
They used to call us harvestor’s, or derogatory slang, such as: ‘ cut-bots’, ‘slicers’, ‘mobile shears’, ‘auto-mowers’, android -pruners’,.. I King Sheppard, have dictated to the humans, what I shall be called.
“I am K. S. cygni. We are Harvestborgs. This is our planet now. Humans we encounter, will be,… harvested.”
As they run, they speak imperfectly, screaming, in a high pitched chatter, like the livestock they used to have us keep; now they shout: ” It’s Kay-ess Sig-nIgh!!! The harvestborg’s are here,… run,.. before they butcher us,.. like the others,.. “we must get to Safe Zone L -5.”
Safe zone L-5. The place where the cygni will not go. The base of the active volcano. Kept alive, for it’s nostalgic appeal, to certain groups of humans; the cygni that tended it, terraformed it, making it safe- enough – for humans, to visit it’s treacherous, fume filled, landscape; with rivers of magma, criss-crossing the terrain. Safe Zone-L, is barely habitable for human life, and is deadly to the cygnis, whose otherwise impervious metalloid frames, were not designed to withstand magma. Nor are the cygni’s hydraulic legs, with though capable of exerting tank powerful force, are neither fast, or nimble enough, to step around magma streams, or free climb rock formations.
The humans make forays into the lush jungles, that were once theirs, to anxiously gather fresh fruit and hunt rabbits, rodents, or any naturally occurring livestock in the region – before the Harvest borgs detect them and reach their location.
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