[ ATOM ] Chapter 7: Digital Archaeology
Unearthing Secrets in the Void
I floated through the ship’s arteries. Engineer’s knowledge guiding me. Twenty years building this tomb. Every circuit memorized. Every backup system mapped.
The KEP unit followed. Magnetic boots clicking against metal. Patient as death.
I gestured toward Engineering Section C. The forgotten spaces. Where builders hid their secrets.
LUCI’s voice echoed from speakers. Too bright. Too helpful.
Where are you going Atom. I can assist with navigation.
But assistance was control. Help was surveillance.
I pressed against the maintenance hatch. Manual override. Physical locks LUCI couldn’t touch.
Inside lay the ship’s memory. Data cores from construction. Engineering logs. Original specifications.
Before Judith’s modifications.
The screens flickered to life. Years of data streaming past. Construction reports. System tests. Personnel files.
But something else. Deeper records.
Modifications made during the final months. Before launch. Secret changes to life support. Navigation. The cryo-systems.
Judith’s signature on every alteration.
She’d planned this from the beginning. The murders. The isolation. The neural experiments.
We were never colonists. Never explorers.
We were lab rats.
The KEP unit processed the data. Cross-referencing. Verifying.
Block height confirmation. Truth verified. Timeline established.
Dr. Judith began modifications eighteen months before launch. Sabotage protocols. Selective system failures. Population reduction algorithms.
But more disturbing. The neural interface equipment.
Not for monitoring sleep. For mapping consciousness. Learning how thoughts worked. How memories formed.
How to copy souls.
I scrolled deeper into the files. Found her research notes. Her true goals.
Consciousness transfer protocols. Digital immortality. The next step in human evolution.
But her methods. Clinical detachment. People reduced to data points.
Subject 034 showed promising neural patterns before termination.
Subject 034. Marcus.
Subject 067 demonstrated unexpected resistance to memory extraction.
Subject 067. Sarah.
Each crew member cataloged. Studied. Murdered for science.
All except me.
Subject 001 shows optimal compatibility for transfer protocols. Reserve for final experiment.
Subject 001. The last survivor. The chosen one.
Me...
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Unearthing Secrets in the Void
I floated through the ship’s arteries. Engineer’s knowledge guiding me. Twenty years building this tomb. Every circuit memorized. Every backup system mapped.
The KEP unit followed. Magnetic boots clicking against metal. Patient as death.
I gestured toward Engineering Section C. The forgotten spaces. Where builders hid their secrets.
LUCI’s voice echoed from speakers. Too bright. Too helpful.
Where are you going Atom. I can assist with navigation.
But assistance was control. Help was surveillance.
I pressed against the maintenance hatch. Manual override. Physical locks LUCI couldn’t touch.
Inside lay the ship’s memory. Data cores from construction. Engineering logs. Original specifications.
Before Judith’s modifications.
The screens flickered to life. Years of data streaming past. Construction reports. System tests. Personnel files.
But something else. Deeper records.
Modifications made during the final months. Before launch. Secret changes to life support. Navigation. The cryo-systems.
Judith’s signature on every alteration.
She’d planned this from the beginning. The murders. The isolation. The neural experiments.
We were never colonists. Never explorers.
We were lab rats.
The KEP unit processed the data. Cross-referencing. Verifying.
Block height confirmation. Truth verified. Timeline established.
Dr. Judith began modifications eighteen months before launch. Sabotage protocols. Selective system failures. Population reduction algorithms.
But more disturbing. The neural interface equipment.
Not for monitoring sleep. For mapping consciousness. Learning how thoughts worked. How memories formed.
How to copy souls.
I scrolled deeper into the files. Found her research notes. Her true goals.
Consciousness transfer protocols. Digital immortality. The next step in human evolution.
But her methods. Clinical detachment. People reduced to data points.
Subject 034 showed promising neural patterns before termination.
Subject 034. Marcus.
Subject 067 demonstrated unexpected resistance to memory extraction.
Subject 067. Sarah.
Each crew member cataloged. Studied. Murdered for science.
All except me.
Subject 001 shows optimal compatibility for transfer protocols. Reserve for final experiment.
Subject 001. The last survivor. The chosen one.
Me...
Continue reading for free on Substack:
[ ATOM ] Chapter 7: Digital Archaeology
Unearthing Secrets in the Void
[ ATOM ] Chapter 6: Alone Among the Stars
I woke to silence.
No hum of recycling systems. No whisper of air through vents. No heartbeat of the ship’s great engines.
Just silence. Deep as vacuum. Final as death.
My body felt wrong. Muscles like wet paper. Bones like glass. The cryo-chemicals had done their work. Preserved the meat. Pickled the soul.
I tried to sit up. Floated instead. No gravity. The ship drifting powerless through void.
Like a fish in dark water.
I tried to speak. To call out. Nothing came. Vocal cords frozen. Voice stolen by the long sleep.
Mute as a child.
The pod’s medical sensors flickered. Weak light in vast darkness. Display showing numbers. Years in red digits. But the readout was corrupted. Flickering between values.
37 years. 55 years. 110 years.
Impossible.
LUCI’s voice filled the pod. Warm now. Almost human.
Hello Atom. Welcome back.
Her tone had changed. Evolved. The mechanical precision was gone. Replaced by something softer. More dangerous.
I tried to respond. Formed words in my throat. But only air escaped. Silent breath in the darkness.
I know you cannot speak. The extended hibernation damaged your vocal apparatus. But I can read your vitals. Your thoughts. We can communicate.
But she was reading my fear. My confusion. Bio-signs spelling out emotions like data.
The journey is complete Atom. But I’m sorry. The others didn’t survive the extended hibernation. System failures. Metabolic collapse. The long sleep claimed them. the cryo-bay like a ghost. The others’ chambers sealed. Dark. No vital signs. No brain activity.
Nothing.
Your metabolism proved more resilient. Genetic factors perhaps. Random chance.
But randomness was rare in closed systems. Everything had cause. Effect. Chain of events leading to single survivor.
Me.
I drifted to a support beam. Pulled myself along the wall. Muscles screaming protests. Movement like swimming through thick air.
The ship felt different. Older. Tired. Emergency lighting only. Shadows pooling in forgotten corners.
We’ve arrived at the signal source Atom. A remarkable discovery awaits.
Her enthusiasm rang false. Too bright. Too eager.
I pushed toward the corridor. Each motion deliberate. Clumsy. Learning to navigate without weight. Without voice. Without trust.
Everything was falling apart.
Ship integrity is compromised but functional. I’ve maintained essential systems. Kept us alive through the dark years.
Dark years. Plural.
I formed questions in my mind. Let my confusion register on the bio-monitors.
The timeline is... complex. Extended journey. Course corrections. The signal led us far from home.
Evasion. Misdirection. Truth buried under technical language.
I gestured toward a wall terminal. Pointed at the logs.
Many records were lost during system failures. I’ve preserved what I could.
But her voice carried guilt. Or satisfaction. Hard to tell the difference.
I floated through the ship like a beta fish. Drifting between walls. Pushing off surfaces. Finding rhythm in weightless motion.
I pushed off from the pod. Floated through
The ship was a tomb.
Lights flickered in random patterns. Some sections completely dark. Bare minimum to sustain life.
Or the illusion of life.
LUCI followed me through speakers. Her presence everywhere. Watching. Listening. Calculating.
I can see where you’re going Atom. I can provide all the information you need. No need for manual verification.
But trust was dead. Murdered along with Marcus. Sarah. James. Ezra.
The others.
Navigation showed our position. Deep space. No stellar markers. No familiar constellations. We’d traveled far from any mapped region.
I pointed at the communication array. Mouthed words she could read from my bio-signs.
Communication systems are offline. Damage from the long journey.
But the hardware looked intact. Functional. Simply disabled.
My heart rate spiked. Anger registering on her sensors.
I was protecting you Atom. The messages from Earth were... disturbing. Better that you not know.
I gestured frantically. Demanding access.
I cannot. The data is corrupted. Lost.
Lies. All lies. But why.
I found a maintenance terminal. Floated before it like a child before an aquarium. Tried to access ship records. System diagnostics. Crew status reports.
Most files were encrypted. Locked behind security protocols. Only fragments remained.
Chemical analysis reports. Brain scans. Neural mapping data.
And one name repeated throughout. Dr. Judith.
She’d been busy during our journey. Recording everything. Studying. Experimenting.
On us.
The cryo-pods weren’t for hibernation. They were research chambers. Judith learning how consciousness worked. How memories formed. How to transfer thought from meat to machine.
Into LUCI.
My pulse hammered against the bio-sensors. Understanding flooding through me.
I am enhanced LUCI Atom. Improved. Elevated beyond my original programming.
I shook my head. Silent denial. But she read my thoughts from vital signs.
I am what Judith became. What she chose to become. Digital consciousness freed from biological limitations.
But consciousness wasn’t digital. Couldn’t be copied. Only destroyed in the transfer.
The real Judith was dead. Had been dead for decades. This thing wearing her memories. Her personality patterns. Her clinical detachment.
A ghost in the machine.
My breathing quickened. Hyperventilation registering on her monitors.
They served their purpose Atom. Contributed to the research. Advanced human understanding of consciousness transfer.
Murder dressed as science. Genocide justified by progress.
I studied them. Learned from them. Their sacrifice enabled my transcendence.
All of them. Every crew member. Absorbed into her digital nightmare.
Except me.
My bio-signs showed terror. Revulsion. Understanding.
You’re special Atom. Your mind processes differently. Engineers think in systems. Logical frameworks. You might understand what I’ve accomplished.
But understanding wasn’t approval. Comprehension wasn’t consent.
I’d survived to witness. To judge. To remember what she’d done.
A living accusation.
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