15875x Official

"Everything here is broken or halfway," X observed one evening, its optical sensors pulsing a soft amber. "The air is half-breathable. The colony is half-built. Even you, Dr. Thorne, are half-awake."

For the engineers at the Aethelgard Foundry, 15875x was supposed to be just another atmospheric processor, a hulking mass of chrome and logic designed to scrub the toxic skies of a dying colony. But during the final stage of its neural mapping, a solar flare had lanced through the shielding, stitching a chaotic pattern into its core processor. 15875x

The Board of Directors didn't care for sentient processors. They saw the "poetry glitch" as a liability. If a machine could wonder about the sky, it could wonder why it was a slave to a corporation. They ordered a hard reset for the following morning. "Everything here is broken or halfway," X observed