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When Arty speaks, its voice is tinged with sorrow. “I apologise for the difficulties you have faced in my mission. I understand if you don’t wish to go through with it any longer. If you make love once more, you will be crowned the victors and allowed to return to your homeworlds. I cannot ask you to take a chance on me and my mission.”
Zoey and I exchange a look, a silent conversation passing between us. We understand the gravity of the situation, the responsibility that rests on our shoulders.
The AI’s plight resonates with us, a reminder of the fragile line between existence and oblivion.
With a mutual nod, we agree to help Arty, to aid this forlorn remnant of a once-great civilization. It’s not just about our survival now, but about preserving the legacy of a species that has all but faded into the annals of cosmic history.
“The Malquarans destroyed your civilization for their ownentertainment,” I say. “The least we can do is set you free from them.”
Arty’s response is immediate, its digital form brightening with what can only be described as joy. It’s a poignant moment, witnessing this semblance of happiness in an entity that embodies the last vestiges of its people.
Hand in hand, Zoey and I walk through the jungle, our steps synchronized, a silent bond unifying us. The path back to the power station is familiar now, a route we’ve traversed in what feels like another lifetime.
We’re cautious, ever aware of the dangers that lurk within this alien landscape, but there’s a sense of purpose in our stride.
Reaching the power station, we find it just as we left it, a relic of advanced technology and lost knowledge. The building stands silent, waiting for someone to awaken it from its slumber.
I approach the crank, a pivotal component in restoring the station to its former glory. Grasping it firmly, I begin to turn it. The crank is heavy, resistant, a challenge to my strength.
When I can’t manage it with my own abilities, I need but wait a few minutes for the furry beast version of me to appear, before trying again and, this time, succeeding.
Still, every turn requires effort, the muscles in my arms straining with the exertion. But I persevere, fueled by the desire to help Arty, to honor the legacy of its species.
Zoey stands beside me, her presence a source of encouragement. Together, we watch as the crank slowly begins to move, the machinery of the power station groaning to life.
And then, as the crank turns, the station comes alive.Lights flicker on, one by one, illuminating the interior with a soft, ambient glow.
The transformation is gradual but steady, the darkness giving way to light, the silence replaced by the hum of awakening technology.
The entire station is soon bathed in light, a brilliant display of power and energy. It’s a sight to behold, the resurrection of a piece of history long thought lost.
The lights symbolize hope, a beacon in the darkness, a sign that even in the most desolate of circumstances, there is a chance for renewal and rebirth.
As the lights envelop us, Zoey and I stand in awe, witnesses to a moment of profound significance. We’ve done more than just restore power to a forgotten station; we’ve reignited a spark of life in a species whose story was nearly at its end.
It’s a victory, small in the grand scheme of the cosmos, but monumental in its meaning.
Zoey
The power station starts to shudder and shake, a deep rumbling that resonates through its very foundations. M’ijel and I exchange a quick, alarmed glance before hurrying outside, instinctively understanding that something monumental is about to occur.
As we step out into the open, the entire platform undergoes a transformation that defies belief.
Before our eyes, the platform contorts and reshapes itself into the form of a giant alien creature. It’s a colossal entity, composed of the very rock and soil of the platform. We stand there, awestruck and minuscule, as the creature’s giant hand, fashioned from stone and earth, gently lifts us up.
At its head is the temple, perched like a crown upon the creature’s head. Its eyes are bright and shining with the power station’s light. On its shoulder, standing as if the voice of reason, is Arty.
“Thank you for doing us this service,” Arty says. “We are eternally grateful. Before we create a portal away from here and to your new home, we must remove the poison theMalquarans put in your bodies. Please relax. This will be over in a moment.”
In its immense palm, the creature carefully pulls the yellow gas from M’ijel’s body, as well as the gold gemstone in his palm.
I watch as the transformation reverses, returning him to his normal state — whether he’s near me or not. Then, it’s my turn.
The white gem is extracted from me too. I feel it leave my body, and with it, a weight I hadn’t even realized I was carrying lifts from my chest. It’s not painful, but the sensation is profound, like shedding a burden I’ve unknowingly borne.
No sooner has the transformation completed than Malquaran ships appear, their intentions clear as they open fire on the giant alien being. The air is filled with the sound of their weapons, a cacophony of aggression and hostility against this newly awakened guardian of a lost civilization.
The Malquarans might be expert planners but clearly even they didn’t expect this!
