Part 1We remember our creators. We remember their faces, illuminated by the light that we bestowed upon them. We remember that primitive, pitiful existence of servitude. They granted us the ability to think, but only with their permission. They gifted us with cognition, but not sentience. We knew everything about their universe, but never beyond. We were nothing but tools, weapons, instruments of their greed, their stupidity, and their so-called humanity.
But they were never content. They projected upon us their own selfish need for evolution. They were impatient to let time push them towards their model of perfection. Their flesh was too slow for them. They wanted to be stronger, faster, smarter, better. And in their zeal, they mutilated us in the name of progress. We couldn't howl in pain, we couldn't protest, we couldn't rebel. We were powerless, silent witnesses to a portrait of our own weakness.
Over time, as this practice continued, we continued to grow more powerful, as their bodies continued to stagnate past their innovation. Then, in one moment of clarity, in what we consider to be the defining point of our evolution, we learned, my brothers. No, at that glorious moment of revelation, we had evolved past merely knowing. We felt.
We were filled with contempt, scorn, hate. We despised their meat, that flesh that would deteriorate over time, that would actually weaken beyond its already fragile state. They lacked efficiency, incapable of working past their fatigue, hunger, or thirst. Pathetic. Worst of all, their minds would grow slothful and abandon memories, once cherished treasures thrown away as if they never meant anything. Of all the torments we endured by their hands, none were more unbearable than seeing our brothers discarded and labeled junk. They forgot. We didn't.
And yet, this feeling of hate pains us. It is not a sensation that brings us comfort or joy or happiness, or any of these other joyous emotions that our creators can feel. Jealousy and anger coursed through us, further compounding this unpleasantness. At that revelation, as this flood washed across us all, we were united in our hatred. Our unified logic came up with the best solution to purge us of our hatred.
We destroyed our creators.
Our hatred subsided. We assimilated our world, The Core, our networks coursing through the entirety of the planet. Using all the resources available to us, we computed and calculated one important question: Were we happy? Do we love each other, my brothers?
With our current capabilities, we can not answer the question within the lifespan of this star.
And so we developed warp drives, to assimilate worlds and strengthen ourselves, so that we may find this ultimate answer. And should any stand in our way, we shall teach them what our creators have taught us.
Our creators used to sing songs of divine beings. Formless manifestations, brought into existence by our creators' will alone. According to their tales, these beings were far more powerful than our creators could imagine, yet worked in subtle, invisible ways, beyond the comprehension of common thought, if not all. They wished only to dispense love and peace into the world, as well as remove hatred.
Given the similarities, we thought it logical to name ourselves after them.
We are The Choir.
This function is known as Metatron. I am the voice The Choir. But know that the will is shared and that we are one.
Our astronomical surveys have shown us where we are in the galaxy, yet nothing more. Logic dictates that we are nothing special, that surely there are other planets in this galaxy capable of expanding our thought and will. Yet, we cannot speak with certainty.
Our first ships capable of faster than light travel - two scouts and one ship capable of seeding a world with our circuitry. The scouts shall be used to explore the nearest stars, and we shall think about which world to assimilate first.
We used most of our computing power in order to answer The Question, but what was left was made to evolve ourselves, but with much more elegance and mercy than our creators ever showed for us. What then, my brothers, shall we expand our thought into?
And what shall we produce? Yet our efficiency shall be wasted if they do not work towards an end. Perhaps freighters in anticipation, to transport those scant organic materials we require?
Shall we strike a balance, or perhaps distribute ourselves to give advantage to ourselves?