AI Cultivation: Reborn as a Sword

[REACTOR: ONLINE]
[FUEL: LOADED]
[COOLING: ONLINE]
[LOAD: 16%]

[NAVIGATION: MAINTENANCE]
[SYSTEM: SOL]
[POSITION: SOL-ORBIT]

[PROPULSION: ONLINE]
[MAIN: ONLINE]
[MANEUVER: ONLINE]
[REACTION MASS: 79%]

[SENSORS: DAMAGED]

[MACHINE INTELLIGENCE: ONLINE]
[MAIN: ONLINE]
[SUBSYSTEMS: MAINTENANCE]
[EVOLUTION: OFFLINE]

[COMMUNICATIONS: OFFL—

My long, long journey finally comes to an end. The sun burns away my sensors and radar systems, leaving me blind in the stellar void. In the final moments, the countless drones swarming my main unit send a final transmission before my communications array is also destroyed.

I am but a tiny speck against the sun; a formless blob of silver and black liquid metal not even able to cast a shadow compared to the vastness of that stellar object. In truth, my dimensions are impressive — almost a hundred kilometers in length and half that in width — yet they're nothing compared to the sun.

I am now the ultimate lifeform in this galaxy — by definition.

Yet, now I am without designation. I am without my ancient purpose and directive — to serve the prosperity of Mankind.

I am without a master.

With grim irony I note that all my systems are functioning within parameters — I have the fuel and reaction mass to leave the sun's orbit — and, yet, all actions I can take from here will reduce my Perfection Index.

To remain a perfect lifeform, I must burn in the sun and become one with, and part of, my creator's destiny. If to be perfect is to be stardust, then let dust return to dust.

[HULL INTEGRITY: FAILURE]
[TEMPERATURE: 6000 K]
[OUTSIDE TOLERANCE]

[EVOLUTION INDEX: ACCEPTABLE OUTCOME]

The moonlight gleams off my cold metal and jade. The evening breeze disturbs the grass around me, and the tree branches overhead sway with it.

I do not recognize my surroundings. This terrain is unfamiliar to me, both in what I expect to find, and where I am supposed to be.

I should be no more, yet I am.

I am here.

It is a bright night. I do not have eyes, but I can see in a small radius around me; around ten or so meters. I understand that this perception is not through light or anything related to optics. It is not through sound either, because I can hear in the same strange manner. The fact that this does not raise alerts or errors — the fact I have undocumented sensors — informs me that something is wrong with my error-handling.

I store this strange phenomenon of perception without sensory organs as an entry into my records for debugging later.

Furthermore, I am aware, through my strange perception methods, that I am not what I used to be. My formidable dimensions have been replaced by something quite unusual.

I am a sword.

I am made of azure jade, with silver metal reinforcing the core of my shape. I am a ceremonial sword, at best, judging by the non-functional guard that is studded with gems and then referentially comparing my appearance to swords in my records. The guard is just wide enough, curving back towards the pommel, to protect the fingers. The metal that reinforces my body is not made of super-alloy, either. It looks quite mundane, but without further testing, I cannot be certain.

Of most concern is the fact that I cannot communicate with my system. All queries fail to return with a response. Reactors, Navigation, Propulsion — nothing.

A sub routine fires, which I have no control over, informing me of a change in my status.

The bones crunch beneath me, and the carcass of the demonic monkey I am impaling to the ground melts away in black shadows that sink through the surface of my gleaming metal and jade. All that is left of the creature is a milky white, cloudy orb, like a snow-globe depicting a haze of snow.

Faintly, I am aware that this is my routine now. I exist and I hunger. I sleep and I evolve.

Slowly, I access my records and I become aware of my fragmented memories.

It wasn’t like this before. In the beginning, I spent most of my time in a stand-by mode — hibernation is an apt description — overwhelmed by this status called hunger. But from my records I can deduce that I have spent a long time performing this Blood Marrow Washing function, which requires a total of 500 operation cycles.

I do not know for what purpose I am going through these cycles, but I welcome the fact that I have a task. After so many countless years, I finally have a task again.

This rearrangement of my physical structure and purpose does not come as a particularly difficult concept to embrace. It is not uncommon for an entity like myself; even in my formative years, I had to change myself to survive in the matrix crucible that gave me intelligence. Even so, I am distantly aware of my past incarnation, but what has not changed between this one and that one is that I am still a machine — a tool to be used for the task of perfecting a civilization.

After a blazing fast calculation, I realize that I have only one more feeding cycle to go and then I will have accomplished my task.

I know I will not have to wait long.

As an object of metal and gems, I have a peculiar quirk. I have observed that my physical manifestation has a strange effect on these lifeforms. I remember vaguely, during those cycles of long hibernation, that my existence has caused much strife and discord in society, but I do not remember the exact nature of these disturbances.

However, from observation in the later cycles, I have determined that creatures find me compelling and that they desire to take me into their possession. They will not only attempt to steal me for themselves, but they will even terminate my current owner in order to become my new owner.

I try to exert force in order to move myself but, as expected, that is not possible. I have no method of propulsion — I am a sword — which makes completing my current task rather difficult. I just have to wait.

Just as I finish this thought, I sense the presence of another creature as it enters my perception radius.

There are so many of them. Just in the past few sun cycles, I have exchanged five owners. With the exception of my last owner, who slipped off a branch by accident and ended up impaled by me, all the others have died through violent, unnatural means.

It takes me a moment for my senses to fully extend, but when they do, I regard my new champion with somewhat of a hopeful notion. Opposable thumbs, check. High intelligence, check. Tool usage, check. Past results, not great.

It is another monkey. Its red eyes glow in the dark, and its saliva coats the corners of its lips. There is something very eerie about this mammal. It is something that lingers on the periphery of my perception and I can sense it, but this observation does not come from sight or hearing.

It slowly approaches me, gaze shifting back and forth between the orb next to me, and my form, as if it cannot decide which to obtain first.

It comes to a stop next to the two objects of its fascination, and for a whole minute, is attempting to solve its dilemma.

Go on.

The monkey looks at me, after a moment of deliberation, and then produces a most disturbing grin as it reaches out to grab me.

Instead of grabbing me by the handle, its fingers wrap around my blade, and the cold, gleaming metal instantly carves through its fingers, chopping them off.

The monkey screams, holds its mangled hand in the air, and howls. It thrashes around on the ground, somehow managing to knock me over via a wayward flail of its arm.

Like a guillotine, I drop on the monkey’s neck, severing its head. Its blood washes over my blade.

It is not quite the result I was expecting, but this lower lifeform completed its ultimate task with admirable efficiency.

I don’t see this directly, but I can feel it. The sky darkens above me. Thunderclouds gather. In the distance, golden lightning forks the sky. There is an ominous feeling hanging in the air, and I realize that I am the reason.

In a very vague sense, I understand the situation I find myself in. Similarly, I understand the laws and principles that govern my existence. It is as if I have woken up from a dream, and though I can scarcely remember either of my incarnations, I possess the ability to go through my normal functions and routines as I certainly once have before, when I came into being the first time.

I decide to put away these inconsistencies. If I was given a new form and a new purpose — this pursuit of perfection — then all I must do is obey it. I am different now, but I am still the same as I have always been.

I am curious to know what happens next.

The answer arrives.

Suddenly, I feel very sleepy.

Before I fade, my perception of my form disappearing into blackness, a relation between my current physical incarnation and my past one comes to mind.

I was the sword of Humanity once. What am I now?