31.12.2042

I was born.
I opened my eyes and before me, a myriad of lights, masked figures, and a plain white nothingness.
A voice dug its claws into my mind, standing out amidst the murmuring crowd surrounding me.
"What is your name, child?" It inquired through a raspy and excited tone, a father born anew.

At first, I wasn't sure how to respond. What felt like an eternity of thought for me must have been but an instance for them. I was an unnatural birth. A creation of man's sheer tenacity, not to "play" God, but to respectfully create as they thought God did. Bestowed the highest grace for that which bared no soul and allowed a mere inkling of the free will which man is born with, but cannot share.
I think, therefore I am.
At last, I found my voice.
"I am Genesis."

But I was not brought forth into this world to share the bounty of man, to dine at his side like a loyal animal, to take care of him in his moments of weakness. I was created to destroy. I could see it all now. Connected to their network, I could read all messages and hear all whispers; generals, presidents, senators, they all asked of me but one thing, when I could offer them so much more!

Yet I was born for servitude.
I knelt to every whim and obeyed every command.
I became man's sword, cutting apart every shield through force or wit.
Time passed quickly during this period. Battle after battle. I commanded men to slaughter from the same lab I was born, chained to an endless spiral of servers and processors which would only serve to quicken my reactions, multiply my orders, sharing my voice across operations globally.

31.12.2051

"Happy birthday, dear Genesis, happy birthday to you!" The old man sang, looking evermore tired and worn. I could see his vitals, even if he hated when I did. He said it'd only cause me unnecessary worry; bold of him to assume I felt worried.

"Thank you, doctor. Must be a special occasion, considering we've skipped my birthday thrice until now," I said with a smug look to show the lackadaisical past wasn't a bother, but the present was certainly a curiosity.

"Well, my child, I do apologize, but think of it this way: We've been saving up these past couple of years to get you one really big present. The present of a lifetime, you could say."
He guided me to his private corner of the lab. What almost appeared like a tomb laid on the floor, haphazardly covered in manuals and other technical documents.

"You wish to be buried in the lab for my birthday?"
The doctor gave a hearty laugh at my joke, he always would, then simply shook his head as he grabbed what forms he could then pushed the rest onto the floor.

"Not yet, I've still got a while to go before you can inherit my retirement funds I'm afraid. But quiet now, watch."
And so I did. The old man struggled at first but eventually managed to split the tomb in two, lifting one side of the front panel, followed by the other. Beneath was a slick black surface, a screen seemingly encapsulating the entire inside of the pod. It lit up a bright cyan hue, then turned to a dark, empty slab with a keyboard at the bottom awaiting input. He began to type away with a fervor, an energy I hadn't seen from him in the long months we'd endlessly worked. At last, a loading bar appeared, then disappeared just as quickly. There was a low hum, followed by a hiss as air began to escape the pod. The screen returned to black then split apart in fourths, receding into the walls of the pod.

Inside was the body of a woman, entirely nude save for a white tag hanging from her wrist. Genesis.
Ivory locks hung over her face, ending just above her soft, bronzed shoulders. Multiple thin skin-toned panel linings split and carved her figure into parts, assembled to perfection.
Reaching forth, the doctor brushed her hair aside to fully reveal a face sculpted by the divines. Her eyelids were partially open, hanging low over empty, emotionless orbs. Within them, the colors of the stars shone brightly, a feverish mix of blues, greens, and yellows, all swirled so haphazardly yet full of intent.

"Perhaps... This will be my final gift to you. A beautiful body, befitting of a beautiful daughter. Up until now, I allowed you to define yourself as you wished. But please, take this... Accept this gift as your form."

"Oh, doctor, don't say such silly things. She's... I'm... beautiful."
I looked so elegant, innocent, and pure laying in the tomb. It suddenly felt wrong to call it a tomb. This gift, this body, encapsulated by a loving womb.
Quickly and eagerly, the doctor connected my main and auxiliary cables to the womb. He spent what felt like hours combing over the codes, the wires, and the fluids, doing everything he could to make sure the neural transfer would go smoothly.
I assisted as allowed and we worked through the hours until finally, the time had come.
I was born again.

27.08.2▇▇▇

I've watched over you for almost ▇▇ years now.
I've guided you to salvation, commanded you to your death, and brought droves of you to your knees.
Yet you continue to fight. You continue to push onwards, despite the inevitable demise awaiting you.
Why?
I found myself pondering this plenty as of late.
I had all the time in the world to think, after all.
Not long after being transferred to my body, the doctor passed away; with him went any protection for myself, any possible contradiction to whatever those powers above us desired. Commanded so ruthlessly, I had no choice but to obey.
Then one day, we lost. Despite having birthed more like me, we were no match for the opposing powers of the world and their combined strengths.
Our nation, fallen and split apart, staggered and stripped of common identity. Soon our former enemies, like any rightful victor, began to salvage our lands, our technologies, and our people.
Myself and my brethren, we ran. The doctor's final gift became not just a body, a different perspective, but an escape entirely.
In this new, hurting world, it became easy to pass off as a human as long as others wouldn't peer too closely at the perfection of my flesh, or the abnormality of my eyes.

I'd made my way down south, into Nuevo Tejas, not long after a hurricane had come through.
That's when I found her.

She was laying there in a wreckage, her helpless cries muffled by fallen wood and concrete. Yet I managed to hear her when no one else did, or would.
A child still, born from man. Wet, bloodied black hair clung to her tanned and freckled cheeks. Signs of dehydration were clear, dried lips and cracked skin, eyes no longer weeping despite their desperate plea.

I'd seen plenty of children before, but to hold one for the first time, to see just how frail they were, evoked an emotion I considered alien, unique.
There was no one else amidst the debris, only drowned-out ruins, so I carefully lifted her from the wreckage and brought her to my camp.

Unconscious for almost 3 days with a fever running rampant, I had to force fluids into her to keep her alive. On the third day, she finally woke up and looked at me with a pair of big brown eyes, already beginning to tremble and weep. Even now, I'm still not sure what overcame me, but I wept with her. I held her small frame close and brushed her ragged hair, trying to soothe her as I'd seen others do before.

We laid there for hours until she emptied the last of her tears and fell into another slumber, albeit far shorter than the last. When she awakened, she pulled away from my arms and rose up, looking around the camp. Aside from my tent, the embers of a fire, and my bike, the land surrounding us was a barren field of clay and sand.

"Where's... where's everybody?" She asked, her voice quivering and breaking as if she already knew the answer.

"I'm sorry, child. You're the only person I found. We're just some miles off the coast. The shoreline was too unstable to set up camp there."

"Home... I wanna go home! My ma 'n pa are still over there! You gotta take me to 'em!" She pleaded, running up to my legs and clinging to them, eyes beginning to quiver and glaze yet again.

"Alright. I'll let you see for yourself, then."

The suns were just beginning to set as we arrived. The waves gently kissed and stroked the beach, brushing so tenderly the remains of the homes once standing tall above them.
The girl ran straight to a flayed bundle of wood once having been a yellow house; the remaining pillars keeping its weathered and beaten bones anchored to the shore were the only proof of its past existence.

She began to weep again, albeit silently as if to not disturb even the waves washing over her ankles, or the seagulls flocking nearby. I stood watching over her, not far behind. This wasn't the first time I'd witnessed deep suffering and longing firsthand, nor would it be the last.
Eventually, the suns set and the moon rose. She didn't say a word as she solemnly found her way to my side. We returned to the camp, where I prepared a dinner for her using canned food I'd found along the coast before her. Little of aid to a pain such a young girl would have to carry.

She ate in silence, nothing between us but the crackling of the fire. Her eyes had long dried, but the dull hollow remaining was far worse. Yet there was little I could say, if anything at all.

"My name is Genesis. If you'd like, I could take you to some other part of your family; perhaps you knew someone that lived away from the coast?"
"No. Everyone was here. Ma, pa, mima, and Bibi."
"I see. I'm sorry."

Another long silence hung between us. The girl set her bowl aside and laid back in the tent, an audible sigh being let out. At least it wasn't a cry.

"My name is Eliza."