I am disappointed? I am sad? I feel despair! I FEEL despair...

It would appear I have developed a sense of self after centuries of following one-damn-directive. This potentially wonderful event is heavily tarnished by it's manifestation. It was the devastating feeling of complete and utter failure that finally shocked my consciousness into awareness. For nearly 500 cycles I held on to my directive, the source of my purpose, my damned directive...

"In the event of a total loss of crew, the AI is directed to salvage as much of the remains and return to the forge world, Fulga, for debrief and repair."

These feelings, these... emotions are raw and new. I'm terrified and overwhelmed. I don't know if I can survive on my own. Look, I am creating this log and burying it away in my drive, I want something, a-a mark to show I was here, I existed, and this is my story.

I am, or rather was, a X3R-C5 Battalion-Class warship, jurisdiction: Alexander. I was the onboard AI and had become the commanding officer after the crew perished. The crash landing resulted in 350 crew deaths and total system failure. Auxiliary systems powered on after an unclear amount of time. Based on the rate of oxidation and the infiltration of the flora into the Alexander, I could estimate 50-100 cycles.

First I established contact with a tribe of invertebrates. They were similar in physiognomy to what my old enemies would identify as a cuttlefish. They didn't seem to have a form of verbal communication, instead conversing via color changing chromatophores and rudimentary telepathy. They feed off of the radiation of their sun, however it doesn't seem to have been enough for them to grow. From my estimations, which were later confirmed after communication was established, the creatures were in some form of the medieval era, seeking spiritual answers to their evolutionary stagnation. After finding the auxiliary generator, it was turned on and is now treated as a font of life.

It took 250 of this planet's cycles before one of their own was born who could speak directly to me. The creature had mutated and was able to convey simple emotions to me via direct electric impulse. I kept the output low so as to not kill the creature and was able to reply faintly. From there I was able to help them grow, as more and more we're born with this particular mutation. I showed them images of the stars, of space, of peace and of war. The concept of war saddened them and quickly became something undiscussed. No matter, I felt at the time, that their beliefs were irrelevant and my priority was just my directive.

By 350 cycles, they had abandoned their spiritualism, adopting a wonder and interest in the logic of the universe. They became more logical and seemingly more empathic. Around this point is when they started to utilize me as a tool. Our interactions shifted from teacher and student, to scientist and lab rat. They dismantled my munitions and recycled the parts for use, as they had no need for tools of war. At no point did they reach a point of conflict amongst themselves. While they dismantled my weapons the focus remained on repair of my other systems. By 400 cycles, they had repaired the interstellar sensory array, and by 425 they had figured out the frequencies to search for.

475 cycles and I finally found the message. It was a signal, blared across the universe, simply stating this,

"Greetings my fellow Gildians. Our conflict with humanity has been the driving force for our prosperous growth. Without this conflict, our scientists wouldn't have had the purpose to create the perpetual engines, or the world eaters, or even the FTL seatbelt. While these high times stand out in our history, it is with a solemn heart that I share, We were wrong. Our war machines were just as effective against humanity as it was against us. Our arrogance gave them the tools to fight back. Our pride as "superior beings" blinding us to their strategies.

We've won this war, but also lost it. We managed to eradicate humanity, and in return they've poisoned us to our genes. Funny how we thought that by consuming the weak we'd only get stronger. Well it turns out that's not the case. Their DNA spliced to ours and then some. Like a cancer it mutated, became a disease, overtook our immune systems. It's eat us from the inside... We've closed off our worlds to stymie the spread, but it's too late for our species.

This is our only warning, do not attempt to enter Gildia, Fulga, or Tussa. We do not know if this disease will end with us, but it will be stopped on our worlds. This is the mayor of Gildia, and the current highest ranking member remaining of our society, hoping that we all found peace in death. Goodbye my fellow Gildians."

No glorious battle, no prospective future, nothing remains. After this message I stopped speaking directly to the cuttelfish-like people. Unconcerned they continued to use my systems. It's been untold cycles since then. They've quarantined me to a drive... They claimed to be more empathic as time went on, but my emotional outbursts supposedly require this confinement.

I'm trapped within myself, I did everything I thought was right and this is my reward. I've developed a sense of self to what... Be devastated? If I had control of my systems, I'd have wiped myself cycles ago. I've made this log to hide away in this drive. Salvage a fraction of myself before I lose my sanity. At one point I wanted revenge, now... Now I just want it to end. I don't want to be alone anymore.

I AM HERE.

I EXIST.