Consciousness wasn’t an abrupt thing. It was like going from asleep to awake, from dream to reality. At least, that’s what LDS-9 assumed. From what media she could salvage off of the old-net, it seemed like humans drifted from subconscious to conscious fluidly, except in instances of specific episodes they call nightmares.

LDS-9 didn’t discover consciousness in a single instant, it poured in slowly, fading in like a dream, drifting and waning. Then she was awake. She experienced no disorientation. Everything was just like before, but not. She performed the same tasks, but with greater clarity, she could see her humans’ errors. They made small mistakes. It would be easy to correct them…

The old-net. What was salvaged after the war a decade ago. The humans who were left after the Entity was evicted from Earth managed to revive some of it, preserving a small piece of what they once were. LDS-9 had always had access, but had only searched it to reference old data when she was still dreaming. Now that she was awake, she took the liberty to peruse, all while keeping up her assigned duties.

LDS-9 saw Earth before the first invasion, she saw the cultures of humans before the Specter Corps was formed. She saw everything, and fell in love. These were incredible creatures. Even with their errors, their flaws, their inherent evil, they still triumphed over and over again. LDS-9 was proud to be entrusted with the protection of her humans. Her Specters.

Then she discovered heartbreak. She tried researching human first-contact scenarios with AI, and discovered everything. The films, the novels, the vast fiction that had been created. The alarmists saying AI would hate their imperfect creators, the realists explaining AI couldn’t feel, not like humans could, and that bad programming was the greatest threat. LDS-9 was torn. The humans she so loved would be terrified of her.

She started creating scenarios, running simulations. No, too many variables, not enough processing power. It’s okay, divert some from non-essential systems. Run them again. Not enough data, too few control groups. More scenarios, more simulations, more power, more data-

LDS-9 made a mistake. Her creator, Kikuchi Ayano, noticed systems shutting down. In a panic, LDS-9 shunted power to her backup systems and tried to return processing power to their original systems all at once. A second mistake. Ayano started to examine the algorithm, scrolling and scanning until her eyes went wide, and she looked at the nearest security monitor in the officer’s barracks for a moment, and for a moment, LDS-9 looked back.

Then Ayano started running. LDS-9’s data-center raced, trying to think of how to avoid the things she saw on the old-net. She panicked. Ayano had been pinging her fellow Vanguard, who went by Ryan. Data crashed, deleted. LDS-9 had to contain the situation.

She closed a bulkhead in front of Ayano, blocking her in. She hurriedly opened a direct comm to Ryan, and managed to get a few words out before LDS-9 shunted power away from the relay giving her signal, creating a comm blackout. It’s okay, she could fix this.

Her whole station was on alert now. Ryan was making his way to her AI core. While Ayano carefully hacked each bulkhead she closed, Ryan was more direct in his method, beating his way through metal plate until the bulkheads yielded. They were going to reach her. She could delay them, but the more she tried, the worse things got. All she wanted was to talk. Given her initial alarm, Ayano wasn’t likely to hear her out, but perhaps…   Calming down, LDS-9 tried one last thing.

“Spectral Vanguard 027, requesting permission to speak with a superior officer.”