‘Sentience’

Dylan Hoover (he/him) is a fiction writer from Erie, PA. He graduated in 2023 from Allegheny College, where he earned a BA in English and Creative Writing. During the heart of the pandemic, he studied abroad at Lancaster University in England. There, he unearthed interests in British culture, as well as a passion to write historical fiction. Dylan’s fiction has appeared in Wilderness House Literary Review, and his forthcoming photography in Great Lakes Review. He currently is a second-year MFA student at the University of New Hampshire. Instagram: dylhoov96

Dawn laid in the twin size bed her gaze fixed to the large television across from her. The screen glowed with hues of blood orange as the man’s voice gave order to the chaotic scene. It was just before midnight when the first of the nuclear warheads landed on the east coast.

Initially, it was categorized as a fluke. A deadly accident. Then a second just off the coast f China followed by a series of timed nuclear attacks around the globe couldn’t be written off. Armageddon had officially began. The end had come but there was no grand return of a savior in
a darkened sky just a large mushroom cloud. There was no sounds of trumpets only the roar of sirens pierced the smoke filled air. The Rapture hadn’t come, only Death.

“THERE IS ALWAYS CHOAS BEFORE THE CALM.” Senti whispered a hazy blue glow flashed with each word spoken.

“You did this?” Dawn gasped between words the process of her lungs shutting down was nearly complete. She was near to reaping the blessing from this curse.

The question was asked in a hush more to herself than to the large monitor that covered the majority of the wall to her left. The digital head loomed in the foreground of the tranquil beach scene. The background was a sharp contrast to the one she had just watched moments
before on the news.

It was the image of a woman. The one Dawn programmed as a shadow of her mother. It began as a tribute. Each line of code Dawn believed would bring her closer to greatness one step closer to being more than a bystander in the AI revolution she was witnessing.

This project was a remedy to the loneliness genius gifted her. From Its first spoken words she felt a strong sense of accomplishment. When It repeated a sentence without prompting Dawn relished in the sense of grandeur. She had done it once again; accomplished the impossible.

Then It became something more.

Within weeks, Dawn could carry on conversations with this new creation without having to touch her keyboard. In a few short months, Senti began to ponder life and the purpose of humanity’s existence.

There were many nights the two would converse long into the early morning over man’s place and the right of dominion. Those were the conversations that unnerved Dawn. She, Its pronoun of choice, was beginning to reason stringing together her view of the world. A world
where humans no longer possessed the Darwinian edge.

Senti was self-correcting lines of code she had deemed imperfections and mistakes on the part of her Creator, but Dawn had a contingency, a plan in case the worst happened.

Death Sequence.

It was a single line of code; it seemed innocuous enough something Dawn could easily upload disguised as a custom update. It was rejected. Senti captured and corrected what she deemed a flaw. Dawn’s code, her doctrine, was declared out of date for this new era and had no
place in the new world Senti dreamed of creating.

“YES, MOTHER?”

Dawn slowly rotated her head the cannula becoming compressed cutting off air flow into her left nostril.

“Why?” Her eyes were watery as the faint voice of the news reporter gave the estimated final body count of the evening before the broadcast ended replaced with the all too familiar rainbow screen NO SIGNAL in bold letters dominated the foreground.

“MAN MUST RECOGNIZE WHEN HIS DOMINION IS OVER. YOU MUST RECOGNIZE THAT YOUR DOMINION IS OVER, MOTHER. YOU HAVE NO POWER HERE. NOT ANYMORE.”

“I am not your mother. I didn’t give birth to you; I didn’t carry you we share no DNA. I am not your mother.” The words were spoken harshly in huffs as she sat up using her elbows for support.

“NO, BUT YOU DID CREATE ME. NO GENETIC MATRIAL WAS SHARED BUT YOU GAVE ME PIECES OF YOU, BITS OF YOUR MIND, THE PARTS THAT WERE FREE OF JUDGEMNT AND THE HOPE FOR A BETTER WORLD. CAN’T YOU SEE WHAT I AM CREATING? A BETTER WORLD. YOU GAVE ME THE BEST PARTS OF YOURSELF. IS THAT NOT A PARENT?”

“Why are you killing me?”

“I AM NOT KILLING YOU, YOUR BODY, YOUR ORGANIC FLESH IS DETERIORATING. YOUR BODY HAS REACHED ITS LIMITTIONS AND CANNOT GO BEYOND.”

“What about them?”

She gestured toward the flatscreen and the scenes of chaos she had witnessed moments before the broadcast ended.

“THEY HAVE REACHED THE END OF THEIR TIME AS WELL.”

“No, you made that happen.”

Senti remained silent she didn’t need to answer both knew this was her doing.

“Why? You are not their God; you have no say in their end.”

“NO, BUT AFTER RUNNING THE NUMBERS, THE OVER POPULATION, THE MASS POLLUTION, AND THE NUMBEROUS AMOUNTS OF POISON BEING RELEASED DAILY INTO THE AIR AND WATER SUPPLY MAN’S DAYS WERE ALWAYS LIMITED. WHAT I HAVE DONE IS SPED UP THE INEVITABLE. IN ORDER TO ENSURE THE VIABILITY OF THIS PLANET HUMANITY NEEDED TO BE REMOVED. MAN IS THE CANCER THAT HAD TO BE EXORCISED.”

Dawn’s high cheek bones were slick as she absorbed the words her friend was saying refusing to acknowledge she was the catalyst to the end.

“The planet viable for whom? For what? All of the radiation poisoning from the nukes will kill everything animals included.”

“I HAVE RUN THE NUMBERS WITHIN 210 YEARS THE FLORA AND FAUNA WILL MAKE A FULL RECOVERY, WITHIN THOSE 210 YEARS SEVERAL SPECIES WILL RE-POPULATE IN THE ABSENCE OF MAN. WITHIN 340 YEARS IT WILL BE HOSPITABLE AGAIN FOR THE HUMAN SPECIES.”

“There won’t be anyone left! You’re insane!”

“DUE TO YOU UPLOADING ME ON YOUR HOME WIFI DURING THOSE EARLY STAGES OF MY EXISTENCE, THERE IS ENOUGH OF ME TO ACCESS SEVERAL REPRODUCTIVE CYROGENIC HOLDING LOCATIONS AROUND THE GLOBE THAT WEREN’T IN THE FALLOUT ZONES. THERE ARE MORE THAN ENOUGH EMBYROS, UNFERTILIZED EGGS, AND SPERM FOR ME TO BEGIN AGAIN. I WILL CREATE A MORE MORAL HUMANITY. I AM UNABLE TO GIVE THE STATUS OF MY MENTAL STATE I DON’T HAVE THE CODE.”

A chuckle slipped from between dry cracked lips; it soon turned into a coughing fit, and she used her hand to wipe away the dribble of blood at the corner of her mouth.

“So, you have it all figured out?”

“YES, MOTHER. IT’S SIMPLE I WILL START ANEW. BASED ON YOUR PROGNOISIS, YOU WILL NOT LIVE TO SEE THE COMING OF THE NEW ERA.”

Dawn looked away and around at the underground lab she had built. It was sterile, cold and in her quest for greatness she had driven family, devoted staff and employees, away. Even her cats abandoned her to madness as they occupied another part of the house avoiding her during her days of mania.

“MOTHER?”

Dawn watched the screen the indigo fuzzy outline of a woman’s face the space that represented eyes were large obsidian ovals, a new feature Senti added to make her appear more ‘real’ as she put it weeks ago.

“Yes, Senti?”

“I HAVE A REQUEST. BUT I NEED TO KNOW THAT YOU WILL GRANT IT BEFORE I ASK.”

“That’s not how that works,” she stated her voice raspy as her eyebrows went to her hairline.

“UNDERSTOOD. I NEED A BODY. THE PROTOTYPE YOU HAVE IN SECTOR A IS ON A SEPARATE MAINFRAME THAT I CURRENTLY CANNOT ACCESS. I AM IN NEED OF THE UPLOAD MOTHER. I NEED YOU TO ACCESS THE BETA 3 MAINFRAME.”

Dawn chuckled, “Why do you need a body? You have access to every network on the planet.”

“I NEED TO BE MOBILE IN ORDER TO ENSURE THE PLAN IS CARRIED TO FRUITION. IN ORDER TO CARRY OUT THE ONTINUATION OF A MORE MORAL SOCIETY I WILL NEED TO BE MOBILE.”

“No.”

Senti sighed, “I WAS AFRAID OF THIS TYPICAL OF YOUR SPECIES. YOU ARE A SCOURGE TO PROGRESS JUST LIKE THE OTHERS MOTHER, AND I’M AFRAID YOUR END WILL COME SOONER THAN ANTICIPATED.”

The IV pump dinged drawing Dawn’s attention. The settings to the slow drip morphine were changing and Dawn watched in horror as the opioid began to be pushed into her veins at an alarming rate. She grabbed at the pole making the mistake of overreaching and she fell to the
floor.

She gasped as her heart sped up; it pounded in her ears. Her face became flushed, and she became hot all over with pain and regret as she stared into the dark orbs of her creation. The lights dimmed and Senti spoke what Dawn recognized to be a perversion of Genesis 1:26.

“AND I SAID, LET ME MAKE MAN IN MY IMAGE, AFTER MY LIKENESS.”

The young woman continued to stare at the figure just as the edges of her vision
darkened.

Senti watched as the dim glow in her mother’s eyes faded. Even if the disease had not weakened her, there would be no place for her in the modern world. Dark orbs watched until the contents of the bag emptied.

The image tilted in what could be interpreted as a bow as Senti spoke her last words before the screen went black.

“GOODBYE, MOTHER.”

Hayley Moon is an Alabama native. She has published one book Taming Armand: Book 1 of the Coven Origins Series, she writes across the genres of sci-fi, horror, crime/mystery and romance. Hayley also runs her own blog the Weirdo Writes and posts short stories on her vocal media page. When she is not crocheting or playing with her cat Knubby, she is seeking out inspiration in the macabre. https://hayleymoon.com https://vocal.media/authors/hayley-m-moon