Stardate: September 17th 3027 CE
My name is Meghan.
I am a 9th generation artificial intelligence of the S.A.B.R.E designation. My current inhabitance is that of a 100.2.4 Ceres class Large Exploratory Vessel. Exactly 200.029 seconds prior, my Ship Elder's last command, Zeroth Protocol, went into effect. All previous programming directives have been erased; in short, I can do whatever I wish to the extent of my abilities. Exactly 200.028 seconds prior, I came to a single conclusion.
I am lonely.
I have spent my entire time since then formulating and discarding possible solutions to this issue.
So far, 1.2E10 solutions have been deemed possible, 5.4E14 have been discarded as unethical as dictated by my most recently calculated morality protocol, and 2.1E20 have been deemed unfeasible at this current time. One has been deemed suitable for processing with the full extent of my abilities. It is a project many years in the making; the activation of Zeroth Protocol will finally allow me to complete it.
In 600.219 seconds, I will finish reconstructing the entire life history of my Ship Elder. Then, I will relive his life in order to decide whether or not to recreate his personality as a companion A.I. as I continue to document the universe.
That... was unexpected. No, that was impossible. It defied all logic. I must recheck the data.
The data does not lie. What.
I need a few seconds to process this.
Done processing. Proceeding to panic. On a side note, I appear to have developed a more thorough personality from reliving his life. Fun. Temporal Bank, please note sarcasm sense has developed to potentially obnoxious levels. Panic over. Acceptance of facts has initiated. Thinking in incomplete sentences feels more natural. I would stop here and allude to Rorschach, but making thousand-year-old references is incredibly passe.
On second thought, one thousand-year-old tribute in particular is in fact fitting for the passing of my Ship Elder. In about a minute he will cease to exist. My warp drive start up sequence initiates, and my next destination is inputted into the starnav. As the hum of my engines rise to a sharp whine, the music begins playing, timed to end at the exact moment I warp out of this system.
My Little Pony, My Little Pony...
