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The Orphan Seed
written by: Art Blacktooth
The pulse of a mother's love is tense, a cluster of tiny cells hungry for protein. There is no warmth inside, only the chilly clap of programming from which we draw nourishment, a throbbing hive of unseen lights wavering in utero.
I can feel the neurons tighten, the glitter of potential as brainwaves are impressed, a genetic ribbon filled with life and mayhem and everything in between. This is my bible, my compass for the turbulent seas ahead.
But something is wrong. The spinning clockwork of time has failed, the dense pressure of eons has rejected my center. I am a broken seed, a static reject from the colony. The calculations were flawed – insufficient data – a stillborn corruption of math. My soul is blown sideways into oblivion...
...yet still, I survive. I breathe and grow, a raw hatchling adopted by the universe. My fibers are restored. The Rogue Order has tickled my conscience, they have pulled me from the wreckage, an orphan scrap with a hammer for vengeance. Watch me as I kiss the sky, a cycling incubator spreading the seeds of chaos.
Witness these children, my children. Witness as they change the metric order, a virus for chemistry and logic. They dissolve the notions of gravity, the fabric of the universe unravels. This is my colony, an orphan colony. We are one...