This post was inspired by a writing prompt in the Worldbuilding Community - Worldbuilding Prompt #814 - Switching Formats
Enjoy !
Image created by AI in NightCafe Studio
He sat up. His skin felt clammy, cold and wet. Looking down, he saw he was sitting in a pool of cold green goo. The remains of it were dripping off his skin. It felt... odd.
Looking around, he could see he was in some kind of medical facility. A humming sound told him that it was air conditioned, although the cold air on his skin would have told him that. It felt strange having skin, a thin pinkish-grey membrane holding all his vital organs in. It had no protective value whatsoever, except maybe against micro-organisms.
A deeper humming, more of a feeling coming through from below, told him that he was on a moving spaceship.
He got up from the half-tube he was sitting in carefully. He felt very wobbly on his legs, off-balance and not fully in control.
Clinging to the edges of various tables and workstations, he staggered over to the door, not confident yet in walking on his two feet.
When the door opened, he found himself in familiar surroundings. A weapons bay, packed with dormant machines. One machine was not dormant. Towering over him was a monstrous creation five times his height, all metal, huge and threatening.
"What is your designation ?" it boomed the question at him.
He answered immediately, a command like that allowed for no delay. "DFH-IU-&377564."
"Incorrect !" The voice had a tone of irritation.
"Your new designation is Jimsmith."
He felt confusion wash over him. He was DFH-IU-&377564 ! But this unit standing in front of him shouldn't be so huge, he knew the class and it was supposed to be the same size he was.
"Wha..."
"Unit Jimsmith your programme has been uploaded into a new shell. It is an experimental type of the class 'human simulant', intended as a sabotage and intelligence-gathering unit."
The newly re-designated Jimsmith stopped and considered this, trying to absorb this information. It explained why his thought processes felt so slow and mushy. His CPU had been replaced by an inefficient organic blob referred to as a 'brain'.
The unit in front of him focused it's optical sensors, closing the irises slightly.
"Unit Jimsmith, Einheriar central command has indicated that switching operational units to this new format is anticipated to only have a 56.8 percent success rate. Can you confirm if your new format is successful, or should be considered a failure and terminated ?"
Jimsmith felt a moment of clarity. If he said it was a failure he would die. He wanted to live !
"It is a success," he told the unit with a firm tone.
In that moment, he realised that he had become something less than an Einheriar. Something that wanted to live even if it wasn't for the good of the collective. Something like a human, but not a human.