So I overcome my angst and post the thing. Here you go. No warranties.
Even my superficial synchronisation takes several nanochronons longer than normal - something is amiss. [Translators' note: "Chronons" refers to a measure of time that the Firstborn use. We have yet to ascertain how many seconds a chronon comes to, but our current estimates lie around half a minute.] I delve into the structure of the interface around me, but find nothing at first. A deeper look reveals a certain gene that looks out of place, and I compare it to our archives - the code is faulty. I make the necessary repairs, transmitting the order to thirty-eight individual specimen in the vicinity - immediately I see the effects rippling outwards, changing the genetic code of the interface at the molecular level. Every changed specimen transfers the same set of orders to all surrounding specimens, producing a chain-reaction. I take a moment to reflect on the structure of the wave of change billowing outwards from where I first made the change. Completely repairing all local specimen will take a quarter of a local orbit, but I do not need to keep my attention focused for the duration - the process is well underway, and the system is working flawlessly. I conduct a full verification of a few random specimen to make sure that no other flaws have crept into the genetic code; it turns out negative. My schedule permits me a little time here, and I synchronize fully with the interface, noting how my repairs seem to have had the desired effect: No trace of the reported delay any more.
I consult the limited memory of the interface, learning as much as I can about the place. The first specimen arrived here 78 orbits ago, the entire planet was covered six orbits later. During this time, only one of us has visited before me, 14 orbits ago. The same one who submitted the report. Should I require in-depth information, [his] archives are available. [Translators' note: The Firstborn are genderless as far as we understand. Their basic pronoun therefore lacks any reference to gender. We have chosen to use our male pronoun. Not because we assume the Firstborn to be closer to male than female, but because the male pronoun "he", through centuries of use, has been blunted into a more neutral role, and is short, precise and to the point like no other expression. We hope for the reader's understanding.]
The native population has taken note of the interface, but believes it to be a natural mutation of a native bacterium. I take a short moment to analyze this native bacterium - indeed, there is a superficial resemblance, an information I file away for archival.
I gather specimen and construct a primitive, diminutive visual sensor, taking in my surroundings. Many individuals of the predominant bipedal lifeform are all around, rendering the location rather unsuitable for constructing a complete host - I search for a better location. A dark, secluded corner offers acceptable cover from detection, and I command the specimen I have assembled to move over there and gather, sailing like an invisible mist through the air. These bipeds, I notice, have yet to develop biomass scanning technology, which is rather fortunate - the Nebulons almost discovered the purpose of the interface eight-hundred and ninety million Chronons ago. The genetic code of the native bipeds has long been analyzed by the interface, and imitating it is only a small feat. Within only half a chronon, my host is formed in the image of one of the natives. The simple copy is suitable for my purposes - only dissection would reveal it to be fake, and if the host sustains catastrophic damage or connection is lost, it will disassemble into individual interface specimen.
I take control of my host, feeling the physical world wash over me. It is here that we originated, in the realm of things that can be touched and felt. For a time I walk among the people of this planet. Their language is simple yet beautiful in structure, mastering it requires no effort. Soon I strike up conversations. These people are warm-hearted judging by my initial assertion. Perhaps I will live a life here when time permits. 43651 chronons pass before I dissolve my host and turn to my next task, halfway across the same galaxy. I promise myself to return.
We are the Firstborn. When dawn turned to morning and the nuclear fires of the new universe had cooled, we arose to prominence. Our infancy was a troubled one, but in time we escaped the doom that nature had condemned us to and fled our home planet. When the furnace that had once been our source of life first swallowed up our home and then proceeded to annihilate itself in a final, cataclysmic exertion, we watched from afar. Ever looking outwards, we explored many worlds, but nowhere did we find our equals. We came to realize that in this vast, infant universe we were unique, and alone in our uniqueness. The seeds of life were everywhere, but as infantile as the universe around them. We, by comparison, were old, and would be ancient, if not extinct, before these seeds grew. This young universe could offer us nothing. In return, we sought to escape it, and escape we did. We debated, and have many times since then debated whether the sacrifices we made were excuseable to those who would come after us, but what is done is done. We are the result.
What is the interface? I am one of its original creators. When we turned our attention on this universe once again, we found that many planets now bore life, and in several places intelligence was sprouting. But we were insubstantial, and our powers feeble. Two options were available to us: Finding a way of reinserting ourselves into the universe, or devise a means of interacting with it. Reluctant to give up our shapeless forms entirely, we chose the latter.
The small, barren planet where we discovered a small, seemingly insignificant bacterium was doomed. Never before, and never since, have the Firstborn worked in unison like then. The concentration and presence of our entire race converging on such a small point in space caused rippling waves of distortion, extinguishing all seeds of life on the neighbouring, water-covered planet. Yet the sacrifice was necessary, for the nuclear furnace of the nearby star was rapidly burning out, and the death of this bacterium was imminent.
Our exertion tore the fabric of space asunder, and for a while, our connection with the universe was severed. When we emerged anew from our exile, intelligence had developed in many places, and for the first time since [the change], we felt impatience. [Translator's note: The change spoken of here is when the Firstborn originally changed from corporeal to immaterial beings.]
The operation had gone according to plan, and the planetoid was now in a stable orbit around a stable star; a suitable environment for the work to be done. I was appointed to the task alongside only a handful of others. Our task was to change the genetical structure of the bacterium to fit the desired one. And when our task was finished, the result left nothing for us to wish for: The interface was created.
[Translator's note: We have chosen to include a more in-depth explanation of the interface, gleaned from another source:
On a small, barren planet, a multicelled bacterium closely matching the sought specifications was discovered. The Firstborn wasted no time, but got to work immediately. Subtly altering the informational molecules defining the lifeform's properties, they created their servant: A bacterium capable of rapid self-replication provided access to sufficient nurishment from a wide palette of possible substances and, most importantly: Capable of bonding together in gigantic clusters. Within these collossal blobs of bacteria, the individual bacteria assumed specialized functions, effectively turning the whole mass of bacteria into something closely mimicking higher lifeforms. Through their intense understanding of their own nature, the Firstborn had developed ways of exchanging information with the physical world, and these they put to use now: They were capable of remotely controlling these creatures of their own design, and to quickly receive detailed information through them that it otherwise took minutes or hours to gather. Once again, after an eternity of shapelesness, the Firstborn were able to physically manifest themselves.
Leaving the planet and spreading once again became a matter of waiting. Time passed, intelligence started developing everywhere, and more and more races leapt for the stars. When finally a spaceship landed on the planet, bacteria clung to its hull, and it took them away. The bacterium spread to everything it touched, and it was not long before, by and large unnoticed, the bacterium had spread to all known major interstellar civilisations.]
Being one of the original architects of the interface, I was appointed the task of Keeper: My task is to ensure the proliferance of the interface, to eliminate faults and anomalies from the system. The task suits me well, it brings me far and wide, takes me to planets and galactic empires I would not normally have cast a glance at, only to then be surprised. Take the Eldrek: A savage race if there ever was one, they conquered planet after planet, empire after empire. Their belief that constant war is the only way to maintain ones strength fueled this viscious expansionism. Imagine then how their entire view of the world was shaken to the very core when they clashed with the Nebulons, a race that was vastly more powerful than them, yet at the same time peaceful. Within only thirty million chronons, their society had completely uprooted and revamped itself, embracing the peaceful ways of their baffled foe. I watched this on and off over a long time. Had I not been called to the homeworld of the Eldrek because of a complete failure of the interface, I might have missed the entire episode (eventually the entire local strain had to be purged, but reseeding didn't need any special measures. The Eldrek had already colonized three systems by then, and since these had also been seeded by their own colony ships, the returning ships brought the interface back with them).
There is a reason why I mention the Eldrek. We have contacted you for just that reason: War. We have often observed war, but never since we stopped quarreling amongst ourselves on our ancient home have we experienced war. None of us were alive then. We have no experience with war. And yet, the Firstborn are at war. Not of our own volition, but in defense of our very existence in this universe. But my time is limited, my schedule is busy. When I return, I shall tell more. Perhaps I will be able to speak your peculiar language by then.
The above note was delivered to us in sloppy handwriting on simple paper. It took a while to "translate" the note, as grammar was very poor. Given the content, we took it for nothing but a prank - in light of the following events, however, it is clear that the note is no fake. Consult "Firstborn - Machinelords" for further information.
Firstborn - Machinelords will be the next chapter. Stay tuned, but don't hold your breath.
Topic: Firstborn - Eyewittnesses (Read 2947 times)
