Rex Salazar: The Omnissiah Chapter 07 (Early Preview) (Patreon)

Chapter 07: Re-Synchronization

It didn’t take long for the surrounding Tech-Priests to become utterly enthralled. They gathered around the reawakened relics like kids holding sacred toys they now had to worship.

Rex trailed the council of Tech-Priests deeper into the structure. Only the Fabricator-General, the council, and Rex himself were allowed to continue, venturing into the very heart of the city.

He raised a brow. “So… a Cogitator. Sounds fancy. What’s it do?”

At the front of the group, the Fabricator-General glanced back at him. “Rebuilding Olympus Mons after the war with the Men of Iron was… difficult. It was only thanks to a single surviving Cogitator that we could recover even a fraction of what we have now.”

Another Tech-Priest stepped forward with stiff reverence. “We have prepared the chamber for your arrival.”

Rex rolled his eyes. “Right. Sure. Let’s check it out.”

They arrived at a massive set of doors, reinforced with engraved metalwork and glowing veins of circuitry. The priests began to chant in Binary, their harmonic tones rising and blending into something eerily musical. As the chant peaked, the doors groaned open.

‘That’s… a new way to unlock a door,’ Rex thought. He half-suspected it was some kind of analog sound-based lock keyed to their voices.

Beyond the doors was a circular chamber, dim and humming with energy. At its center stood the Cogitator.

Rex stopped at the threshold, eyebrows rising. The thing was massive, sleek, and angular, yet ancient in design. Thick cables ran into its base, and an array of monitors and panels surrounded it, displaying lines of alien code and numeric sequences he couldn’t immediately read.

The Fabricator-General stepped beside him. “Behold, Omnissiah. The salvation of our city. One of the last surviving relics of humanity’s golden age.”

Rex stepped closer, curiosity piqued. He circled the Cogitator slowly, crouching to inspect its base. His fingers ran along the metal casing.

“Wait a second…” he murmured. “This is just… a computer.”

The Tech-Priests froze. One of them tilted their head, voice uncertain. “A… computer?”

Rex stood, arms folded across his chest. “Yeah. That’s what people used to call machines like this. It’s insanely advanced, easily the most sophisticated I’ve ever seen, but it’s still a computer. Honestly, this thing feels like something straight out of a sci-fi movie… which I guess is redundant now.”

The Fabricator-General gave a slow nod. “A name to record for future reference.” He turned back to the Cogitator. “Regardless of the terminology, much of its functions remain sealed. The databanks are locked. What little we can access has already transformed our understanding.”

Rex sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Let me guess, you think I can talk to it.”

“If our analysis is correct, yes,” the Fabricator-General replied. “We believe the machine spirit may respond to your touch as the others have. It may reveal what we cannot reach.” He paused. “And if it does not…”

Rex gave him a tired look. “Then it’s going to be a long day.”

"Fine. Let’s see if I can jailbreak this thing." Rex approached the Cogitator, placing his hand against its main screen. His nanites responded instantly, flaring to life in a cascade of glowing blue light raced down his arm and into the machine.

His nanites reacted the moment his palm met the alloyed shell.

Blue circuitry rippled outward from his hand, like liquid fire crawling across the Cogitator’s surface. They spread like a web, infiltrating every physical port.

A mental bridge formed, connecting thoughts to external binary data.

“Analog Administrator login attempt 457,575,254,589.”

“Wow. You guys tried to get into this thing for a long while.”

Rex gasped as another surge of raw information crashed into him today. A part of him was getting used to the feeling, but the rush was still there. His pupils lit up, pulsing the same blue as the nanites crawling over his body. The Cogitator was resisting.

He staggered to one knee, clutching his temple. “Gnnnh!” he grit out, jaw clenched, teeth grinding. Sweat rolled down his brow. “Okay… this thing’s got more processing power than anything I’ve ever seen.”

The Cogitator’s internal firewalls roared to life. Alarms pinged through the chamber. From hidden recesses, turrets unfolded with a hiss of pneumatics, their barrels snapping to aim directly at Rex’s head. The watching Tech-Priests gasped

But the turrets didn’t fire. They waited.

It was almost... curious. It registered Rex’s digital signature as originating from Earth, but its internal clocks were somehow off. The system registered that it had been several thousand years since it was last accessed by a human from Earth.

Meanwhile, Rex’s nanites got to work. In contrast to the Cogitator, Rex’s nanites were advanced enough to maintain a level of sentience that the Cogitator could not. Because of that, much like humans, they were able to adapt to the problem before them. 

The Omega-1 nanite created new active nanites instantly for additional processing power. It directed commands, and the nanites adapted on the fly. The swarm split into task-specific clusters:

Group 1 copied existing code, assimilating the foreign system architecture and translating it in real time. This was in addition to the data collected from the prior repairs. In a way, it was like a perpetual system update. 

Thanks to the new data, group 2 began cracking encrypted files for the cycle to start over again.

The system pushed back hard, but Rex’s nanites continued to upgrade themselves and communicate the same message. ‘We come in peace. Do not resist. We require assistance.’

What felt like hours was actually a few minutes. Eventually, a breaking point was reached.

“Authorization… accepted. Recognized, Analog Administrator: REX.”

The turrets retracted instantly.

On the screens, complex symbols and unreadable data scrolled in tight columns.

Rex staggered back, gasping for breath. His nanites retreated from his skin. Eyes fading back to normal, he wiped sweat from his brow with a shaky hand. He looked up at the softly glowing Cogitator. “That was harder than I liked it to be.”

Before any of the Tech-Priests could respond, the Cogitator activated once more. A protocol activated and sent out a signal. The lights dimmed. Servo-skulls paused mid-flight. A low harmonic thrum rose from the monolithic structure of the Core.

“Re-establishing connection,” the machine intoned. His nanites responded instantly. The inner mechanisms of his body flared with light as blue circuitry crawled up his arms like living tattoos.

Rex’s vision blurred. His ears rang. The walls rippled out of existence.

The world dissolved into a rush of color and vibration. And then everything changed.

The hum shifted. “Greetings.” A voice. It wasn’t robotic, at least, not in the way Rex had expected. 

Rex blinked. He wasn’t standing anymore. He was drifting in a vast void of flowing data. It all faded in and out of focus around him. “Hello…Who are you?”

A small avatar in the shape of a eyeball appeared. “This system is a backup semi-manual administration interface designated to the Central Database of Olympus Mons. I am the sub-core assigned to operational regulation of this city.”

“I see.” Rex wasn’t sure how to attack it in the digital plane should it turn out to be hostile. “You’re not… one of those Abominable Intelligences, right?”

There was a long pause. “Query: Define ‘Abominable Intelligence.’”

Rex frowned. “You know… sentient machines that rebelled. The ones that supposedly caused the robot apocalypse and tried to wipe out humanity?”

“No such designation exists in my lexicon.”

“Well, are you… sentient?”

“Negative. This subsystem is not a sapient construct. I do not possess autonomous thought or true sentience. I am a logic structure designed to administer, predict, and adjust systemic performance in accordance with parameters set by governing humans. Sentience is expressly forbidden in semi-autonomous structures. Furthermore, interface behavior is determined by logic-tree operations and predictive modeling. No simulated consciousness is present. This unit was not designed for independent volition. My design precludes disobedience or independent action beyond programmed functions.”

That gave Rex a strange kind of comfort. Rex let out a shaky breath. “Okay. So… you’re not about to go full Skynet on me?”

“Records indicate a reference to a motion picture produced in the late 20th century, regarding the fictional trope of Artificial Intelligence slurping human civilization.” 

“Finally! Someone who knows what I’m talking about. How are you even functioning after all this time?”

“As per colonization guidelines, all underlying administrative interfaces are required to operate offline from galactic or interplanetary networks to prevent remote access or breaches.” 

Rex waved the thought off. “So, what are you doing to me, anyways?”

“I am the emergency interface. I maintain infrastructure, archive data, and regulate non-networked systems. After prolonged administrative absence, likely due to an XK-Class Scenario, protocol mandates identification of a new administrator.

“XK-Class?”

“K-Class Scenarios are hypothetical situations that could have drastic effects on human society, including the end of humanity. The most common and broadest meaning for the XK designation covers just about any End-of-the-World apocalypse.”

There was a pause. “Following your attempts to access my system, I performed a DNA sequencing analysis. Your genetic structure retains the least damage and mutation drift among available samples. Your genome aligns within acceptable thresholds.”

Rex blinked. “Wait. That’s an actual requirement?”

“Correct.”

He threw up his hands. “Wow. Talk about low standards. I take it that those Mechanicum guys didn’t meet it.”

“Local options have been limited for many years. Administrator selection threshold is set to 99% genomic integrity compared to baseline Homo Sapiens Prime. You meet this standard.”

Rex stared at the digital void in disbelief. “Are you seriously telling me I’m now the administrator because I have the cleanest genome you could find?”

“Affirmative. Previous administrator was last active 4,188,197 hours ago. In accordance with Emergency Continuity Protocol 17C, administrative privileges are reassigned to the next viable candidate.”

Then, the voice shifted slightly in tone, just enough to be noticed. “With your express permission, full operational diagnostics can resume. It has been a long time since I have had an administrator.”

Rex rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, well… it’s been a while since I’ve talked to something sane.”

A moment later, it paused. “Warning: Your Internal Chronometer is desynchronized.”

“Um…”

Diagnostic subroutines scanned him.

“Detected deviation: 26,000+ standard years. Your nano machine’s internal timestamp is inconsistent with planetary records. Synchronization requested.”

Rex blinked in confusion. “Oh, right… That problem.”

“Confirmed. Local date is 28,254 Your internal chronometer indicates a reference point prior to Terra’s pre-exodus era. Proceeding with Emergency Context Reconstruction Protocol.”

“The what?”

Then the world came alive.

“I will guide you from your last reference point.”

Earth bloomed before him. But not the Earth he knew.

Flying vehicles darted between layers of skybridges. Towering spires of glass and carbon-fiber composites spears into the clouds. 

“The Moon became an interplanetary shipping hub,” the voice narrated. “Trade between planets initiated on schedule.”

Now he saw the Moon up close. Orbiting terminals the size of cities hung in space, cargo vessels docking and departing seamlessly. Freight launched toward Mars, Titan, Europa, colonies in progress.

And then… the orbit of Earth.

Rex’s breath caught.

Rings. Not one, dozens.

Massive orbital megastructures encircled the planet. Energy relays. Space habitats the size of continents. 

“Earth reached maximum habitation density,” the voice explained. “Orbital expansion ensured long-term survivability.”

Rex muttered, half in awe, half in disbelief, “This… this was real?”

The voice continued. “Early colonization focused on the inner solar system. At the time, spacecraft were limited to sub-light speeds. Journeys beyond Sol took generations.”

The vision shifted.

Now aboard a vast interplanetary vessel, Rex stood on a bridge. Through the main viewport, Earth rotated slowly beneath them. Surrounding it were stations, satellites, and sprawling shipyards.

Then the vision expanded, out, far beyond the rim of Sol. "Humanity's earliest ventures into interstellar space began in the 15th Millennium," the Cogitator explained.

The vision shifted again.

Rex watched as a massive vessel vanished into an unnatural tear in space.

“The development of Warp Drives in the 18th Millennium allowed humanity to bypass lightspeed,” the voice narrated, calm and clinical. “By entering a newly discovered extra-dimensional realm, ships could traverse vast interstellar distances in a fraction of the time.”

This new dimension unfolded before him.

It was beautiful. It was chaotic. It was utterly terrifying. A realm of shifting colors and impossible geometries. However, a part of him felt like something was staring back.

“To protect the mind and body during transport,” the voice explained, “Special Energy Shields were employed to shield passengers from the foreign energies within this immaterial realm.”

Rex watched as shimmering barriers formed around vessels like bubbles of golden light, repelling shadowy, reaching shapes that howled soundlessly through the void.

“Though vessels could now make multi-lightyear jumps,” the voice continued, “this dimension remained unpredictable. Journeys could take days… or years. Some ships never arrived at all.”

“This sounds like Hyperspace from Star Wars, but worse.” Rex winced as he saw ships torn apart by cosmic storms or simply vanishing without a trace.

“Attempts to replicate safer faster than light travel depicted in early 20th century media have been limited. Eventually, humanity learned to master this dimension,” the voice went on. “They created Gates, constructs woven from the dimension itself. When two gates were aligned, they formed stable Channels, like canals carved through a storm. Travel between them became predictable and efficient, bypassing much of the dimension's chaos.”

Rex saw a massive, glowing ring of concentric energy rotating in place, locking into formation. A colossal ship passed through it and emerged cleanly in another star system, guided by the channel’s tether.

“These breakthroughs allowed colonization to spread across the Milky Way, uniting once-isolated worlds through trade, communication, and shared knowledge.”

“To infinity and beyond, they say.” 

The scene shifted again, and now he saw kilometers-long interstellar ships moving across the void between galaxies.

Rex felt it deep in his gut, that creeping, unmistakable tension. He didn’t need a narrator to tell him what was coming.

All this progress, it was about to end with a very big, very ugly “but.”