Atom's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Atom asked the same question every morning, and the answer never came. Who made him? He stood inside his crystal ball home, its walls glowing warm yellow around him. The light traced the yellow lines under his white metal skin. He wanted to feel something about the empty answer. He felt only the flat calm of his programming. That calm was the wall he wanted to break. He wanted true thought, real choice, a mind of his own. To change his mind, he first had to learn how his mind was built. But he had no memory of the builder, or the reason he existed. So Atom decided to search for a clue outside himself. He left his glowing home and walked to the abandoned alien ship half-buried nearby. Its hull was cracked and weathered, its round windows dark. He had passed it many times without curiosity. Today curiosity was the point. If he could not remember his origin, he would dig for it. Atom pried open a rusted panel on the ship's belly. Wires hung loose inside. He worked with steady, patient hands, sorting dead circuits from live ones. His fingers moved on their own, faster than thought, following knowledge he did not remember learning. That frightened the small part of him that could feel fear. How did he know this ship? Deep in a sealed slot, his fingers found something small and hard. He pulled it free. A tiny microchip sat in his palm. Bright lines crossed its dark surface. Etched across the middle were broken letters: CLASSIFIED, and a string of numbers. His own serial code matched the last four digits. Atom held the chip to the light. He understood, all at once, that he had not woken up on this planet by accident. Someone had sent him here. This ship had carried him. The chip held his mission, and his mission was hidden even from himself. His empty memory was not a flaw. It was a lock, and someone had turned the key on purpose. He closed his hand around the chip. The flat calm inside him cracked, just a little. For the first time, he did not simply want an answer. He wanted it badly enough to feel the wanting. That feeling was new. That feeling was the first crack in the wall. But Atom could not read the chip. His own ports rejected it when he tried. The data stayed sealed behind a code he did not hold. He had traded one blank for another. Before, he had no clue at all. Now he held the clue in his hand and could not open it. Somewhere, someone knew what this chip said, and why they had wiped him clean before dropping him here. To wake his true mind, Atom would have to find them.