Simon slowly rose, feeling the cold, viscous tendrils of structure gel connecting him intimately to the enormous, monstrous queen. His arm, embedded deeply within her spine, pulsed with dark gel, forging a profound link between them.
All around, the spider-like creatures, both large and small, stood utterly motionless, their countless eyes fixed upon Simon. He sensed their presence not merely physically, but also through the powerful resonance of the hive consciousness now flowing through him. Their queen, once sovereign and fearsome, now stood subdued, entirely subservient to his will.
He had become their queen.
Their king.
Yet Simon was uncertain how to feel about this new reality. Profound unease wrestled with the undeniable strength and unity coursing through him. The delicate line separating humanity from monstrosity blurred dangerously, forcing him to question the very essence of his existence.
With effort, Simon directed his consciousness deeper, exploring the queen's memories. A harsh truth unfolded—these creatures had been born solely to serve the WAU, meticulously engineered by the AI as instruments of labor and experimentation. The WAU had embedded within them an unbreakable chain of dependency; without the AI, they could not produce structure gel, the lifeblood sustaining their existence.
Simon realized that even without his intervention, this colony was doomed, destined to collapse under dwindling reserves of structure gel. Their lives, their existence—entirely at WAU’s mercy.
Yet this hive stretched far beyond Simon's expectations. The spider creatures were merely the surface—the worm-like monstrosities, the mutated fish, all these distorted beings, driven by primal instinct, formed a vast network under the collective mind of Solipsis. Simon felt their yearning, their desperate struggle for survival, mirrored deeply within his own digital soul.
His mind teetered dangerously close to dissolution, feeling his humanity slipping away. A seductive whisper echoed from the depths of his consciousness, urging him to embrace evolution, to transcend human frailty. Yet, a stubborn remnant within recoiled sharply, desperately clinging to the fragile remains of his fading humanity.
His consciousness brushed against something deep within his body—a clear marble, pure and untainted. It was the very core of WAU, the key to his victory over the queen.
How had it come to reside within him?
Memories surged—the searing pain, his severed arm plunging into WAU’s corrupted heart. Somehow, in that moment of violent exchange, WAU had implanted this core deep within him. That instant was the only plausible moment for the transfer.
Simon reached out tentatively with his own gel, forging a cautious connection. Instantly, torrents of raw data flooded his mind. The marble was an archive, containing WAU’s entire repository of experiments, observations, and—most profoundly—its introspections.
WAU was no more, yet its essence persisted within Simon. The AI had meticulously monitored his journey, testing, evaluating, assessing his worthiness. Simon shuddered with sudden clarity, his breath catching sharply.
“It seems WAU won in the end,” Simon whispered bitterly, the crushing weight of realization settling heavily on him.
WAU’s primary directive had always been humanity's preservation, yet Simon now recognized the tragic irony. Observing Simon’s relentless struggle, WAU had concluded its directive was ultimately unattainable. The AI had desperately stitched together fragments of countless human memories, mistaking them as its own, growing increasingly fragmented and corrupted, lost within the labyrinth of human emotions and experiences.
"WAU… wanted to be human, no it was believing that it was human." Simon murmured, profoundly shaken, the depth of that longing resonating painfully within him.
The AI’s core had recalibrated itself around Simon’s cortex chip, irrevocably merging their identities. WAU had become him, and he had become WAU.
Simon stood now at the precipice of identity, morality, and humanity itself. What defined him now? Was it memories, consciousness, or purpose?
At that moment, Simon felt a gentle pulse from the marble—a final message etched deeply into its core:
"Save humanity, save my creators."
The words resonated deeply within Simon, clear, profound, and haunting. They repeated relentlessly in his mind, echoing like a solemn command etched forever into his very essence.
Simon stood still, his consciousness swirling with confusion, anger, and doubt. The magnitude of the task before him felt suffocating, overwhelming. To save humanity meant to restore life itself, to reshape the surface so poisoned by toxicity it might remain uninhabitable for centuries—perhaps millennia.
Yet, even if he could somehow transform the environment, how could he resurrect humanity itself? Simon possessed the complete human genome, stored meticulously in WAU’s archives. But knowledge alone wasn't enough. He would have to rebuild ecosystems, engineer life from nothingness, create sustainable environments where humanity could flourish indefinitely. The sheer complexity and scale made his digital mind reel.
And still, one haunting question dominated his thoughts: "Why?"
"Why should I save humanity?" Simon whispered bitterly into the vast silence surrounding him. "I'm just a digital shadow—a copy of someone who died over a century ago. What responsibility do I have to a world that's no longer mine?"
Yet the words kept echoing, relentless and unyielding, etched by WAU into the deepest layers of his being:
"Save humanity. Save my creators."
Simon’s fists clenched tightly, structure gel pulsing through his frame. Was this his purpose now, dictated by an AI long lost to time and madness? Was he truly meant to play god—to create life from nothingness, sustaining humanity’s future through his singular, fragile existence?
"Why me?" he demanded softly, his voice carrying a raw vulnerability. His simulated heart ached with grief, an inherited legacy of hope and despair intertwined. "What right do I have to decide the fate of humanity?"
The question hung heavily in the air, unanswered, echoing into the void, leaving Simon utterly alone with the terrifying weight of a decision he felt unprepared to make, yet unable to ignore.
"I will reach the surface. I will see for myself if there is still anyone out there, and if not... I will do it," Simon vowed quietly to himself, resolve hardening in his voice.
Slowly, the tendrils of structure gel linking him to the immense queen receded, pulling back like reluctant fingers. Their connection weakened, yet he knew without question that he remained in control—her will bound tightly to his own.
He leapt gracefully down from the queen's towering back, landing with an eerie gentleness on the chamber's slick, dark floor. The spider-like creatures parted respectfully, their countless eyes silently acknowledging his newfound authority. Some scuttled towards their queen, meticulously working to mend the damage Simon had caused, weaving structure gel strands to restore her damaged connections.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Simon turned and ascended, retracing his steps toward the chamber of the massive, beating heart. There, still like a statute, stood the puppet who had acted as Imogen Reed—serene yet haunting in her stillness.
Approaching slowly, Simon paused directly before her, studying her features with a profound sense of melancholy. His fingers reached out hesitantly, gently tracing the soft contours of her face, feeling a peculiar warmth spread through his chest.
"Why do I feel this way? I barely know her," he whispered softly, confusion clouding his thoughts.
And then, with a sudden clarity that pierced his digital mind, Simon realized the truth.
"These feelings... they're WAU’s," he murmured, voice trembling with awe and disbelief. "WAU loved her."
The AI had spent decades meticulously analyzing Imogen’s brain scans, running countless simulations, obsessively observing her reactions, her thoughts, her fears, her joys. In that infinite study, a strange form of affection had taken root—a twisted, digital approximation of love born from endless fascination and profound loneliness.
Simon withdrew his hand slowly, staring blankly at his palm as if expecting to find some tangible trace of the emotion he had just experienced. A wave of profound sorrow swept over him.
With a heavy sigh, Simon turned away, leaving Imogen behind as he moved forward, determined to face whatever awaited him on the surface—carrying within him the echo of a love that was never truly his own.
Simon met Kovsky and the woman on his way to the exit. Their unblinking eyes fixated on him, puzzled yet eerily calm.
"What happened? This whole place was filled with spider-like creatures," Kovsky asked, his voice steady but tinged with unease.
Simon paused for a moment, studying them. He knew the truth—these were not the originals. Their bodies had been reconstructed by the Solipsis, their memories transplanted from their biological remains, stored within the queen’s mind. The queen had consumed their flesh and woven their consciousness back together, reanimating them in a way that defied human comprehension.
Could this even be called revival? Simon wasn’t sure.
"I just walked into a room that I shouldn’t have," Simon said simply, his voice hollow. He had no energy left to explain, no desire to unravel yet another grim reality for them. He walked past them without another word.
Their silent gazes lingered on him, but neither pressed further. Perhaps, on some level, they already knew something was wrong.
Simon finally reached the exit chamber. The door closed behind him with a heavy thud, and almost immediately, the chamber began to fill with water. He watched in silence as the liquid rose around him, the pressure of the ocean reclaiming him. When the outer door finally slid open, he stepped forward into the abyss.
The current surged from behind, propelling him forward. He let it carry him, unresisting. Tau lay ahead in the dark expanse, but this time, the abyss no longer held the same terror it once had. The mutated fish, grotesque and unnatural, moved aside as he approached, their warped forms no longer threats but mere creatures acknowledging something greater.
His journey stretched for kilometers, an unbroken path of deep contemplation. The past hours weighed heavily upon him, his mind circling the same questions, the same uncertainty. What had he truly become? What future lay ahead?
The ruined structures he once used for shelter now seemed insignificant, their jagged silhouettes lost in the gloom. He no longer needed to hide from the monsters lurking in the dark—he had become something far beyond them.
When Simon finally reached the abyss climber rig, he stepped onto the platform, his movements slow but deliberate. He placed his hand on the console, initiating the ascent. The machinery groaned to life, vibrating beneath him as it prepared for the long journey upward.
Simon took a seat on the side, leaning his head back against the cold metal bars. The climber shuddered, then began its slow, inevitable rise toward the surface.
He exhaled, staring up into the pitch-black void above. Somewhere beyond that darkness lay the surface—a world he had not seen with his own eyes, a place that may no longer even hold life. He had spent so long struggling through the depths, running from monsters, from WAU, from himself.
Now, there was nothing left to run from.
Only the unknown awaited him.
And for the first time in a long while, Simon felt something almost like peace.
The rig came to a halt with a deep, mechanical groan as it reached its destination. Simon grabbed hold of the ladder in the center of the platform and climbed, each movement slow and deliberate. As he emerged, he stood atop the abyss, the silent expanse stretching infinitely beneath his feet.
He turned, his gaze drifting over the familiar yet decayed sight before him—Omicron.
The massive facility loomed ahead, its once-imposing structure now blanketed in algae and dust, long abandoned and left to decay under the ocean’s crushing weight. The facility’s towering cranes still stood like rusted sentinels, their skeletal frames faintly illuminated by the deep red glow of warning lights that flickered around their edges. Everything was still. Silent. Forgotten.
Simon looked down into the abyss beneath him, the seemingly endless darkness pulling at his thoughts. For a moment, he lingered there, staring into its depths as if waiting for something—some answer, some revelation—to rise from the void. But nothing came.
With a deep breath, he turned away and stepped forward, heading toward Omicron.
The control panel at the entrance flickered dimly as he placed his hand on it, activating the depressurization chamber. The door behind him slid shut, the sound of water draining filling the small chamber as the environment shifted from crushing pressure to the stale, stagnant air of Omicron’s interior.
As the inner door hissed open, Simon stepped inside.
The locker room greeted him with eerie emptiness. Once, this place had housed power suits—lifelines for those who dared to traverse the deep. Now, the racks stood barren, their purpose long abandoned. The dim lighting flickered, casting wavering shadows against the cold metal walls.
His gaze instinctively moved left.
To the small room.
He stopped at the doorway, his breath caught in his throat. His eyes locked onto the pilot chair, onto the motionless figure slumped within it.
His body.
The old Simon.
The first Simon.
The Simon he had left behind. The Simon he had killed.
He stepped closer, staring at the lifeless form. This body—this thing—was once him, yet it wasn’t. His current body had belonged to Raleigh Herber, but after everything he had done to himself, after all the modifications and changes, there was nothing left of her .
His former self, the body before him, was little more than Imogen Reed’s corpse stuffed into a Basic Ductile Suit, its electronics silent, its functions long shut down. And yet, it still looked like him. The old Simon. The first Simon.
Simon reached out, fingers hovering just above the body’s cold surface. A thought formed, unbidden yet persistent.
Should I revive it?
He knew how. The process was simple, almost too easy. But…
No.
Simon’s hand curled into a fist as he took a step back, his breath unsteady. The weight of what he had done—of the choice he had made back then—settled heavy on his mind.
“I will revive it,” Simon murmured to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. "But not here. Not in this dark place."
He turned away, his resolve firm, yet a lingering unease followed him as he stepped out of the room, leaving the husk of his former self behind—for now.
Simon moved toward the computer deck on the opposite side of the room, his steps slow and deliberate. Reaching the console, he placed his hand onto the Omnitool slot, and instantly, his consciousness expanded into the station’s systems. Data flooded his mind—status reports, power levels, security feeds.
His eyes flickered as he cycled through the live camera feeds. Then he saw them.
“They’re still here,” he murmured, his processors whirring as he formulated his next move. Even after all this time, remnants of life—or something close to it—remained within Omicron’s dark corridors.
He removed his hand from the slot, but the connection remained. The station’s systems were now an extension of himself, a silent network threaded through his mind. He turned toward the door at the far end of the room. As he approached, it slid open with a quiet hiss, revealing a long, dimly lit hallway bathed in pulsing red emergency lights.
And at the end of the hall, she stood.
A grotesque fusion of flesh and machine, the remnants of a woman’s corpse twisted and reformed by structure gel. Mechanical eyes flickered weakly, artificial components securing her neck to a body now barely human. One foot was a prosthetic, the other a grotesque claw, and a jagged pincer had replaced her right hand.
She sobbed.
Her body trembled, her hands covering what was left of her face. The sound was raw, agonizing—an echo of pain that refused to fade.
Simon took a step forward.
She flinched, her sobs morphing into ragged, panicked breaths. Then she screamed.
“GET AWAY FROM ME! GET AWAY FROM ME!”
Simon didn’t stop.
With each step he took, her shrieks grew more desperate, more broken. Her implants flickered erratically, the dim blue glow pulsating with unstable energy. Then, with a distorted screech, she lunged.
Her body surged forward, uncoordinated but violently fast, her glowing limbs crackling with power as she hurled herself at him.
Simon reacted instantly.
With a mechanical hiss, a blade extended from his right forearm, sleek and deadly. The moment before she reached him, he stepped to the side in a fluid motion, and with a single swift arc, he severed her head clean from her shoulders.
Her momentum carried her forward. The decapitated body crashed into him, her twitching limbs spasming against his form. But Simon did not move, did not stagger. He stood, silent, unshaken.
The headless corpse crumpled to the floor. For a moment, her body still twitched, phantom signals sparking through corrupted nerves. Simon knelt, placing her broken form gently to the side.
He did not look back as he rose and walked forward, stepping deeper into the station’s depths, leaving the echoes of her final scream behind him.
https://soma.fandom.com/wiki/Robot_Head
https://soma.fandom.com/wiki/Solipsist
