Forerunner computational power 5

Genemender moved his arm again, and I was surrounded by machines. No way between them!

“The ones who met us in the jungle, who filled the hall—why don’t they have any smell?” I asked.

The Lifeworker again gave me that familiar, stiff look.

“They’re not flesh, are they?” I asked. “What are they?”

“Spirit, you might say. They are all kept here,” Genemender said, pointing to the cylinders.

“Frozen inside?”

“No. Scanned, protected—neutralized. They will not be abused by the Master Builder, or anything else.”

“They’re not here physically?”

He agreed, and my heart sank further. “Then the ones outside . . .”

“Periodically, I rotate the records and refresh their experiences with projected walks around the compound, where they can interact.”

“You let them out?”

“I give them that impression,” Genemender said. “The only actual physical presence here is the female ape. She, too, enjoys company.”

“Where are their bodies?”

“Not essential. Scans are sufficient, and easier to control.”

“You killed them.”

“They are no longer active, and no longer a danger.”

“They were all from Erde-Tyrene?” Suddenly all became clear.

The machines tightened their circle.

“Yes.”

They do not look strong, those machines. They were made for science, not fighting.

“It was the last command of the Librarian, conveyed to this installation when it returned to the capital,” Genemender said. “There was a good reason humans from Erde-Tyrene were not brought to the Halo installations. They contain the memories and life experiences of ancient warriors. That makes them dangerous, and on such a weapon as this—”

[...]

The old spirit rose up with furious strength and took charge of my arms and legs. I kicked and flailed at the machines. They backed away, and I launched myself at the Forerunner, screaming with a rage so old it might have been kindled on Charum Hakkor itself, in those last days.

Then—a startling thing happened. For a moment, the Forerunner was not standing before me. My blows did not land. I flew into empty air, to strike the floor beyond and roll to my feet.

The machines now kept their distance.

Then, the Forerunner reappeared, off to one side—but while his body took a shimmering shape, I saw something else through the shimmer: a monitor with a single dull blue eye.

Then, Genemender was back, as solid as ever, regarding me with what might have been perplexity, or sadness.

“You’re dead, too, aren’t you?” I said.

No answer.

“Did you die to defend the preserve?”

No answer.

“You’ve explained everything to me. Why?”

Still no answer. I jumped toward the image again, but it swiftly shifted away, flickering uncertainly.

“You can’t lie,” I said. “You’re just a machine—an ancilla.”

The same steady, sad gaze. “Once, I was a Lifeworker. I chose this fate rather than serve the Master Builder.”
(Halo:Primordium; Ch.19)

“Am I dying? Am I dead?”

“You are being transferred from your damaged body—a process that will soon be finished. You are becoming, in part, a keeper of the biological records of your race. That seemed the best way to salvage your memories and your intellect, and to safely contain the most dangerous components of the Librarian’s experiments. You will continue to serve the Librarian. And me. Do you feel that capability?”

“Are you killing me, then?”

“You are already dead—in that sense. The body will be disposed of. Will you miss your physical form?”

Oh, I did—so much!

And yet I also enjoyed feeling numb.

“The body’s complete record is stored within you,” the Didact said. “If you wish to access any of its physical sensations, you can mimic them.”

I did not want that! I wanted the real thing. But then, the numbness would come to an end and the pain would return.
(Halo:Primordium; Ch.39)

I cannot stifle a sense of awe and even affront. Such power— such hubris! And yet, without the Lifeshaper’s intervention, all humans would have died long before. She does what she can. “They feel no pain, no distress. Composers are no longer used by any of our teams. Their memories and genetic patterns will be carried in the flesh of all their descendants, when Erde-Tyrene is repopulated. In that way, they will touch eternity. But their existence here is ending.” The humans rise like bubbles in a pond and swing around an immense, glowing blue flower, undergoing deep examination. Their faces go slack. The bodies are then consumed by brilliant purple flares, and the remains compacted to be returned to the oceans of Erde-Tyrene— not as ashes, burned and degraded, but rich nutrients that will feed minute organisms in the sea during the great sweep of Halo radiation.
(Halo:Silentium; Ch.2)