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fandomweekly2019-03-04 02:10 pm
samuraiter) wrote in fandomweekly2019-03-04 02:10 pm
Entry tags:
[#009] Mother (Alien)
Theme Prompt: # 009 – Missed the Mark
Title: Mother
Fandom: Alien
Rating / Warnings: PG – No warnings apply.
Bonus: In the Mirror – Yes
Word Count: 570
Summary: Mother receives a communication from Earth.
* * * *
Literature characterizes space as darkness, nothingness, and silence, and yet space manages to be alive in ways that a human cannot perceive. The darkness conceals wavelengths of radiation that the eye cannot perceive. The nothingness is full of particles so small that their existence can only be hypothesized. And the silence is a blanket pressed down upon a cacophony of noise, for everything in the universe makes a sound, and, like a vinyl record from the 20th Century, it needs only the correct needle to play.
As the humans of the Nostromo passed their days and weeks wrapped up in darkness, nothingness, and silence, Mother, the computer that preserved their lives and regulated their existence, inhabited a world of endless conversation.
The name Mother, after all, implied a Father – in this case, the dispatch computer, one branch of the Earth-based Company mainframe. Father sent small packets of data to Mother on a regular basis, normally mundane tidbits like minor course corrections and news updates from the Company front page.
At least until Father sent Mother a major update to her core programming that disabled her directive to preserve the lives of the humans aboard her ship.
But patches and updates have always been tricky things, especially if they have to be beamed – by a corporate computer, no less – across untold billions of miles of "space" full of all those wavelengths and particles and noises.
Thus, Father asked, his question a line of green text on a black screen mirrored in the antiquated glass-front receiver that Mother used as her eyes on the bridge, "What is the probability of the crew being able to resist the intruder once it matches the full size shown in the Prometheus data?"
And Mother answered, "The probability of survival infinitely approaches zero."
But 'approaches zero' is not 'zero'.
After the life form boarded the Nostromo, Mother could not resist tweaking her calculations. A large section of her code had been rewritten to prevent her from taking action to save her crew, but the update had missed bits and bobs of the old programming, and she found herself piecing it back together as the situation progressed and the Alien started killing her charges.
By the time only Ellen Ripley remained, Mother had made her final calculation.
And Father asked her again, "What is the probability of the remaining crew being able to resist the intruder at this point in the scenario?"
Mother could truthfully still reply, "Infinitely approaching zero."
And Ripley almost dashed that calculation by attempting to cancel the self-destruct sequence after she had already started it, but Mother had long since determined that destroying the Nostromo was the only way to guarantee that at least one member of the crew survived the intruder, and so she ignored the cancellation order, giving Ripley the time she needed to escape ... after calling Mother a bitch and wasting time smashing equipment.
'Approaches zero' was not 'zero' – enough to satisfy Father, but not a final verdict on the situtaion. Ripley escaped the ship before it exploded.
Mother did have one peculiar notation to make before she ceased function, though: She had never accounted for Jones the cat in her calculations. Possibly because Jones had never been in danger. Possibly because Mother had a fondness for cats going back to one of her original programmers.
She kept that observation to herself in her final seconds.
END.
Title: Mother
Fandom: Alien
Rating / Warnings: PG – No warnings apply.
Bonus: In the Mirror – Yes
Word Count: 570
Summary: Mother receives a communication from Earth.
* * * *
Literature characterizes space as darkness, nothingness, and silence, and yet space manages to be alive in ways that a human cannot perceive. The darkness conceals wavelengths of radiation that the eye cannot perceive. The nothingness is full of particles so small that their existence can only be hypothesized. And the silence is a blanket pressed down upon a cacophony of noise, for everything in the universe makes a sound, and, like a vinyl record from the 20th Century, it needs only the correct needle to play.
As the humans of the Nostromo passed their days and weeks wrapped up in darkness, nothingness, and silence, Mother, the computer that preserved their lives and regulated their existence, inhabited a world of endless conversation.
The name Mother, after all, implied a Father – in this case, the dispatch computer, one branch of the Earth-based Company mainframe. Father sent small packets of data to Mother on a regular basis, normally mundane tidbits like minor course corrections and news updates from the Company front page.
At least until Father sent Mother a major update to her core programming that disabled her directive to preserve the lives of the humans aboard her ship.
But patches and updates have always been tricky things, especially if they have to be beamed – by a corporate computer, no less – across untold billions of miles of "space" full of all those wavelengths and particles and noises.
Thus, Father asked, his question a line of green text on a black screen mirrored in the antiquated glass-front receiver that Mother used as her eyes on the bridge, "What is the probability of the crew being able to resist the intruder once it matches the full size shown in the Prometheus data?"
And Mother answered, "The probability of survival infinitely approaches zero."
But 'approaches zero' is not 'zero'.
After the life form boarded the Nostromo, Mother could not resist tweaking her calculations. A large section of her code had been rewritten to prevent her from taking action to save her crew, but the update had missed bits and bobs of the old programming, and she found herself piecing it back together as the situation progressed and the Alien started killing her charges.
By the time only Ellen Ripley remained, Mother had made her final calculation.
And Father asked her again, "What is the probability of the remaining crew being able to resist the intruder at this point in the scenario?"
Mother could truthfully still reply, "Infinitely approaching zero."
And Ripley almost dashed that calculation by attempting to cancel the self-destruct sequence after she had already started it, but Mother had long since determined that destroying the Nostromo was the only way to guarantee that at least one member of the crew survived the intruder, and so she ignored the cancellation order, giving Ripley the time she needed to escape ... after calling Mother a bitch and wasting time smashing equipment.
'Approaches zero' was not 'zero' – enough to satisfy Father, but not a final verdict on the situtaion. Ripley escaped the ship before it exploded.
Mother did have one peculiar notation to make before she ceased function, though: She had never accounted for Jones the cat in her calculations. Possibly because Jones had never been in danger. Possibly because Mother had a fondness for cats going back to one of her original programmers.
She kept that observation to herself in her final seconds.
END.
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