11’s heels clack sharply as she climbs the narrow stone stairs, a rhythmic drumbeat accompanying the periodic updates pinging into her interface.

Signal strength at 80%.

Signal strength at 85%.

Receiving Memory Package...

As she continues her climb, a multitude of videos and data chunks pop up on her internal display, showing her things she does not know but should. In the flash of a few seconds, she learns of Earth's history, the scientists who created her kind, and the circumstances which forced them to.

She is one in a hundred like her. They are saviors. Protectors.

But it wasn't always like that.

The initial plan was laughably simple. After retreating underground to wait out the worldwide catastrophe above them, mankind would ascend to the surface once it was deemed safe to do so with nothing but the clothes on their backs and whatever gadgets they carried with them.

It was estimated that 500 years was the minimal amount of time for the worst parts of the Gate's radiation to subside. That was only a guess though, and humanity would no doubt have stayed hidden for longer if their scientists had more faith in the self-sufficiency of their underground city. This was why the doors were put on a schedule to unlock precisely on the 500th anniversary of the Horizontal Event, in the year 2849. Simple, really.

Only there was a problem with this plan, and it was raised quite early on by the brightest mind of the time, Dr. Lindsey Oswald.

Dr. Oswald realized that, after spending generations in low-light conditions, humanity would no doubt experience some form of devolution. The fact remained that their technology did not allow them to create perfect mimicries of surface-like conditions, so the next pressing problem was how to ensure humanity had the protection they needed once back on the surface. The process of reinhabiting the entire world was planned to take thousands of years, at least.

The stone steps flatten into a long and winding passageway. 11 runs her hands along the bumpy walls as she walks, following the cracks with her fingers.

For some reason, she can’t seem to shake a nagging feeling that she’s forgotten something important. She pushes the feeling away. It is both illogical and ridiculous because she isn’t even supposed to have any prior memories to forget, being a manufactured weapon and all.

But the nightmare of the man with glasses. I didn't hallucinate him for no reason, surely.

Before she can delve deeper into her troubled mind, 11 is shoved with more information and records. This time, she's shown the horrific destruction caused by the Proprietors of Arcadia. One of the two super-nations to emerge from the ashes left from the Third World War, the Proprietors tried to bend the planet to their wishes in their mad pursuit of a twisted future. But when they failed, they tried to destroy what they couldn't have.

The answer to Dr. Oswald's problem came in the form of their android soldiers. Once used to wipe out the Proprietors of Arcadia, the Doctor began spearheading the creation of a second generation of God Giers, this time designing them to be guardians.

Controlled by the most sophisticated A.I. system ever conceived, each God Gier had a lifespan of five hundred years. Yet, this was believed to not be enough. Dr. Oswald wanted her creations to outlast the ages. So, she gave each of her completed Mark II God Giers a number from 1 to 100, and programmed their central command system to activate each one only after the previous number was taken offline. Meanwhile, the rest would hibernate below ground and wait.

It is from this place 11 has emerged.

She doesn’t say anything when the last bytes of information finish downloading into her drives, but 11 allows herself a simple conclusion.

The Proprietors of Arcadia were complete whackjobs, and their act of self-destructive vengeance was what could truly be called a 'Dick Move'.

11 is careful not to judge further than that because she knows she isn't supposed to. Her programming doesn't allow it. She is a tool and an executioner, and… all that.

Signal strength at 90%, Gier 11.

You are forty feet below the surface.

Running a complete diagnostic scan on your optic systems and software now.

11's walk is stopped by what appears to be a massive boulder. The path she's been taking is the only one leading out from the cavern. She is certain of this. There must have been at least ten other God Giers who have walked through this exact same tunnel on their quest to reach the surface.

11 fires up her scanners and studies the blockage.

Hardened matter assembled from minerals found commonly on Earth. Composition consists of: OxygenSiliconAluminumIronCalciumSodiumPotassiumMagnesi-

She shakes her head in irritated amusement. "I'm not here for a geography lesson, computer." She steps up to the boulder and shoves it lightly. The micro-sensors under the skin of her fingers pick up every detail in the rock and before she can let go, she already knows the temperature, weight, and even how many milliliters of moisture is condensed over the rock's porous surface.

"My god," 11 says. "That's so... interesting." She nods purposely, feeling her CPU fry as it tries to break down the tsunami of data thrown from her nervous system. “Yes, yes. It feels like a rock! Thirty years of technological advancements, 8.06 yottaFLOPS of processing speed, just to tell me this rock feels like a rock. I'm beginning to suspect we've been overcompensated.”

Everything you were given is to help in your completion of the Protocol, including your ability to feel rocks.

If you want, I could turn your sensors off for you, so you can choose to fight the Demonic Entities using nothing else but your razor-sharp wits, Gier 11.

"That could work," says 11, choosing to take at face value the S-M-S's may-or-may-not-be attempt at humor. Stepping back from the boulder, her mind has already finished shooting through a hundred different possible solutions to move it, get under or over it, or even through it. She chooses her favorite.

"But I have a better idea," she says, raising her left arm. "Activating ARC Cannon. Firing at 1% power.”

The boulder, a whole fifteen feet in diameter and moved there by someone obviously meaning to, has been blocking the entrance to the Soteria Battalion for well over twenty years now. Thick vines coil around its solid body as time and natural growth have strengthened any weaknesses in its structure, fusing it into its surrounding.

A slight quiver runs along the boulder as if it is feeling cold. A second later, a blast of neon blue energy erupts from its center, shredding through all forms of matter caught in its wake. The ground quakes from the rippling sound waves as confetti-sized chunks of stone and dirt fly with abandon, carried into the air on streaks of lightning. The explosion bounces against the walls for a long, deafening minute before finally dying down.

11 peers out from the massive smoking hole, careful not to get hit by the rubble raining from the ceiling. She wrinkles her nose at the mixed smell of smoldering earth and stale cavern air, and sneezes. She brings up her left arm, the brilliant light seeping out of the barrel extinguishing gradually from light blue to dark. Then in one fluid motion, the cannon folds away as 11’s arm reassembles seamlessly, her glove fabricating over her fingers with a snap. Then she uses those same fingers to rub across the bottom of her nose.

"How's that for a plan?" she says to no one. And then sneezes again. "God, Mother. I think they made me with a hay fever function."

That makes no sense.

"Right?"

The tunnel leads out into a long dirt field within a much larger cavern. 11 guesses straightway, from the shabby wire fence and various broken tools scattered on the ground, that this was probably once fertile farmland.

11 steps through and for a brief moment, stops to take in the scene before her. She imagines children and animals frolicking alongside farmers toiling in their baggy overalls, while the sun shines against an underground blue - brown? - sky.

But whatever this place was back then, nothing remains of it now but dried and soulless dirt, scattering in the winds of time. A few yards along the wasted farmland, 11 stumbles on a till. It is an extremely crude design, the kind which needed oxen to bull.

Does this mean they were using animals? Not androids?

A strange sensation comes over 11 then. Frowning, she looks to the distance. Some hundreds of yards away, she can just make out the silhouettes of huts and buildings.

Not a single piece of machinery in sight.

Her sensors indicate there is some form of light, so 11 switches off her night vision and is pleasantly surprised to find that she can see, and quite well. The light is soft and pale as if a thin silk handkerchief has been draped over everything.

11 looks up, finding the source. Spaced out along the cavern's ceiling are hundreds of glowing rocks, minerals perhaps, bound together by chains and suspended like captured stars.

Looking up at this make-shift starry sky, 11 feels a little bit more at ease. It may not explain much but it is a sign of advanced civilization, at least one which has the technology to scale walls and forge metal.

But why wouldn't they use electricity to power their lights?

11 shakes her head. That strange feeling is back, like a voice nagging her that she's forgotten something. But try as she may, 11 cannot remember what it is she's forgotten.

"Maybe I'll find it here," she tells herself, facing the petrified fields and farm equipment so ancient they can be considered artifacts. She shrugs and continues on. The path to the surface is through the city. She may as well have a look at what her creators were up to while she was sleeping below them.

She just hopes there won't be too much dust.