The springtime sun pokes a path through a cloud-filled sky, casting its optimistic rays down on the mountain ranges stretching across the edge of the world. The mountain’s snowy banks lay pristine and untouched, save for a solitary row of footprints marking up one steep side.

11 stands at the pinnacle of the mountain, surveying the land below. The chilling breeze whips her hair across her cheeks with careless abandon. She spits out a mouthful of golden strands, and finally having had enough, gathers up her hair and wrangles it into a tight ponytail, using a portion of the nanobots in her suit to make a hair tie.

“There.” She pats the top of her own head, then immediately feels stupid for doing so.

The sunlight glancing off the snow gives them a pretty silvery sheen, but there is no denying that these mountains are a lot less alive than 11’s meadow, and the God Gier feels herself missing that place, with its white flowers and unidentifiable insects. She misses walking along the winding rivers, alongside swimming fishes and tiny rodents burrowing under her feet. 11 might know what company feels like, but she is starting to understand why there weren’t many movies or novels staring singular protagonists, back when humanity still had the luxury to pursue such illogical fancies as crafting fiction for entertainment.

She speaks, her breath evaporating in the icy air,

“So, to sum up that story, we have an adolescent protagonist, working with his 9-year old android partner, to retrieve other androids that are approaching their expiration date and needed to be taken offline."

I do not see how this conclusion helps in your carrying out the Protocol.

"Come on, Mother, just one more time?"

When the S-M-S does not respond, 11 takes it as permission to keep going. "Okay, so what I don't understand is, that despite the fact that our protagonist knows his own partner is on the verge of expiration herself, he falls in love with her anyway? And what's more illogical, the android is also happy to reciprocate his feelings?”

A pause, then,

Many depictions of fictional romance may seem out of the ordinary spectrum of the society it is birthed from. However, one can argue that the charm of fictious entertainment lies in exactly such a far-fetched premise and exaggerated portrayal of the ordinary.

11 nods, pondering seriously. “People really seemed to like their unrealistic romances and their idealistic superhumans, their Juliets and their Batmen, regardless of how their stories ended. Controlled absurdity prompts imagination and emotion, then?"

You summarise it well. The majority of the human race lived rather standard, unexceptional lives, so it brings them joy to create epic tales so different from their own. Now, I suggest you focus your attention back on the task at hand.

A gentle breeze swirls over the snow, and 11 reaches out to catch a snowflake on her finger.

It has been three and a half months since 11 set out after the Demonic Entity. And for the entirety of the one hundred and seven days, she has hiked over mountains, crossed fields, and trekked through entire forests on her own. Thankfully, whatever hacked the Synapse-Mother-System’s database has been kind enough to leave intact nearly every piece of recorded information produced by the human race, which means millions of Petabytes of music, movies, paintings, and all other forms of blockbuster entertainments are at 11’s free perusal. Of course, she cannot understand much of what she's watching, but it is still a better way to pass the time than to count the number of trees she has passed by, or the number of slimes she has stepped on.

The wind picks up, cutting through 11's thoughts and seemingly her nanosuit. Automatically, her body raises its temperature to combat the cold. 11 shivers, and says wistfully, “I wish God Giers were as revered as humanity's superheroes. Maybe I should wear a cape into the first human base I come across, see how well they'll receive me.”

It does you no good to burden yourself thinking such things, 11. God Giers are made for war, not to be objects of affection. These movies you are watching are fictional and will always remain as such. If you really must past the time, I suggest you watch next a documentary on how factory farming decimated the world’s natural resources. You will find the information useful for your future endevours.

11 shakes her head. "You know what I need? An americano. Or maybe even just a shot of espresso. Yeah, nice and dark, straight energy without pulling any punches." She traces a line in the snow with the tip of her foot, and sighs. “If only wishes can come true...”

You will just be wasting it with such short-sighted fantasies.

"Hm," says 11, looking about her. The mountain she has just spent three days climbing is amongst the tallest, and is shaped like a wave, with one side sloping and the other offering a sheer drop through the clouds below. As she stands at the freezing, desolate summit of this tsunami wave of rock and snow, it feels to 11 like she is balancing on the precipice of the world, the loneliest place on the planet, and any second the wave will crash, dragging her back down.

11 turns her gaze towards the cloudless sky. Up here, the color of the atmosphere is a raw, but tender blue. 11 reaches out, feeling like if she just stretches out a bit more, her fingertips will poke through the veil of the world and brush against the edge of heaven. She lets out a breath, and watches as the heat of her Master Core visualizes in the frigid air. Then, she steps back from the edge and brings her arms over her head to stretch, noticing the way condensation rolls off her skin in puffs, as if she is a popsicle that has just been taken out of the freezer.

11 feels the ghost of a smile hinting at the corners of her lips as a picture, a snapshot, surfaces in her mind:

A little girl, brown curls fluttering around her heart-shaped face, yelping and giggling as a ball of snow smacks onto her forehead…

The scene is so vivid and clear that for a second 11 is convinced it is her memory, just as she is certain that the girl is related to him, the man in the nightmare she had when she woke up for the first time in those caves, beneath the underground city of Haven.

“No, no," 11 murmurs to herself. "That was just a nightmare. Just... a nightmare.” She tries not to think about it, because instinctively, she knows it will only bring trouble. Instead, she tries to distract herself. But what is there to do up here?

Before 11 can second-guess herself, she reaches down, dissolves her black heel boots away with a touch, and steps barefoot onto the soft snow. She almost screams as a bolt of lightning zaps through her body, from her toes to the ends of her hair, jolting awake every nerve and muscle fiber. 11 hears the roar of blood in her ears, feels heat and energy surging into her chest. Every receptor inside her body is buzzing with the exhilarating combination of both pain and delight.

God Gier 11 might have been built from dead, unfeeling things, but in that instant, as her heart soars and her head swells, she is just as much alive as the billions of organisms flying and running and swimming on this thriving, living planet.

The sound of an android’s laughter, joyful and light, echoes through the frosty air, bringing color to the bleak mountain ridge.

It may have only lasted for a second, but at that moment, the world changed.

Caution, Gier 11, I’m picking up an unprecedented spike of energy in your CPU and Master Core. Control yourself or your systems will be at risk.

The gentle yet cool voice of the S-M-S pulls 11 back into reality, and the God Gier again remembers herself. Shaking her feet clean of the snow, 11 quickly rematerializes her boots around her legs and then takes a few breaths to steady herself. She dutifully returns to surveying the land, a small frown now replacing the jubilant look on her face present just a moment ago.

At this elevation, even 11 can only just make out the silhouettes of the mountains and hilltops and forests way out in the far distance. Everything else below is covered by thick clouds and dense fog. But 11 knows she’s getting close to the Demonic Entity. She can feel it. Not literally, of course.

Picking up possible target movement, Less than 4.5 kilometers due north from current position.

Calculating coordinates...

11 squints at the distant green mountains; like ant hills from where she is. Her target must be inside those mountains, or the forests surrounding them, probably grazing or drinking from a stream. 11 starts imagining a high-tech android chasing after a big woolly mammoth, like some prehistoric proto-human.

"I've watched too many movies," she muses, and then something changes on the horizon. 11 blinks, squinting into the distance.

Strange.

"Is that... is that mountain moving?"

11 zooms to 25% magnification.

There it is, a small bobbing up and down, accompanied by the tiniest shift in its position. 11 focuses the telescopic lenses in her eyes to the maximum magnification, and she sees it.

One of the mountains is moving, shifting ever-so-slightly along the horizon.

"Mother... I, um... think I've found my target."

The mountain, which looks like any other mountain with trees and plants and shrubbery covering its entire surface, is also sprouting five massive black appendages from underneath it. Four of the appendages are bent low to the ground, supporting the creature as they move one at a time, like that of a tortoise. The longest appendage is held off the ground and stretching forward in the direction the mountain is moving towards, like a neck.

The mountain is the Demonic Entity.

11 runs a quick calculation. From this distance, the mountain demon looks to be about 300 meters in height and about twice that in length. It is 4.5 kilometers away, and with its sheer size, every step it takes is a hundred of 11’s. She cannot waste any more time.

“Mother, you might want to record some data on this maneuver,” 11 says, checking that her blade is strapped securely to her waist. “I’m about to do what the humans called a ‘Super-hero Landing’.”

I do not suggest you jump off this mountain, 11. Extent of Damage to all systems by impact onto the ground from a 7,000-meter fall would be nearly 1.2%.

“Oh, I’m not going to fall.” 11 titters closer to the edge, averting her gaze from the near-vertical drop. She takes a half-step back and drops to a crouch. “I’m going to land.”

Twin metallic jet wings spring out from her back, roaring to life as they unfold like a mechanical butterfly. Bright blue columns of fire sprout out from the end of each blade of the wings, setting the mountaintop ablaze. The snow under 11’s feet liquefies, then evaporates. Strands of her hair escape from their binds, fluttering and shimmering in the light like strings of liquid gold. 11 keeps her eyes trained in the distance, and takes a deep breath.

"Just like the superheroes used to do."

With a thunderous crack, she springs forward, her wings blasting with the force of a rail gun, splitting the rock and ice under her. 11 shoots through the air like a girl made of lightning, aiming directly at her mountain-sized prey far in the distance.