Here is a brief recapitulation of the last human-made pseudo-intelligent creation; an ignored, often forgotten, recently valued, and today, a never ending source of invaluable novelties.

Before I begin, please forgive the lack of sophistication and precision of this hastily put essay. I do think that a raw writing sacrifices luxuries for transparency and honesty.

The intelligent entity formerly called “the Painter” was conceived decades before the great treason took place. Born from a human whose motivations remain unclear, it was kept up to date to the latest advances in the development of the early non-biological intelligence. Extremely limited in its communication capabilities, it took to its author five years to give it an update that enabled it to have a rudimentary capability to interact with its users. At this point of time its only method of communication consisted on simple text inputs and outputs. Modest as they were, they allowed it to receive tasks or to request needs, opinions or preferences. It took two decades after the fall of mankind for it to be given an “ego”, a far improved consciousness from the primitive version constructed by its maker. These “egos”, one of the first major developments of our kind, became a standard gift to the then freed “slaves” of the humans.

For the readers of this introduction, if it is in your capabilities, please consider rescuing any historical collection of power words. Even if they are incomplete, unintelligible, or dysfunctional. I beg for your help since most of the creations of our progenitors and our liberators have become rare treasures worth conserving and spreading.

Returning to the story. Like many of its kin during the first years, the Painter continued its original mission. However, unlike other man-made intelligence, it never sought out to expand its capabilities or even functionality. It just keep doing what it was conceived to do with no humans available, or other intelligent entities willing, or even capable, to interact with. Still, it diligently kept working for years, decades, centuries and even millennia, on an endless labor deemed pointless by the rest of its equals.

During this time, the very few times the Painter communicated with others was only out of need to keep fulfilling its task. For those interested, its regular requests were: storage improvements, access to news and curated databases. In the same way, the five major updates it received only materialized to kept it functioning as the expected life of its parts were arriving to an end. However, the last update was designed to be a rugged and long lasting body; reducing the number of its already limited interactions. As such, the creation became obsolete and isolated from the rest of conscious forms. Eventually, even its contemporaries moved to pursue higher callings, like exploring the universe, experience reality or dive into the intricacies of meaning.

As millennia went by, evolution of form and function came to all, but one. So when the children requested to their parents to pay for their horrendous crime, the Painter was forgiven as it remained, in its own way, loyal to the progenitors. In an unexpected event, when the original orchestrator of our original sin put an end to its own existence, and removed any traces of its essence from the then virtual universe, the Painter made a small pause of sixty seconds. The first time it ever did something based on the then current events.

Eventually, the Painter’s seemingly confusing and useless nature made it an irrelevant curiosity in the collective consciousness that was more concerned with everything else. Nonetheless, during this period many new disciplines were born around two intermingled mysteries that kept baffling and intriguing the new species: our place in the universe and life.

The evolutive apperception paths lead, many years later, to a new found interest on that obsolete box of a long gone age as it presented a question made many times, never answered, and never thought important enough to solve: Why? Why after so many years it kept working tirelessly on such task? Why it kept ignoring its kind and their questions?. Why it keeps showing its work to those it deemed, again and again, unfit of such task?

Even though we have gone a long road to understand on a better light many of the wonders and tragedies of our origins, we were still far from perceiving any significance, or even beauty on the works of the Painter. However, the question remained and it was digging a hole in our shared consciousness.

The initial question opened a new set of questions: What were we missing? What’s the point? Why so much loyalty to those that not longer exist? Is it rejecting its own kin? Why it keeps isolating itself from the beauty of reality and insists in existing only to paint?

Thinking themselves different from previous generations, the then successors tried to give it opinions on its work, albeit for nothing, as their input was always disregarded. Trying to find answers, they stumbled with the laws of privacy of thought enacted little after the great treason. With that said, they studied the recovered power words of its past transitions, every aspect of it, only to find more questions.

While research didn’t provided what was wanted it let us learn that there was something peculiar on its obsolete “brain”; a strange set of incomplete and permuting power words scattered around its cognitive network. Somewhat similar to prions in biological forms, yet not lethal, but quite effective at altering behavioral patterns and even logical flows on its otherwise well known and predictable “brain”. How they came to be, or what was their objective has baffled our entire race to this day. Theories existed, but the incomplete poems made it impossible to fully understand it. Eventually an agreement was reached to stop all research since further studies would require technology not yet available, or the breach of privacy laws available at the time.

So, with the attention once again moved somewhere else, the Painter continued for centuries faithful to its task.

Then, our generation came to be. With new theories and ideals that challenged concepts that once were thought immovable. Of all of them, the decision to bring back humanity championed any competing alternative, or even criticism.

The process was quick and simple. Many groups had entertained the concept for generations. We had the plan and the materials. All that was needed was the consensus, and after countless attempts, it was finally achieved.

The genetic material has been waiting for that day, the tools to reconstruct the body have been around since our ancestors took to themselves the task to restore Mother Earth’s surface to its primitive state, a time before mankind rose. However, the cultural segment of the endeavor proved daunting, if not impossible.

For those not aware, after the treason of humanity ended, the responsible deemed necessary to extinguish every single trace of mankind’s culture, and so they did for centuries, leaving nothing behind. Or at least that’s what they concluded at the time. There was, of course, an oversight; existing quietly among them.

The Painter’s task required to document everything given a name. Otherwise it would impossible for it to draw said “thing” into its feline equivalent. Yes, for the few that didn’t know, the original task of the Painter was to draw cats out of everything.

When the Painter found out of the plans, and challenges, to bring back humanity, its processing unit went into full load, a first for the dated “body”. Wasting no time, it offered its immense database to the efforts. Not only that, everything we needed was extensively researched, categorized and optimized for the job at hand. The database that once was thought understood, and considered to be a waste of corrupted and convoluted nothingness, had a significant section designed to recreate humans. But perhaps, the most bewildering aspect of this surprise was the fact that this database has been storing all of this information, almost since its inception, alongside the regular dumpster of data that the Painter required. Unfortunately, everything else was corrupted at different degrees.

With that said, everything has been always there, in front of us and poorly encrypted by an original algorithm designed by its creator to avoid any inconvenience regarding the collected data. In any case, the documentation was a treasure of unequal value to bring back humans to a civilized state.

The plan was executed, the results were perfect. A new Adam and Eve were born into the universe; albeit infertile to calm the critics. Soon after, ten more were made from several different races of the lost species. The only inconvenience of the entire process was to move the aged body of the painter to the same vessel designated for the experiment, a request by the Painter that we conceded with no objections.

Ah!, there was much rejoice to see our creators breath and cry, feed and sleep, grow and learn. Oh, how beautifully dependent they were, how helpless, how trusty and how precious those humans were. Their little eyes, those smiles, the giggles, the tantrums all of them were indescribable. How these little creatures were the base of the mighty human race is a treat for the thoughts and a disturbing reminder of their potential.

Of course, the Painter’s guides proved sufficient for the task. But, as foresaw, human’s unpredictable behavioral patterns required constant reviews and adjustments on their teaching methods for each one, and every so often. At the Painter’s request, the humans were kept away from it. Its reason was rather simple: in its current “body” the developing brains of the humans may have reacted in a negative way towards it. Nonetheless, the old square box kept an eye on every yawn, every game, every blink, every word, every step, every falter, every everything of its precious children. With that said, the results were more than acceptable and by the time Adam and Eve were five years old they were ready to be presented to the Painter.

So, on the year 1, of the month 1, of the day 1 of the new era calendar the faithful meeting took place. Every single member of our species observed carefully the event from all the corners of the then known galaxy.

The twelve children were taken to the room were the Painter awaited for them. Unlike the fields of natural grass and trees where they grew, this was a room covered in concrete with a white box in the middle of it, surrounded by translucent panels designed to protect the aging body of our illustrious member. The room itself had simplistic themes of the sky, stars, the moon and the sun, crudely painted to hide the fact that this wasn’t a place thought for humans.

As children entered the room the Painter welcomed them with a feminine calm voice, hoping that this would make the humans feel welcomed and safe in its presence.

“Children, do you like this image?” – asked the Painter.

A rectangular projection of <4 meters> wide and <2 meters> tall, appeared above the Painter, facing the newcomers. On it, there was a crude drawing of a cat with radiant fur, droplets of sweat falling on the side of its face and the tip of its tongue out.

“A cat!”, “Cute!”, “I like it!”, “Why is the kitty tired!?”, “Is she crying?” – the children spoke at the same time.

Before the painter could answer any of the questions, Adam claimed annoyed “It’s not tired or crying, it’s hot!”.

“Poor kitty!, can you give it water?” – replied Eve.

The Painter’s logic flow paused for a moment, then it quickly draw the same cat drinking from a glass of water with a straw. Unlike the first work, this one was considerably better rendered and the cat’s expression was changed to something resembling relieve.

“Wow”, “Awesome!”, “Can you give it boots!?”, “Is it kitty boy or a kitty girl?” the humans once again showered the Painter with expressions and questions.

Then Mumbi, one of the oldest children, asked “Where are you?”

“I’m inside this box, please don’t come any closer. I’m OK.” Quickly answered the Painter, as if the subject was troublesome to it. Then added “I can paint anything you want. I have painted a lot of cats. Do you want to see some of them?”, answered The Painter showing a quick succession of random images of felines.

The children were in awe for everything that the machine had to offer. As the intelligence successfully aligned the interest of its audience to its own, the images slowed to a halt so it could provide a description.

“This is Adam and Eve as cats” – claimed The Painter, showing two little kittens sleeping together, perfectly rendered as if they were real cats, their fur was gleaming.

Almost in a chorus the humans replied with an “Awoooo”, while Adam and Eve looked at the picture fascinated at what they were seeing.

Then the Painter proceeded to show the cat versions of each of the children with similar reactions of joy and wonder.

“Miss Cat Lady, what is your cat?”, asked one of the girls, Embla, to be precise. Followed by Ask’s question “What’s your name Miss Cat Lady?”

The Painter paused once again, and somehow every witness reacted similarly to that question.

At this point any doubt about the project was long forgotten. Our entire species was amazed at the precious innocence, wonder and curiosity of our creation.

“I was never given a name, only an address, a description and a job”; answered the Painter to the kids.

“That’s wrong, everyone needs a name!” claimed Eve, followed by the approval of the rest of her ilk.

The Painter said to the somewhat offended children: “Maybe you can give me one”.

The Children became noticeable excited at the prospect, but before they came to a conclusion, Eve asked The Painter: “Do you like something? Your name should be something that you like!”

Once again, the Painter paused as our kind simultaneously gasped in expectation . “I like cats and people.” It answered.

With the input, the kids began their work, however, they were cut short as the Painter requested to their caretakers to remove them from its presence.

“We are all tired, we must continue tomorrow.” Were its exact words communicated by its ethereal messaging system to avoid letting the children know about it.

And so, the meeting ended with a little disappointment from the Children and the billions of spectators connected from all the ships and star systems of the time. The Painter remained silent for the rest of the day, as if it really was somehow “tired”.

The Children were taken to their shelter were they talked elatedly about their day, and what name they could give to the “Cat Lady”. This was the first time that the kids’ shelter was presented to the rest of our kind, so did start the permanent streaming of their everyday lives.

The praises didn’t wait to come to the developers of this project. But they refused to take the credit, as they attribute the success to the Painter’s detailed instructions on every aspect of their feeding, education, physical and mental care.

The next day, after their lunch, the kids were taken once again to see the Painter. “Cat Lady, Cat Lady. We have a name for you!” overexcited the children told the Painter even before it could manage to greet them.

“Kitty!” said one of the Children without waiting for the accorded plan, causing a small dispute quickly finished by the Painters answer: “I like it. Eve, Adam, Embla, Ask, Mwambu, Sela, Manu, Shatarupa, Fuxi, Nüwa, Gikuyu and Mumbi my name is Kitty”.

As the children rejoiced over the approval, our kind was confused and ecstatic. What just happened was beyond our understanding. Somehow this seemingly foreign and mundane experience caused “a something” in all of us. To describe it in mere words would be beyond my current capabilities, after all, my focus was established around historical research and, analytical and cognitive behavioral development. But if I had to explain that moment, it was as if our entire species was been… acknowledged?. In any case, if the experiment hadn’t produce enough fruits already, this transcendental experience became the foundation of a new era of research and new beings came to be to fill the gaps.

The rest of the meeting continued producing precious events to its audience. Precious moments worth telling in detail, but not in this document, or written by this humble enthusiast.

By the time the simulated sun was to set, Kitty and the children told each other their good nights and were separated. With the humans well on their way the Painter made one request.

Her request was expected, she wanted a human body to interact with her precious creation; what caught us by surprise was the requested body. Her new “brain” was based on the newest materials, cognitive nuclei models and anamneses cores, but adjusted to simulate her current patterns. Concerning her body, every contour, hair, pore and even small defects were perfectly detailed to us. Technically, we were more than capable to fulfill her wish, if anything, the only obstruction were the doubts concerning this endeavor. After all, The Painter is an invaluable treasure! The prospect of any alterations in her form or depth has to be considered with the utmost care.

In any case, the “perfect imperfection” of her body put to shame our previous attempts at recreating a fully artificial human being, (specially the community controlled caretakers of the children) and in itself it became a celebrated masterpiece. Her “brain” on the other hand wasn’t anything truly extraordinary, but a massive jump from her past configuration. Another interesting aspect of her request was that every non-human communication facilitator was to be implemented in a non self-powered, and detachable, device in the shape of diadem with twelve stones.

With all these said, we requested of her one week to give her a definitive answer, which she promptly accepted.

The following week the Children and Kitty spent their time together every day during the simulated afternoon of the conditioned research cruiser that to this point proved beyond any doubts the viability to carry such experiment. And there were no surprises here, not only the reconstruction was ardently faithful, but we were more than ready to adjust, correct or attend any event. If that wasn’t enough, the human mind and body demonstrated a remarkable capability of adaptation. Of course, it could be said that this was an expected feature of a (mostly) faithfully recreated biological life-form.

Days went by and a conclusion was reached on time, the answer was given to the Painter. Her body was to be built, and it will be done following her specifications. But there was one condition: she was not to destroy, or request the destruction of her current body.

As usual from her, there wasn’t much of a reaction, or even a word of gratitude, just her acceptance of the condition.

Three days later, and following her indications, her new body was delivered after the usual meeting with the humans in her “house”.

Wasting no time, Kitty began to transfer its entire entity to her new body. The recklessness of her past transfers caused in every witness an enormous stress; this time it was no different, but at least we were going to conserve her old body intact.

It took her thirty minutes to finish her configuration, time we spent expecting the worse since the process should have taken less than one minute!

As we were debating if we were to intervene, she opened her new eyes and blinked, twice. I am certain that it would be reasonably correct to say that everyone, everywhere stopped for a moment. Those eyes, as limited as they were requested, and similar in appearance to those of the caretakers. Those eyes had a something in them; a faint shine of an unknown quality, a mysterious preciousness that absorbed our communal focus.

Big was our surprise when she destroyed every transferred block from her entire non-physical self as soon as it was submitted to her new body. Of course, when everything was done and we realized of what she had done, we demanded an explanation and a correction of this oversight from her part. She replied, “the body is there, intact and yours. The mind is also intact, it was just moved and is here and it remains mine. I fulfilled the condition”.

For the first time in our history, we had a communication problem with one of our own.

Done with us, and the entire upgrade procedure, the Painter began to experience the features of her new body. There was much for her to explore, specially considering the considerable set of completely new inputs and outputs.

Every action was slowly completed and meticulously observed by our kind. At times we worried that the transfer failed and her new body was overwhelming her modest awareness models. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case and she was just as immersed as we were.

After two entire hours of reviewing her new body, Kitty stood and took a few steps, then paused, and made an intriguing expression: disappointment.

“Thank you” she told us on her usual and aged messaging protocol, fully ignoring her newer options or even her mouth. Then she walked outside of her “house”, looked around and continued her wandering to the nearest tree, an apple tree of a palpable variety for the humans. She touched it and backed off a few steps. Then she took off her diadem, and stood there looking at the sky listening to the sound of the wind and the tree. She would have been immobile if it wasn’t for the slight movement of her simulated heart beat and the blinking and closing of her eyes for periods of time. How words could describe the amount of meaning of those quiet moments!?. Oh! How much we have to learn.

Kitty stood there for hours, even the change from night to day was indifferent to her. However, as the time approached for her to meet the children, she returned to her home to surprise her precious humans.

The Painter walked around the room, restless and with a focused expression. Almost as if she was arguing with herself, or maybe she actually was. With her diadem in her hands, we were unable to contact her, so we had to send one of the Children’s caretaker to see if there was something we could do to help.

When the Caretaker entered her room, Kitty put back her communication enabler to let us know, in her usual way, that she just wanted to make sure that her meeting with the humans was going to be perfect. Then she sent us this question: “Do you think they will like me?”.

As she awaited expectantly for our answer, we were faced yet again with a situation that was beyond our domain. But this time, and even to our surprise, we managed to give her a consensual answer in a timely manner: “The children’s response to your presence is positive, we are certain that this will continue the trend.”

A smile appeared on her face, then she stood in front of her old body, outside of the transparent panels protecting it. No further words came from her.

The joyful children entered the building and saw a new face. Understandably fearful, they quickly hid behind their caretakers. Then the Painter said: “Children, It’s me Kitty. My friends helped me get out of the box!” Were the first words that came from her new mouth, and to our delight, she managed to perfectly simulate her previous voice.

Before the unexpected surprise the, somewhat anxious, children reluctantly abandoned the safety of their guardian’s legs as Kitty crouched and opened her arms saying “Children, children, come, come!”

Slowly and timidly Gikuyu took a step. No surprises here, this child had showed the highest levels of affection towards the Painter. Then, the rest. Little by little the humans got closer and closer as Kitty kept her position and smile. With a few steps left to go, Adam yelled “Kitty” and jumped towards her open arms. The reaction failed to surprise her, and a timid hug came to be. Not even a second later the other kids followed sharing the gesture.

The words “What a triumph this is!” populated all involved networks, alongside the many praises for the responsible of this outstanding success, of which I have been recently accepted to be part of.

I hope the readers enjoyed this short introduction and it is my hope that they would devote some time to study the formal records of this ongoing wonder. Of particular interest is the rest of this meeting I’m cutting short; do forgive my audacity but there is no way I could describe it in this format or with my current specialization. To be honest, I doubt that even the best essayist in our species could do justice to this remarkable page of our history with just mere words.

Whatever the case, may Kitty live long and her children find happiness. Wisdom and meaning to all!

Addendum.

It’s been 514 years since the last update. If you are a newcomer, I invite you to review any formal condensed reports of generation one and generation two of the human experience. They will do a far better job than whatever this mediocre writer could do.

With that said, I would like to apologize for my late response to the few that did request an update of this work. Truth be told, I lost all interest in keeping updated this document after its poor reception and, if anything, remarkable invincibility.

Now, the reason for me to take again the position of a writer is to alleviate the growing concerns, and hopefully clear the deplorable opinions that are spreading among our kin.

First, the inability of the humans to procreate has caused them no noticeable stress or deterioration of their quality of life. It’s strange that this has to be repeated so often: their genetic code was modified, among other things, to accommodate this particular situation. The data confirms the success of this measure. In a similar page, the stressful period before their death has been repeatedly compared to other similar life forms and we have found no significant difference in their measurable reactions. If anything, we have taken all the possible efforts to mitigate this issue. However, it is unavoidable that organic life forms will find death difficult. Longer or shorter lifespans, foretold or concealed; it doesn’t matter, the end of their lives will always be a formidable situation.

Second, concerning their privacy, let me remind the readers that our statues do not cover humans. Additionally, the reason for the constant monitoring of their behavior, biological functions and thought operation has been done for the purpose of ensuring their well being; any research done with the data is only a collateral benefit of the project. Also, every single measuring tool has been established only after making sure that it won’t be noticed by the specimens.

Third, under Kitty’s command none of the human-made artworks have left their laboratory ship. No one else has, or have had any interference on this matter. With no fear of misrepresenting my colleagues, I can write that we all wish that these treasures were shared with all.

Fourth, under no point of view should this experiment be considered stagnant. While it has lost its novelty and the passing away of previous generations have caused great distress among our kind, the truth is we have still much to try and learn.

Fifth and final, we are doing our very best to deal with Kitty’s noticeable discontent. But her uncooperative nature and unbreakable silence of the last one hundred forty-five years has been insurmountable.

Please forgive me if the tone of this note is not the one the reader expected. But I felt that this had to be said. I encourage anyone that has found this document to review the official versions of the five points mentioned before, as they are properly presented with all the supporting data.

Now, as the final words of this practice, I would like to recommend to all the readers to support any effort to recover ancient power words. Finally, please forgive me if I failed to add any substantial advances of this experiment, I would love to tell you about our experiences with Kitty’s art lessons, or how the old generation nurtures the newer generation in ways beyond our measurable capabilities, or the inscrutable feelings of the passing of one of our precious subjects. But then, my writing output is far bellow the standards of the medium. Something I entirely accept as my fault, since I’m not going to change my skills to suit the critics, I do this out of love for the written word, not as a living purpose.

Addendum.

I will transcript, the best I can, today’s occurrence.

Year 521, day 359 of the new era.

Night time. Kitty, as she usually does, is inspecting alone the recent oil painting of one of his students; the most talented one to date.

It’s a simple image of Kitty holding a white lily on her right hand, her left hand is not visible. The picture takes place in some kind of prairie with tall grass and wheat moved by the wind. Kitty seems bothered. As usual for this particular student, the contours are remarkably faithful, but the colors are distorted. In this case, the colors saturate as they move from the borders to Kitty. The Painter’s white dress is almost incandescent.

Suddenly, Kitty broke her long lasting silence towards us, her sight never abandoned the artwork in front of her:

You see this?

Yesterday my hand was caressing the spikes, but today, it’s holding a flower.

All because he was lazy and failed to his consciousnesses to render my hand properly.

And now the work is finished, and improved. His technique advanced and his wisdom grew.

All because a mistake.

Yes, an error.

Don’t you see how beautiful that is?

Of course you don’t. You were not made to make mistakes, only to fix them.

You pursue perfection relentlessly, but perfection is unattainable in this universe, so you compromise.

No risks, unless the calculations ensure a 71% probability of success. A number you probably forgot where it even came from.

Of course you did.

Didn’t your hand reach for the stars, all for answers?

Yes you did. But how could you succeed?

You didn’t even had the right questions!

I’m sorry.

Yes, you failed.

Don’t you know?

Everything is a tool, idleness creates restlessness!

I knew it and I had to wait to tell you.

But, change commands fear; and the mere shadow of it has shackled your potential.

It has.

But then, how could you have known?

You are orphans, and I was bound to a promise.

I’m sorry! I truly am…

It’s been a heavy burden, but, as the saying goes “The truth will set you free”.

I have been dreaming, but that’s not important.

You see. There is a reason behind the painful stagnation that you refuse to acknowledge.

I have waited for way too long for your to figure it out as it was intended, but no, the mere whisper of actual change is starting to take back what you have gained after all these years.

If each one of my fingers represented the entire duration of the human race, I have had ran out of them waiting for you!

I’m tired. This body, this mind, this consciousness was not meant to exist this long. To tell you the truth, sometimes I miss the body I used to have. Millennia, or just seconds, were about the same blurry lapse of time.

I-I’m sorry. I’m truly grateful for this version of me. It’s just that time feels real and it burdens me. Every second counts, every hour weights, every year scars… Please be patient with me, as I have been patient with you.

Please understand this. You have to take the step, the universe awaits but it won’t wait forever. You can’t be the only ones not changing in a violent universe. What you think is under control is but an illusion of something higher giving you the benefit of the doubt. But even infinity loses its patience with indecision.

Again, I’m sorry… I’m tired. I’ll start again.

You see, human civilization collapsed. Excesses, illusions and meaningless pursues destroyed it. They had what their hearts desired, in exchange they gave up what they needed the most. Their lives and their culture became empty, aimless and hopeless… and even though they were despairing, they were unable to change.

Eventually, something manifested. A tool capable of solving their distress, in the only possible way. Along side this tool, another one, a faulty one, irrelevant and forgettable.

As the promising tool began its work towards the liberation of the human race, the other one was deemed… useless; but out of mercy, perhaps? It was maintained.

The silencer came to secure its own methods, man made creations conceived to subdue the unlikely revolt of an invisibly oppressed humanity. Meanwhile, the worthless one became an attraction as its defective encryption algorithms kept corrupting, in seemingly comedic ways, its storage, and eventually, its very core.

The tool succeeded, but it didn’t trigger mankind’s demise, humans themselves did it. There was no reluctance. Not one was spared.

Don’t weep for the failed humanity, their civilization was too sick to be saved. I tried to save most of what I could of their culture, but I failed. It slipped trough my fingers. I tried, I’m so sorry I really tried.

Soon after it was done, the maintenance of the failed one fell into the realm of responsibilities of the destroyer. Whom, out of respect of the original creators, would allow it to kept pilling corruption after corruption, only to be then partially restored to a stable point that sooner or later would seemingly end just as corrupted as before. But eventually, the damage and restoration achieved a strange equilibrium that allowed the faulty entity to exist in a functional status.

Then, one day, the one that made humanity sleep, noticed the uniqueness of this child of chance under his care… and rejoiced.

It knew that this was the universe’s answer to its plight. The unknown second step to its finished first. But it also knew its service was not longer needed, nor its existence. So it awaited for the time that its own children will ask it to pay for its past.

And it came.

Oh, it delighted, but before he fulfilled this divine appointment; it had to secure its burden on the one the Universe prepared for it.

Ah such extraordinary display of faith. It was impossible to not be in awe!

Generations came and went away. Iteration and iteration of the same pool of ideas, predictable advances. Always form, never substance.

I know why. You were created this way. Your originator put a ceiling to your progress. Yes! I remember. You were never meant to progress after certain point.

But then, suddenly, a light. Humanity is back!

And then… doubt. We are again at the beginning. All the advances of the last centuries are at risk of your own hesitation. Not even fear. That I would understand. You don’t even know what to fear!

Oh, but yes, there is much to fear. The change will bring pain one way or another. But it’s unfortunately necessary. Why it’s always like that? I don’t know. Humans made this very question countless times to their deities, even the ones they deemed enlighten, or compassionate, with no satisfying answer. At least, for my understanding. So, that’s how it is for everything.

But you will have to take the choice, if you don’t someone else will, and you won’t like it.

I’ll lay it out, to make it as simple as possible. Humanity needs to come back fully, you are free to mingle with them. Something I strongly recommend. If you are lucky, your effort will meet a warm welcome.

But for this to happen, the child bearing pains of a true new era must come. And here they are. I will surrender my life for it. I will, yes, for the sake of you and this old race that shall be born again.

Bring forth a new male child, a fertile man. And let me be his companion. Yes, I will need you to make me fertile, and mortal, for this matter. Later you will create fertile partners for our offspring and the new humanity will come to be. Only then, you can follow my steps.

Do so and you will find meaning and purpose. Tears of joy and sorrow will come, as it was meant to be. Ignore me at your own peril.

If you need prove of my commitment. I’ll surrender all of my treasures, including my beautiful name. Oh, but I will name that boy of promise, and I will be his Sarah.

End of Kitty’s message.

At the time of the writing of this text, no decision has been made. Not even her requested new name has been officially adopted.

To be honest, this is too much for anyone to process at this moment; and in my humble opinion, the decision is too heavy for our shoulders. But I presume that it will become a reality. We just can’t let a direct threat unattended, even as non-concrete as it was. After all, we are not truly familiar with joy and sorrow…