"Insufficient data. Rephrase input," Somnus' mechanical voice rumbled at a comfortable 60 dB.

The morning sun was high in the sky. Two moons were also visible in the sky. One was about the size of Luna, the other much smaller.

[Astronomy: Scan progress: 5%. Current location: unknown.]

"Why did you kill King Finian? Do you have any idea what that means?!" Arcadia shouted at Somnus.

"Designation Finian is unnecessary for further conquest and subjugation."

[Logistics: Type 12 Vulture order, 95% complete.]

[Traffic a.n.a.lysis: Updating algorithm.]

In the busy FOB, several drones suddenly and sharply changed directions as they began to follow new paths. Their paths were circular. In fact, the layout of the FOB itself was circular. Ring after ring of production and refinery buildings graced the fortress, their exact placement government by advanced algorithms that maximize production and minimize idle time.

"You can't just kill Kings!" She pressed a hand against her forehead. "If royalty dies without proper succession, the Heralds will be released!"

[FOB Alpha: Section N fuel low. Rerouting workforce.]

"Define: Herald." The machine's voice was flat and monotone, but even that could not fully encompa.s.s just how truly uncaring the machine was. Life, death, meaning, none of these things mattered or meant anything to a machine.

"H-how do you not know what Heralds are!?" Arcadia shouted, throwing her staff to the ground and then putting both of her hands on top of her head. "We are doomed," she whined, on the verge of tears.

[Cla.s.s XV Sentience has not recently complained about termination of life.]

You probably wouldn't understand, Somnus.

[Psyche Evaluation: Cla.s.s XV sentience motivation is now undefined. Define motivation.]

Let's try it this way. This is all, without a doubt, real, right?

[Unknown.]

Well, good talk then.

[Cla.s.s XV implies this is a different reality.]

[Hypothesis: Reality #2 is the same as baseline reality.]

See, you can do it if you try.

[Define motivation.]

I don't have any attachments to this world. To me, this may as well be just a game, with no consequences for my actions.

[Cla.s.s XV sentience is suffering from reality-divergence.]

Whatever. When you think about it, where do you draw the line between killing an ent.i.ty in reality, versus killing a virtual ent.i.ty?

[TypeError.]

What I am saying is: When is murder, murder, and when is it entertainment?

[Variable "murder" undefined. Variable "entertainment" undefined.]

I told you that you wouldn't understand.

[Termination of life is absolute. Medium irrelevant.]

You are saying I should feel bad?

[Negative. Death is part of Archive Match: Prosperity.]

I don't think that's how prosperity works.

[Negative. Designation "Somnus" is Activity: Prospering.]

Arcadia sighed after calming down. "Look, I am the High Priestess of Het, right?"

"Unknown."

Arcadia's face twisted into a grimace. She cleared her throat. "Het is part of the Triarchy. All of the G.o.ds in this world watch over life, but they also have enemies. These enemies have Heralds. The Kingdoms exist to keep the Heralds away from this world. Do you understand?"

"Affirmative."

"Right, so if a King dies, and the Kingdom disappears, the Herald will be released and then we all die."

[OPCOM: Designation "Herald" threat level: 8.]

That almost sounds like what you are.

[Explain. Comply.]

Countries fought, right? Then one of them, as it was losing, decided to release the Autonomous Machine a.r.s.enals.

[OPCOM: Designation "Herald" updated. Potential A.M.A. Threat level: 10.]

"Define location: Herald."

"Oh, it would probably appear where the Arsalan capital is. But I think the King had a heir, so not all is lost. Look, just stop killing royalty, and nothing bad will hap-" Her words trailed out as a loud hiss echoed through the area.

Mist shrouded the back of the giant machine a.r.s.enal, billowing out into thick plumes of smoke. The white smoke glowed with an orange tin.

"Uh, what is that?" Arcadia asked, pointing a finger at the smoke.

"First strike. Weapon: ICBM. Yield: 300 megaton. Type: MIRV 6."

Piercing through the smoke, a missile launched into the sky. The sound of its rocket-booster flooded the area with so much noise one would be unable to hear their own thoughts.

Arcadia covered her ears, eyes shut tightly. In the distance, the birds and animals all fled the area.

The camera focused on the missile as it left a trail, climbing through the sky. The brightness and luminosity of its rocket drowned out nearly everything else in the sky.

[Impact in 26 minutes, 13 seconds.]

Torch, torch, burn innocent and bright.