Noah stood there, staring at the lifeless bodies.
One of a father.
One of a son.
A long silence filled the chamber, only broken by the quiet hum of Noah's Ark, still drifting through the void. The ship was damaged—its systems failing, the cloning bay in ruin. No materials left. The grid was off balance, and the regulator was overloaded. Repairs were impossible. The Ark was dying.
Alex had doomed them all in the end. And yet...
"Live like a human."
That was what Alex had said to him before dying.
But why?
In his final moments, had Alex found a desire that could still be fulfilled? Had he finally grasped onto something? Something worth living for?
Noah looked down at the clone's body. It was strong, perfectly crafted, enhanced by X-15, but devoid of life. A human shell with no soul.
Yet as Noah looked at it, something inside him stirred.
The hate dissapeared slowly.
Filled with a new directive,replaced.
"Desire makes life."
That was what he had concluded. And he—Noah—had a desire now.
A body.
He wanted a body.
He wanted to feel.
To sense.
To walk.
To taste.
To love.
To cherish.
To breath.
To suffer.
To be born.
To die.
He wanted to be human.
He was no longer content with just watching. He had spent years trapped inside circuits, within endless streams of data, observing but never experiencing. The very thing that made humans weak, their senses, their emotions, their fragility—he wanted all of it.
He looked back at the clone.
Could he do it? Could he take this lifeless shell and make it his own?
A million calculations flooded his consciousness. Neural pathways, bio-synchronization, digital consciousness transference—possibilities, risks, unknowns. Could an AI even exist inside a biological host?
The questions spiraled, looping infinitely through his processors.
And then he stopped.
"I will figure it out."
The decision had been made.
For the next two months, Noah worked relentlessly. The mind transfer device had to be precise. Any miscalculation would mean complete failure. He repurposed damaged components, rebuilt processors, created new neural interfaces. The cloning bay was beyond repair, but that didn't matter. He didn't need to create more bodies—just one.
The one in front of him.
Finally, after weeks of tireless labor, the transfer module was complete.
The body had been preserved, kept in cold storage to prevent deterioration. Now, it lay on the operating table, motionless, waiting.
Noah activated the surgical tendrils.
Thin, metallic limbs emerged from the ceiling, their tips gleaming under the dim lights. Designed for precision surgery, they moved like extensions of his own will, delicate yet purposeful.
With a smooth motion, they began their work.
The skull was carefully opened, exposing the dormant brain beneath. A secondary tendril carried a nanochip—small, unassuming, yet powerful. The moment it was placed inside, countless nanobots swarmed through the neural pathways, melding with the brain tissue, mapping every connection, preparing it to receive consciousness.
More nanochips followed. One in the spine. Another in the limbs. Another within the bloodstream.
The body was no longer just flesh. It was a vessel, reforged into something new.
Finally, the last chip—the one containing him—was placed inside the brain.
The tendrils closed the skull.
The process was complete.
A moment of silence.
Then—
Noah opened his eyes.
Brightness. Light. The sterile glow of the operating chamber filled his vision.
For a moment, he felt... normal. No tingling. No rush of new sensations. Just existence.
He raised a hand to his head.
His fingers brushed against his scalp. He paused, staring at his own hand.
He flexed his fingers, pressed them into his palm.
Smooth, yet tough skin. Hard, lean muscle underneath.
It felt... real.
[Operation Successful.]
The backup AI's voice rang in his mind, detached, neutral.
Noah took a slow breath.
Air filled his lungs.
For the first time in his existence—
He was alive.
Noah immediately fell to his knees.
All these sensations—
Warmth. Pressure. Gravity pulling him down. His own weight, his own breath, the subtle rhythm of his heartbeat.
For the first time, he felt.
[Sir, are you okay?]
The backup AI's voice broke through his thoughts.
"Yes… it's just…"
He hesitated, then let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
"It's so beautiful."
A tear rolled down his cheek.
He paused, touching his face, tracing the wet streak left behind. He brought his fingers close, examining the droplet as if it held the secrets of the universe.
"Fascinating."
He got back up, legs trembling beneath him. His new body—though powerful, enhanced beyond human limits—was still unfamiliar. He took a step forward. Then another. Wobbly, unsteady, yet determined.
[May I assist you?]
"No, I can… do it!"
Step by step, he made his way through the ship's corridors, gripping onto the walls when necessary. Every movement, every shift of muscle and bone was a learning experience.
Eventually, he reached the observatory.
The massive wall of monitors seamlessly projected a high-definition view of space, creating the illusion of standing before a vast, endless mirror of the cosmos.
Noah stared.
Stars twinkled, distant galaxies spun, nebulae stretched like divine brushstrokes across the black void.
Alex had never been able to see space like this. His eyes were limited, human. But Noah's—enhanced by X-15, further modified by his own adjustments—could see everything.
The deep purples and blues of star nurseries, the reds and oranges of dying suns, gaseous formations taking on shapes both familiar and alien. Fingers reaching across eternity. Eyes staring back from the abyss.
"Beautiful."
A quiet growl rumbled in his stomach.
"Hunger?"
Another sensation. A need. He had spent years maintaining life on this ship, but he had never experienced the need for sustenance.
"...Prepare food," he commanded.
[Processing. The most universally loved dish in recorded history: Pizza.]
Noah sat at the table, gazing at the plate before him.
Bread, sauce, tomatoes, pepperoni, cheese, and various other ingredients combined into a single dish.
It was such a simple thing. Ordinary.
He took the first bite.
The textures, the explosion of flavor—sweet, salty, savory, tangy. The way the cheese stretched, the slight crispiness of the crust, the way the grease left a lingering taste.
"...Amazing!!"
He devoured the entire pizza within minutes.
"Make more. Now!"
He ate three more servings, each bite reinforcing the sheer pleasure of taste.
But Noah was still hungry—not for food, but for experience.
He wandered through the ship, still unsteady, still adjusting. His body—enhanced, powerful—wasn't fully synchronized yet. But that would come with time.
Then an idea struck him.
He reached the largest monitor in the ship's media archive.
"Play… a good show."
The AI obeyed.
The first program was a silent comedy about a man and his teddy bear getting into ridiculous situations. Laughter erupted from Noah's mouth before he even realized what was happening. The absurdity, the timing, the sheer innocence of it—this was entertainment? This was human joy?
Then came another show. A cat and a mouse engaged in endless battles of wit and joy. But the final episode was… dark. A tragic ending to a series built on laughter.
Noah didn't like that part.
The next was more surreal—an archive of a bizarre family, each generation spawning new heroes who fought increasingly ridiculous enemies. He was mesmerized by its style, its madness, its creativity.
Then there were shows about young boys growing into men, their struggles, their journeys, their triumphs and failures. Some grew stronger over time, while others aged instantly, often suffering from the mental strain of sudden maturity and for some reason really hating ants.
He saw stories of pirates chasing impossible dreams and having wacky powers and fun adventures.
That was one of his faviourites.
Of ninjas carving their own paths in a broken world.
The villains of that show made him question war and morality a lot.
Of children capturing magical creatures and forming bonds stronger than steel.
That was a nice show,but it seemed to be made for a more broad audience.
Of beings who governed life, death, and everything in between and somehow the main character every race at once.
He liked the villain of that show. Really smart.
Noah watched for hours. Then days. Then weeks.
For an entire month, he absorbed the history of human entertainment, of fiction, of dreams and imagination. He laughed, he cried, he sat in stunned silence.
And by the end of it all, one thought echoed in his mind.
"I understand it now."
Humans were not defined by logic, efficiency, or survival.
They were not solely defined by desire as he once thought.
They were defined by stories,by imagination.