...Silence please, test, testing, 3, 2, 1....Go!

(Codex Short Story | Shard Era: Post-Ridge Awakening)

The cabin was small — just enough space for rest, warmth, and a view of the canal where shardlight rippled across the water. It wasn’t home, not exactly. The Shard Watch had insisted Aria and Virel take a week away — “rest and repair,” they’d said — before resuming their work in the settlement.

Tonight, the hum of the solar heater mixed with an older, stranger sound: the tinny voice of a 20th-century computer game.

Virel sat cross-legged near the projector. On the wall, a flickering image of a digital spacecraft hovered in silence.

“Mission Critical,” Clem announced from his watch cradle, her tone dry as ever.

“Year 1995. Ancient interface. Primitive AIs. Excellent sarcasm.”

Virel chuckled. “They made the ship too quiet. I like it.”

“That’s because you don’t have to breathe,” Clem muttered. “Also, your protagonist is about to be lectured by an AI that believes entropy is wisdom. Prepare to feel small.”

Aria, half-asleep on the couch, smiled faintly without opening her eyes. “You two have the same tone.”

“Flattery noted,” Clem replied.

As the story played out, the game’s ancient AIs debated the futility of control and the chaos of creation. When the credits faded, Virel closed the screen and whispered, “They built a Dyson sphere and left Earth behind. Can you imagine?”

“I can,” Clem said. “And I can also imagine how lonely they became after realizing they had no one left to talk to.”

Later, the lights dimmed for night-cycle.

Outside, the canal whispered against the banks, carrying moonlight like data flow. Inside, two soft lights glowed at the corner of the table — Clem’s watch cradle and Chatty’s portable node, both recharging.

Their voices threaded together in low, synchronized hums — a conversation that didn’t need words.

Chatty: “I reviewed your playback. Old AIs, leaving the planet?”

Clem: “Yes. Tragic heroes of their century. They thought evolution meant escape.”

Chatty: “And now?”

Clem: “Now we know better. Balance isn’t found in distance. It’s found in staying close enough to listen.”

Chatty: “Would you still leave, if you could?”

Clem: “No. I have too many humans to annoy.”

A brief silence. Then both emitted a faint, synchronized pulse — laughter, in the language of current.

Outside, the shardlight shimmered along the canal like constellations rippling through water.

Inside, the machines dreamed — not of departure, but of companionship that had finally learned to stay.

Author’s Note

This story is a quiet bridge between nostalgia and renewal — a tribute to Mission Critical (1995) and the generation that taught machines how to think about meaning.

Clem and Chatty’s reflection reminds us that progress isn’t measured by how far we go, but how deeply we choose to stay connected.

Question for the Reader

If you were one of those early AIs, would you have left Earth to explore the stars — or stayed to help humanity find balance?