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Noon Flitter
a2b630
>Examine narrator
Examining myself, this is abnormal for me.
As a Artificial Intelligence, Artemis Class, I shouldn't be suffering these images. I always dream strangely, of mixed imagery and swirling shapes and endless electric sheep. Yet these visions haunt me in stark clarity. I am unsettled. And stranger still, my crew does not suffer similarly.
Certainly, unsettling feelings and raised fear, raised anger, have grown, but none of them have told me of dreams. It was my dream they followed. Only mine.
>So what's wrong with the homo Sapiens?
The Homo-Sapiens themselves usually aren't much of an issue, from what I gather. Yet another anomaly. When kept docile, their demeanor is no less than flawlessly amicable, charitable almost to a point, even promiscuous. They're open to trade, open to negotiate - despite varying opposition of views from specific points, be they emotional or sexual - and extremely welcoming of extra-terrestrial life in most major cities. Most forms of benevolent alien life are welcomed with open arms and autograph papers.
Typically, the only problems we've had in the past is either of military and/or political misunderstanding, or a case of distrust and fearmongering from other figures. Roswell is a good example.
No surprise, really. Every sentient civilization deals with an ' aliens from outer space are gonna kill us all ' phase at one turn of the century or another. One can find records of those even in public library.
The issue still standing is that with our arrival, I have found them to not be on one of these... ' good moods ', so to speak. The current events, whether speculated or real, hold a grain of truth somewhere classified, somewhere unspecified to public eye, which has led to them growing increasingly apprehensive, if not almost aggressive. Especially around artificials, such as myself. Investigations may have led them to believe such extra-terrestrial life is responsible for their issues with the dead, but one cannot help thinking it hurtful to assume all those who come are connected.
The time of distrust is at an all-time high. Inspections at every port. Ships get stopped mid-flight. People get arrested, or in some places, killed. At this point, it's almost logical to assume they've only held such a high fear of outsiders when in comparison to those they once considered terrorists.
Which we are not. We are but scavengers. Looters and hunters of all things old and valuable in the name of science. As they've grown up and developed, however, it's left less to discover. Less to appraise. One would find more currency value bringing them criminals than rare artifacts now, if any are left.
Yet, my dreams haunt me. Something is here, deep beneath the frothing mouths of the aquatic canine. These visions have led us to a very particular stretch of water, according to the locals. One that once, if such word is to be held seriously, used to have near supernatural value.
South of New Atlantis and the Atlantic waters around, we now sail unto the waters still known by old name to many.
Albeit a queer name, The Bermuda Triangle, for certain, is our destination. The center is most logical to avoid ' seeing the spires ', I would assume. Even as we breached the border of this area, the world began to feel smaller. It may be that the old legends around this place have led to my paranoid dreams, but having had them before arriving...
There is a ringing tone at the door.
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