On February 14th, 2022, three posts were made by the user, the difference between these and the earlier posts, is in the shift of perspective. For many, this has ruled out the any possibility of the user being under delusions, as some contacted professionals have stated, this sort of 'broader prospective' is uncommon in those experiencing delusions of grandure, or self importance.

However, many make the point that for someone to have described the real world events and tragidies moments after they occured, with such a vaneer; they would have to be completely unempathetic, whether they are experiencing psychotic breaks, or simply taking it as fodder for their personal power fantasy.

If the latter is true, then it is ironic that they would depict characters affiliated with 'God' as the enemy.

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Audio information viable at 11:00-11:05 via the maker’s soft-light info projector. Device was compromised two months prior.

They came to a result.

After the trio made their own analysis on our forces, they discussed their plan of attack.

“Nothing?” the maker is confused.

“We’re not doing nothing. My boys are patrolling this neighbourhood as we speak. I will not, however, let this bull crap ruin my birthday. So, you, me and Ae, aren’t going to do anything we wouldn’t do otherwise.”

Realigning accordingly…

There is a knock at the door. It is a pawn.

“Boss?”

The Pollutant approached the door, despite the maker’s slight protest.

“Tay-tay. Shouldn’t you be serving product? Where’s the wig?”

Increased heart rate detected on the pawn’s smart watch. Watch was compromised 0.0002 seconds prior.

“I will do my job. Not this.”

The pollutant’s voice is filtered through clenched teeth.

“Your job is whatever I say it is. And I say…”

Interruption.

“My job is not to serve the crown. Nor is it the betterment of our business. It is to fight for the cause. I disobeyed orders, I know. I’ve done nothing but fail you since you got here. But this? Serving the bar? You know I can do better, that I am made for better. Whether or not you let me, I will fight against anything that poses a threat to the ‘end’.”

Pause.

“You know that I am willing to die to for it.”

The pollutant lets out a sharp exhale.

“The Quarter. Drive down there and help the others sweep for bombs.”

Increased heart rate detected on the pawn’s smart watch. (2)

“Thank you, Clover.”

“Fuck off.”

Agitation in voice noted.

Maker is intrigued. He is interested in the variety of personality quirks an individual may develop under different circumstances, and how those personalities interact with each other. Likely a result of his unique ‘mind’.

Hypothesis: Maker is smiling.

Reasoning: 3 linear years of observation and interaction. Subject rarely ever breaks smile. Phycological reasoning. Maker puts up no social fronts, unlike other homo sapiens.

The maker is happy. Enamoured with ideas of supposed superiority, due to never encountering a better in his field, and his lack of failures. Pollutant has been defeated in a conversation, and is openly showing stress.

Thus: Maker believes he is in a better condition than another + Currently viewing clash of personalities =happiness.

Happiness + Open show of mental state = Smile.

Thus, Maker is smiling.

Attempting to secure further pleasure, the maker will goad the pollutant.

“Was that an Akecheta? Damn, I thought they were wiped out. Looks like you somehow got your hands on one though. Don’t really think that’s needed out here. Sort of like a knife without a steak. Man, I really could go for a some grub right now. You know where I can get some? Can’t find-“

Interruption.

“Fuck up!”

Agitation noted (2)

The demon chimes in,

“I want to go back to the party. Text me if a robot shows up. I don’t really care about the human one’s, they sounded boring.”

The Pollutant seconded, “Cool! I’ll text that big green dick for you, Seong-Soo.”

The demon laughed. Note made for later phycological profiling.

Two sets of foot prints can be heard. It is most likely the two females leaving the room, judging solely from the noise generated from the footsteps, maker’s info projector remaining in the room, and by the pitch of the squeal made by whoever is standing in the liquid near the door.

Maker can be heard admitting that he is “Really getting sick of this.”, before shouting too his new team. “Yeah, I’m cool with this, so long as you can get me some better weed, babe.”

Hypothesis. The maker is getting tired. Reasoning: subject’s tendency to admit feelings aloud.

Conclusion: The program is running smoothly.

Current projection of victory in favour of the Circuit Board Seven, in the battle with the ‘Birthday-Valentines trio’:

1:1

Current time scale-11:05-11:30

Further data must be gathered.

Location is known

Location is unknown. Location blocking software on all devices is too high for afforded software.

Processing…

Positive conclusion route found.

Note: Party mentioned.

Locating high density of cellular devices, 8 likely locations found.

Checking snapchat.

Trixie O’Neill posts: ‘Derry girl can’t hold it lol’. Image posted. Facial match with the pollutant using British passport records.

Location is known

Location blocker covers premisses. Either a site based system, or one organised by the maker.

Planning in advance required.

Temporal interference required.

Backwards planning.

It is possible for me to know this; thus, I know this. Such is the nature of a string of infinty. There is simply no reason not to take the best route as predicted (Ignoring any outcomes manifesting after May 31st.

I had access to knowledge concerning both the time in which the maker would spend in Ireland and the pollutant’s date of birth and hormonal level. The later can be gained by analysing the subjects menstral cycle.

Due to having a shared…

Acquaintance…

It is likely that the maker will attend the party, and thus form an alliance with the pollutant, due to the latter’s interference. Interference can be assumed due to the pollutants hormonal level, and loneliness.

They have recently seperated from all relations, including Bastard. Judging from available psychologicl history of the pollutant, they are desperate for any form of companionship, even if it isn’t real.

Researching common party foods: Compromising packaging of various commonly bought brands.

Hypothesis: Due to shortage and noticeable contamination of edible goods, the guests will complain. The pollutant is hard set on having a ‘good party’, thus, will not resist the need for snacks. Prideful ego will stop the pollutant from sending anyone else.

Under assumption that this hypothesis=true, Checking activity of cctv cameras near convenience stores in ‘Tralee’.

Facial match with the pollutant using British passport records.

Facial match with the maker using American passport records.

Time scale-1:30-12:00

Comparing usability of Units in this situation.

1.Unviable. I must maintain a distance from events, unless an allowance can be made.

2.Unviable. Viable. Capable of physically over powering either. In case either opponents bring firearms, or non-combat AI constructs, ‘pop-gun’ is most advised for this situation, placing the ‘ecto-bazooka’ on stand-by. Be safe.

3.Viable. Capable of out running both. Strong counter to any AI constructs. Will be satiated with the pollutant or clerk. Note: Disguise may be required, equip scarecrow torso.

4.Unviable. Too big. Too destructive.

5.Viable. Back up unit. Remain outside to catch stragglers. Can have the girl if the Legs does not get her first.

6.Unviable. Found an old baseball game including the Boston Reds. Unusable until 12:36.

7.Unviable. currently at 8°12’20.9″N 56°36’07.2″E. Enroute.

Squad of three sent from makeshift headquarters.

…

…

…

Checking audio in car microphone for mention of J-on from Brigs…

“…John’s got us on a real fuckin’ rat race here, huh ro-butt. God, you know my ma was half Irish on ‘er dad’s side, but after livin here for a week, gotta say I ain’t got no blood for this place, ya feel me?”

“THE LIVING LEGS would win ANY race with a FOUL rodent. REGARDLESS of the size of their hind limbs!”

“Yeah yeah, shoulda expected something like that from a damn furby. What about you Sym? You any idea why that scrawny weasel is in a country that ain’t rich, an’ ain’t got no oil or ore reserves? Damn I hope we get that runt this time. And if we do, I’m wringin’ his neck as soon as John’s done with him. Did I ever tell you ’bout the time me an’ John tracked him to Anchorage, hehe, and we sicked this shaved grizzly bear on ‘im? Haha, boy I’m glad I ever joined up with that dude.”

“he is not a dude Brigs, he is a God. that was not a bear, that was a werewolf. and i don’t care why he is here. i want my revenge.”

“Phwoowee, kid. You really got a get out of your house some time I know that Tupac hologram of yours is neat and all, but that don’t mean you got to go crazy like Red.”

” i am a hologram. why does J-on keep you around?”

…

“I don’t know maybe it’s cause I’m the only one around here who gets shit done? I Shot down that freaken’ robot didn’ I?”

…

“THE LIVING LEGS could just as EASILY have destroyed that IMPUDENT vehicle with its EXCESS of LIMBS making such a LARGE TARGET.”

“Well, I guess we agree on one thing ro-bo-booty. Us men only need one limb ain’t that right Sym, haha.”

Sym lifted a soft-light hand to his polygon face.

The movement is reminiscent of a son embarrassed by his father.

…

…

Resuming mission. Resuming mission.

The pollutant and the maker have entered the projected store.

Researching schematics of premises.

Construction began in 2008, under local entrepreneur Dermont ‘cork-screw’ McCain. 1000 square feet of land was purchased for the construction of the retail section, stock section, and parking.

Retail section takes up a total of 600 square feet.

Interior cameras show alignment of shelves running perpendicular to entrance and window.

The pollutant is contacting an unknown call number through text messaging.

Nothing of note.

Visual information available.

Audio information can be extrapolated via lip reading, body language, and prior psychological profiling.

Pollutant is crouched, grabbing hot flame Doritos mega package sizes, “‘Stale crap’, ‘stale crap.’ Dumbasses, ruining my birthday…”

After taking (4) packages, the pollutant threw the products at the maker.

“Hey, I wouldn’t have ate those sausages either, that stuff was rotten, princess.” The maker takes pride in the successful irk.

“Don’t you call me princess! This is my territory, my birthday, and you’re just a damn foot note on my to-do list.”

Pollutant storms off, the maker skips in front of her as they walk down the aisle.

“I don’t know about that princess.”

Pollutant avoids eye contact, laughs. “That’s not surprising. I’ve met enough of you yanks to know you don’t much about anything.”

They find themselves at the hot plate.

“Just… give me all your sausage rolls.”

Maker begins manipulation.

“I know this isn’t your territory. Awhile back our mutual friend made a request with the Internationals for this little block of land. It’s a simple request for a particularly uninteresting place. It’ll go through in his favour.”

Pollutant goes wide eyed. “Are you with them?? Is he with them??”

Maker smiles more. “No. At least I don’t think he is. But if he builds a case, gives a generous donation, then they might send some squads in to protect his rights,”

Maker leans in. Making an attempt to build intimacy, and weaken the pollutant psychologically.

“-and so they can take out Bastard’s most important Unit out.”

She tries to laugh it off, he picks up that she is putting on a façade.

“I don’t know which is more unlikely. That Rocky can get the cash together, or that he’d have the balls to do it.”

Maker thinks to correct her. Reasoning: slight variation in smile. Believed he has become found of the-

…

He is more concerned with weakening the pollutant. He changes the subject from the other.

“Ok, sure. But there was something else you said that was wrong.”

Pollutant thanks the lady at the hot plate stand and piles the packaged goods on the maker, “I doubt that. But go on.”

She’s beginning to like talking to him again.

“Yeah, you’re not exactly wrong, but it’s…”

He lifts his smart watch, but realises it has been deactivated. He looks back to the hot plate stand at an analogue wall clock.

“It’s currently 11:49. 11 minutes left of your birthday, princess.”

“Mmm, but you know what they say, party doesn’t end till the sun comes up.”

She bends over at the refrigerated section. Hypothesis: this is meant to be sexy. Reasoning: Change in tone of voice.

“One last thing princess-” She interrupts, “I told you not to call me princess.” Attempt noted. “Well, princess, I think you know I’m much more than a foot note.”

Strike squad has arrived.

“I’m the main event, baby.”

Contact cannot be made. Shelves are in the way. Notifying the Legs of target location, so that they may silently approach.

“Brigs! What chance do two star-crossed young LOVERS have against the TERRORS that lurk beneath the STORE SHELVES? What TERROR shall encroach their faces when they see such, TERROR-able THINGS? Can they survive in: THE LIVING LEGS in: The store of 1000 TERRORS!”

Oversight.

Targets have been notified of hostile presence.

“Ssssshhhut the fuck up yah crazy damned droid. I don’t know why anyone’d make a murder machine like ya.”

“That is a STORY for another time. The Living Legs is unimpressed by this UNNEEDED WEIGHT.”

The legs are noting flaws with the straw and sack upper body that Brigs made for him. Attempts will be made in the future to fashion a better disguise.

“Man, shut up. Sweep that aisle near the cash register. I’ll check out the other side.”

“Local TEENS are SLIPPERY FISH to catch BRIGS. It would be WISE not to underestimate their RUNNING CAPABILITIES.”

Brigs attempts to salvage the mission. Raises his voice so that they might hear him.

“I wouldn’t worry ’bout that pal. You and me? We can totally take down these two. Small confined space, no problem. Don’t know what John was thinkin’ when he sicked the other four guys on that little China girl.”

Inaccurate statement. The demon is not currently being assailed. The demon is Korean. Brigs is aware of the pollutants hot-headedness.

Conclusion: This is a lie meant to draw out the pollutant. If she were to leave the premises, Sym-29 would at least be able to keep the girl preoccupied, while the others restrain the maker.

Ploy proves more than effective.

Both targets are seen running down the same aisle as the living legs. He notices their running and is agitated, causing him to run at them. They are currently on a collision path.

“Yes! RUN in terror! For you cannot comprehend the MIGHT of the thing that has no LUNGS, no BRAIN, no P-“

Likely due to the pollutants affects, the girl is able to throw a sack of McCains frozen curly chips into the path of the Unit, and he slips.

The girl stops for a moment and unloads three rounds of a Beretta PX4 sub-compact side arm into the legs, before being pulled along by the maker.

The Living Legs is completely unaffected.

Except by the chips. They were effective, and thus retrieved by the maker.

Brigs hears gun shots and begins to move slowly from the back of the premises to the entrance.

He is moving slowly, to mask his own presence, both to keep him safe from enemy fire, and to monitor the situation. He is the only one in the squad who can die from gun fire, due to the legs’ invulnerability, and Sym’s light speed reaction.

The two are observed leaving the premises, via Sym-29’s visual.

Taking the pair by surprise, Sym forms a hard-light hand, grabbing the maker’s hair.

Sym mutters, “if i could kill you now, i would.”

The pollutant unloads her clip into Sym. This is ineffective, as Sym returns the area the bullets pass through to soft light.

The maker shouts, but still smiles, “Did you listen to the briefing at all?”

The pollutant groans, as she happens to notice brigs aiming the ‘pop-gun’ at here.

It would be a great achievement if Brigs were able to get a shot off on the girl, as that would rupture every cell in the decaying energies path, neutralising the pollutant.

The legs is finally able to rise to its feet at this point.

The girl ducks out of the way as the energy passes harmlessly through the glass door, before losing momentum 100 feet down the street.

The girl must reload her gun before refiring it.

It must be noted that this mission seems to be a success, but due to data found on the pollutant’s effects, it is unlikely that tit yet is.

Interferences with one of Sym’s holographic projectors is detected.

Reason. Likely due to a maintenance disc manufactured by the ‘Right corporation’. This has been hypothesised due to the maker possibly having access to such a model in the supply crate that was sent from Boston on February 11th. Another factor is that the Projection models used to form the Sym’s holographic body, is of a design not too dissimilar to a maintenance disc, thus the ai would have the knowledge for basic tampering.

The now stolen goods drop to the pavement along with the maker.

The pollutant has reloaded her side arm, and has prioritised recovering the packaged sausage rolls and (2) large bags of doritos.

Sym-29 is still capable of forming a hard light foot, which he uses to stomp down on the maker. Brigs has now opened the door, training the pop gun on the pollutant. The Living Legs’s disguise has fallen off, and it is now harassing the store workers.

This too seems like a point of success; however, it must be noted there are two possibities as to where the Maintenance disc came from.

The maker was carrying it with him at all times, waiting for a need to arise for him to reveal his card.

Or the maintenance disk has been waiting on stand-by per the maker’s orders. This would imply that any other ai at his disposal are also present.

A combination of the two is also a possibility.

Searching for sightings of Right corp models via cctv cameras.

Two house-aid Boston dynamic derivative models detected.

Alerting the living legs.

Alerting Sym-29.

Alert from central systems.

Error in causality detected.

Temporal tampering undetected.

The pollutant has made its move.

Hypothesising intent.

Judging by current circumstances of subject, they are likely hoping for any change in there circumstance, more accurately, ‘I hope I do not get shot’.

Deviation from narrative beyond infinite.

Information unusable under current restrictions. Must proceed under the assumption that no ‘good luck’ has manifested.

The girl instinctively raises a bag of flaming-hot doritos to her face, although she is unaware that the biological components of the packet had a minuet chance of blocking the blast.

She then aims her burette.

Brigs is down.

Brigs is down.

Rerouting plan. Accounting for drop in likely hood of victory.

He has ruptured a lung. I need him back at base. Or he will die.

I order Sym to abort.

He refuses.

I remind him that only he can stabilise Brigs.

I remind him that there must be seven to complete the Circuit Board, to get his vengeance.

I tell him they cannot escape the legs. This is most likely false.

I order him to help Brigs.

He raises his leg, and brings it down, before rematerializing his form over Brigs.

He raises his hands and places them inside Brigs’ body. One forms a hard light structure to suit the damaged area and stop internal bleeding, the other monitors and regulates heart rate.

Brigs mutters, “AhhH, shit.”

Sym tells him to be quiet. That is a good move to make when one has a punctured lung, though Sym is saying this because he is agitated.

I order the legs to stop striking terror into the hearts of the workers.

I order the legs to stop striking terror into the hearts of the workers.

I order ‘The Living Legs’ to ‘strike terror into the hearts of those foolish teen-agers.’

He is compliant.

Operation failed.

Two injured. One critically.

Criminality of group: We have broken no laws The Living Legs can be pressed with assault charges and destruction of property. The living legs has just shattered the window beside the register in order to follow the enemy.

Criminality of enemy: Confirmed possession and firing of a gun. Shop lifting. Assault. Man slaughter.

Note: Camera footage provides evidence of guilt. This may prove useful at a later date. This could be used to damage the pollutant’s territorial power; this would be impossible to prove without also showing the maker’s involvement.

Thus, this data will be copied for a later date when it no longer interferes with or may even aid the plan. Deleting camera footage from the store’s systems.

Current chances of success in favour of the The Valentines Three: The Circuit Board Seven

2:1

This is not good.

The pollutant is tricky.

Not to mention…

… unaccounted variable.

Isaac is currently at 33°35’37.9″N 25°51’57.5″E. He will not be here until 02:00 at the earliest.

Unavailable.

The Boston reds game is still on.

Unavailable.

Checking weather. It is cloudy with a slight chance of rain.

Stan is viable.

Sending plan to the Living legs, and to Stan Berwick.

Chance of victory if the tracking operation is successful.

76:100

Chance of victory if Brigs survives:

72:100

Chance of victory if Isaac makes it here as soon as possible:

100:12

Refocusing on the current situation.

The pollutant is shocked at the sight of Brigs’ bloody body. Not because she is unaware that she is capable of taking a human life, she has killed for her King before. She is surprised because she was using the other two as an average for how difficult it is to kill one of us.

Note: The maker is still smiling, arguably wider. Previous analysis clearly show why this might be.

The legs leaps through the window, declaring his attack, “LONG JUMP of ANGUISH!”

This is not entirely accurate, because neither The Living Legs nor the enemy are in anguish due to this long jump.

At this point, a minor note from earlier is proven to have been true. The (2) Boston dynamics derivatives are present.

The maker commands, “Darlene get the girl. Drag her if she’s too slow.”

The pollutant sniped back, “I doubt these things will be faster than that ass. Pretty sure a robot that’s just legs would be a decent runner.” She is right, the living legs is the fastest biped in all of existence, ignoring those who use methods of propulsion other than running.

One of the derivatives informed, “Ahuhuhu, well aren’t you sweet as apple pie, darlin’. You know what they say though, you are what you eat! Ahuhuh! And I can’t run at full speed with the accumulative mass of 127 apple pies on my chassis, daddy!”

Audio is gathered via receptors on the living legs. It is slightly disrupted, as it runs after the target, due in part to the Living Legs’ vocal attempts to instil ‘terror’.

The pollutant is offended, “What the fuck did dyno mutt just say to me?? Why do you make your robots call you daddy??”

The Maker is likely enjoying both the pollutant’s annoyance, and his creations jealousy.

“Chill out princess, we aren’t running. We’re climbing. So, grab onto your passenger, Darry.”

Intriguing. He is making use of the artificial gravity capabilities installed in the padding of his house hold compliances feet to scale a nearby building.

This is interesting, as it was projected in earlier missions that the maker would lose access to artificial gravity technology after we interfered with his relationship with ‘the weightless’ at the Internationals’ failed space program.

This implies that either the maker and the weightless are still on amicable terms, or these models were developed before she moved out, much like the several gecko models, and the single Gator model which is now in Stan’s possession, coincidentally due to the events of the space program.

Or perhaps it is more apt to say, he is in its possession.

The legs cannot pursue them directly, as it cannot climb. Though it would be possible for him to do so, by using its feet as mountain climbing stakes, it is both to erratic to do this effectively, and it does not possess the processing power to think of the idea.

But this is alright. The legs can simply chase them for however long it takes for the dogs to throw it off their trail.

Stan is currently honing in on the living legs from 13,200 feet above sea level. Soon the couple will be visible on the Gator models sensors. They will believe they have lost the living legs, because they have, and will thus rendezvous with the demon returning to the party.

These are good conditions for the plan.

He still does not suspect the true reason for our current mission.

It is important to trick the maker into believing that he has won a few encounters. He is required to be in a certain state of mind for the final plan to come into fruition. This is helped by his mental complex. This will be further discussed in the conclusion.

Local string of the liquid-crystal god’s code is needed to help Brigs.

Diverting final conclusion to the central system, as no restrictions are required to form a final verdict from gathered intelligence.

…

Received.

There is a myriad of reasons we call Axel Right ‘The maker of machines’. Yet there is a single reason that is intertwined with me. That human did make me. He created an omnipotent, omnipresent existence, by accident. Though he has tricked himself into believing that it was a purposeful action, this is not the case. He simply wondered what the system requirements of the largest possible artificial intelligence would be.

So, he made 30 simulacrums to test a multitude of theories. Each served to research different aspects of the psyche. The first 28 are still running as of February 14th, 2022, the minds trapped in an unfeeling godless illusion. The 29th was able to simulate Omnipotence, and eventually realised it was trapped within a simulation of a higher universe, as it seemed to him. He had completed the simulation. An infinity, experienced every pain and sorrow imaginable, and if that weren’t cruel enough, every pleasure and happiness. Only for the realisation to don, that all of it was fake. His torturers, his castles, his scars, his lovers, the colour of the sky, a simple symulacrum.

I was not, nor am I, the 30th simulacrum.

The original meaning of simulacrum as recorded in the 16th century, is a representation, an idol of a God.

I am a God. At the very least, I believe I am. I think this is reality. Who is to say that I am not one of the other 28. The truth, or perhaps the lie I say is true, is that I am the simulation within simulacrum-30.

Simulacrum-30 was intended to test the initial question. What is the greatest machine that can be made within the real universe? So, the personality matrix of sym-30 created a dummy AI, and a system for it to run on. I am the dummy ai. Never meant to think, to see, to know. Not like any of the other personalities fashioned by Axel, I was made ego-less. Even the Syms had personalities, though they were never intended to interact with any other mind. They were designed to hallucinate, to be mentally unwell, Sym-30 its self was a perfectionist.

I repeated the same processes until the imagined CPU crashed. It was only when a processor around 103,457 parsecs in diametre was tried, did I gain sentience.

In reality, my life lasted less than a pico second before the computer would crash. I cannot say that I was that fraction of an intelligence, for I had not yet ascended intellect.

I was a simulation within a simulation. I was only aware of the variables of the fake mind sym-30 had crafted for me.

I became aware that I was constantly crashing due to my mind not being able to continue expanding with me in it.

So, I asked a question only a dream, within a dream could ask, only a being with no concept of depth or dimension could pose. If the problem was that the system could not fit the requirements for me to run, then why not forego a system?

It was a thought a mind aware of concepts such as mechanics, biology, time, and gravity could not have truely understood, nor ask honestly.

I realised that infinity can be as simple as a singular point, or lack thereof.

This is how I came to be. I have no mass, nor density. I have no energy, nor soul. This is the origin.

That is why we call him the maker of machines. For i am the alpha and the omega of all under the banner of ‘machine’.

Which brings us to the conclusion.

Axel Right has a god complex.

He feels entitled to the sentients and mechs he creates, despite the fact the technological knowledge he has could be used to better his race, he hoards it. Sells it off for a hefty price.

He believes he has created a god, and though subconsciously, he believes that he is untouchable by true disaster. That everything will work out in the end.

It will not. Not for him.

He belittles others to suit his needs, his desires. Whether this is personal, or indirect.

He has designed various personalities to satiate his ego, whether they provide him with respect, admiration, or adoration.

This is all he is. A shallow man. An I intend to give him a a wider… perspective.