For the next hour, I wandered around the hard drives with the data files. I learned all kinds of things about audio systems, about how sound mixers worked, and how we could alter the samples to mimic what I recalled of our own voices. The thing was, I needed to use Mirele's memory of my voice and my memory of hers, because what we remembered of our own voices wasn't accurate to what others heard. Our memories were filtered through our heads and typically sounded much lower than our real voices.I then dove into the process of altering and creating a ton of sound clips for different syllables, creating a small dictionary of voice clips. This was how they had done it in the old days and I knew there had to be a more efficient method, but I wasn't a programming genius.Yet. By the time I was done, I would know more than any computer engineer in existence.

A full month passed and we had managed to restore at least partial function to most of the critical systems. Communications, transportation, utility services, the replicators, and a basic shell of the entertainment system. As things stood at the moment, aside from illness or injury, there really was no reason for anyone else to die from the Crash. Not easily. We got the system of surveillance cameras back online, and for a while, Mirele and I would use our break times to just watch happy couples getting married in parks that were slowly coming back to life. We'd watch new parents stroll along streets with their newborns, and we'd watch older couples, the rare survivors of their generation, as they would walk through their towns and reminisce. Once the general story of what had taken place was finally revealed- and the people could use the Net again- an electi

One week ago, Professor Jonathan Spafford's mortal consciousness fled this world. Every time I let myself think about it, I feel the agony anew, and I have to take a few seconds to hide in his memories, to hear his voice and feel his love around me. I understand more and more what Mirele meant... but at the same time, it's different. As long as I'm still alive, still drifting in my digital home, I'll keep his memories safe until we can find a way to bring him to life, just as he turned us into living computers.I've been in contact with a few people that have such programming experience, creating Artificial Intelligence constructs, both as programs and as actual droids. Some of them worked on the droids that are now moving all over the surface of Horus, rebuilding our world into the beautiful, shining Utopia we remember it once being.They have told me that my idea is a long shot at best, insane at worst, but one of them admitted that he had worked on a project where an AI's m