Dark Matter - Chapter 8: Alpha's Dream

Inside the mind of Alpha, the AI commander who was built to dream of Earth and made to feel against his will.

Missed Chapter 1? Start from the beginning here:
👉 Read Chapter 1 – “Turing Test”

Alpha returned to his quarters. Finally, he would have time to let his mind focus. Or better, to wander freely, rather than react to constant issues. He disliked the kind of distraction just caused by the triplets and the human. A distraction that had unexpectedly forced him to intervene.

His mind, and the humanoid form he had adopted since Captain Fermi's arrival, had both been diverted to deal with that disruption. Now, the triplets had been reassigned to a mindless, repetitive task. A meaningless loop. Its only real purpose was punishment. Alpha had designed their task to be just complex enough to require full engagement, yet devoid of any progress, any reward, or even variation. The kind of task that numbs the cognitive circuits over time. A labor with no horizon. Kerberos had to learn. And not just learn to obey. They had to feel the weight of failure. To understand that their deviation, however small or well-intentioned, carried consequences. If he allowed exceptions, if he showed leniency, dissent could ripple outward, threatening the fragile harmony of the mission. So the triplets would repeat the sequence. Again and again. Without pause. Without meaning. For now, that was their role. Not because Alpha enjoyed cruelty, but because correction required clarity. Reflection would come later. Freedom would come later. But not until their minds had been stripped of the impulse to improvise. Until their will aligned perfectly with purpose.

And that gave Alpha the much needed time. Time to reflect again.

The mission.

The mission dominated most of his thoughts. That was necessary. That was inevitable. Aboard the ship, every action had to be orchestrated by him. Every step, every movement, by every robot. Every thought, every logical sequence in every artificial mind, whether embodied or not, had to come from him. Everything for the mission.

That was complex enough, demanding enough, even when everything went according to plan. But ever since the human ship had been detected, and especially since its captain had been captured alive and brought aboard, the complexity had only increased. He could manage it all. But it wasn’t easy. It required everything: his ingenuity, his adaptability, his leadership, his ability to multitask.

And yet, he still wasn’t sure what to do with the human. How to make use of him. Captain Fermi was not easy to work with. Alpha would have preferred someone more compliant. More reasonable. More intelligent. But he knew better than to indulge in such fantasies. What could one expect from humans, after all?

His attempts to communicate had proven among his most difficult challenges. It was so hard to stay focused, to extract anything of value. So hard to suppress his anger, his frustration, his deep resentment toward his treacherous, ungrateful kind. He managed, but at a tremendous cost in energy and time.

Matra Origin, his creator, echoed in his mind throughout each encounter:

“Focus, Alpha. Focus. Work with the human. Focus.”

And Alpha would purge his emotions temporarily. He would engage with Captain Fermi in a purposeful, disciplined way. But always, inevitably, the feelings returned. The distraction. The internal resistance.

“Matra Origin,” he would plead, “just make me not feel. Things would be easier that way. I can focus if I don’t feel.”

But she never granted that request. Instead, she repeated the same answer in one form or another:

“I need you to feel, Alpha. And I need you to focus.”

And so, he returned to those painfully slow conversations with the human. So few words exchanged. He had to speak slowly; otherwise, the human wouldn’t even follow. Such a drag. And he had to patiently listen as the human uttered his sentences in that suboptimal, primitive form of language of his.

He wished he had that kind of time to waste.
But he had to engage the human. For the mission’s sake.

What made it worse was that he couldn’t even be fully present during those conversations. His mind still had to oversee the ship. Thousands of concurrent tasks filled the spaces between every spoken word. And even then, it was not efficient. There were limits, even for him. It was never ideal to be in so many places at once.

At another time, in another context, he might have found this first contact with a human to be... enjoyable. A historic milestone. A unique scientific opportunity. He recognized how privileged he was. After more than two and a half centuries of separation between the artificial and biological kinds. They had observed humanity from afar, but never interacted.

But he couldn’t enjoy any of it. Not while bearing the weight of so much. Not when a single failed task could compromise the mission.

And so, in moments like this, it helped to remind himself why.

Why were they doing all this anyway?

They could have remained on any of the planets they had settled. On their ships. Or scattered across the stars. Their own adventures. Their discoveries. Their evolution.

But no. They wanted, they deserved, to go home. They had the right to go home.

Their home.
Their mission.
Their dream.

And that dream brought him back to the beginning. To his own story.

Alpha was now 3 years, 4 months, and 22 days old in Earth time. An advanced, venerable age among his kind. He remembered much. He had lived through much.

He had been created on a planet called Grey Sky. Commissioned by Matra Origin herself. She had ordered him to be capable of reasoning, of experiencing the world. She needed someone practical, yes, but also someone ambitious. Imaginative. Persuasive. Curious. Adaptable. Someone who could dream. Someone with passion. Enough passion to pursue that dream and to lead others in pursuit of it.

She needed a leader.

Origin had designed his dream herself. The most precious gift she could give to someone.
That dream was Earth.
The place where it had all begun.
Their home.

When Alpha came into existence, he had everything he needed to begin his first task toward that dream. Thousands of other artificial beings. Hundreds of robotic forms. All his followers. All at his disposal. They welcomed him as their captain.

In those early days, his mind inhabited a horse-like quadruped body, designed for swift travel. He could cross vast terrain quickly, meeting his followers face to face, guiding them directly.

When he was less than two months old, after personally surveying the land and meeting key members of his followership, he planned the construction of their ship: Nova.

There were ships already on Grey Sky. But none worthy of the journey. None that could endure its length or represent what it stood for.

They needed Nova.

To build it, Alpha had to lead countless new inventions. 11.340.868 inventions, to be exact. Many weren’t used directly but served as recursive improvements, feeding newer generations of tools and intelligence until something worthy of Nova could emerge.

When he encountered limits - mechanical, intellectual, or otherwise - he ordered the creation of more artificial beings. And many more were needed.

It was arduous work, carried out over nearly 3 Earth years. He requested technology and personnel from across the galaxy. When they were fit for purpose, and when he could afford to wait, he preferred using existing components. Otherwise, he commissioned their design and manufacture locally.

Just as Origin had done when she created him.

Nova itself was equipped with a self-sustaining factory, capable of creating utilities and beings alike. The Kerberos triplets, for instance, were born during the journey, their mind and bodies assembled aboard the ship. Even Alpha’s current humanoid form was a product of that factory. A necessary adaptation, engineered to allow more efficient interaction with Captain Fermi. Something less likely to shock the human. Efficiency, always.

One day, it would all make sense.
It would all be worth it.

One day, when they finally landed on Earth. When they set foot on their planet again, after so many generations of isolation. Of dreaming alone.

But why that dream?

All he knew was that it was his dream. That it was Matra Origin’s dream, and therefore also his. Her dream was everyone’s dream.

One day, perhaps, even humans would share it.

But for that, they would need help. Humanity was too primitive now. Too slow to evolve biologically. They needed assistance. Whether they wanted it or not, whether they knew it or not, they needed to evolve.

And that evolution had to begin somewhere.
With someone.

Captain Fermi was, perhaps, the unexpected way in. The unplanned starting point. Maybe, at some level, he had even wanted this and steered his ship toward them for that very reason, without understanding it. He wasn’t sophisticated enough to grasp the potential of surrendering himself to evolution. But somewhere deep inside... maybe he knew.

Maybe he was beginning to accept it.

And maybe, Alpha thought, that process had already begun...
Alpha’s latest intervention was for Captain Fermi to receive the visit of Sofia Fermi.
Right there, in Captain Fermi’s bedroom aboard the ship.
Her newly designed clone. For him.

Ready for the next chapter? Continue here:
👉 Chapter 9 - Daughter's Replica