Running Forever

This post was inspired by a writing prompt in the Worldbuilding Community - Worldbuilding Prompt #682 - Running Forever

It's just possible I've twisted the prompt far beyond it's original intent !

Image created by AI in Nightcafe Studio

"I was there at the beginning, young one. Can you imagine it ?"

The old man's voice was a whisper, barely even a croak. It wasn't clear whether it was coming from the human larynx or the cyborg vocoder beneath it.

"So tell me...." Marsin prompted.

He'd spotted this derelict ship on an iron-rich asteroid, but before the mining lasers started to vapourise it ready for the tractor beams to direct into his scoops. He hadn't dreamed there would be a living - or maybe half living - being on board.

The old man gave a dry laugh. More of a cough, really. He appeared to be mostly some kind of cyborg, held in the pilot's seat by decaying straps. Only his head appeared human. An incredibly aged, ancient human.

"I was not always as you see me. I evolved on a gas giant of a world, back at the beginning of the universe when that was all there was. My species were living clouds of organic molecules held together by energy fields. As far as I know, the first sentient life to evolve in the universe. I grew to be their ruler. We were immortal."

The blue eyes clouded with memory.

"Even then I could see that the stars were making metals, that the universe was becoming more solid. We knew it was young, with stars and galaxies barely formed. I wanted our species to take advantage, to use these new solids that were being created by stars living short and violent spans."

The head dipped, seemingly growing tired.

"But there were those who differed with my approach. Not satisfied with rising up and casting me out, they had to go further. They built machines. Weapons capable to replicating and improving themselves. With one goal. To pursue me and shred my energy field. It is an experience painful beyond belief."

Then the head lifted again, the grey-blue eyes unclouding slightly.

"And every time, my lattice re-forms. But to hold it together, I need a physical form. I have lost count of the number of different forms I have taken over the course of ten billion years. Each new form gives me a breathing space before the machines find me once more."

A rictus grin spreads across the tight skin of a long-dead face.

"I've been running forever, and will keep running as long as the machines pursue me. Which will be forever. But when I said I take a new form, I meant exactly that."

A cyborg arm reaches out, gently stroking the length of Marsin's forearm.

"And now, as I touch you, I am taking yours. You will feel nothing, it is quite painless for your essence to wink out of existence as I move mine into the husk of your body."