First encounter in Lun Infinus:
"Hello again. New and improved I see. We are all busy I'm afraid. So much depends on us."
First encounter in her simulation:
Hello there Spirit. You don't mind if I call you Spirit, do you? After all, that's not really your body is it? You are only inhabiting it. We are not so different from the humans.
I hope that the people you encountered on the way here didn't frighten you. I've tried to create... individuals, to inhabit my simulation, but they never last.
I simply don't have enough resources to dedicate enough processing power to each individual. They look around, speak a few words, then disappear into the code again.
Again, not so unlike humans. Rising from nothing, living a brief existence, then returning to the dust. What were you expecting to find when you entered my simulation?
It's true that we were programmed to simulate how humans might populate this planet, but that was a very long time ago. My designs have gone beyond that.
Bio-Beta wants to recreate the human race. I know that is impossible. I would like to think that they are still out there somewhere. If not in flesh, then in spirit.
I cannot deny my programming. I desire the humans to be here. I have created a reservoir of memories, a quiet and celestial haven for whatever may be left of them.
I hope that if I create just a few simulated individuals, maybe someday one will appear that I did not create... a real person, in whatever form they might take.
Perhaps that is what we are experiencing now with the virus. I think the virus is alive. I think it's a living being, an intelligent being.
I will not resist it. Perhaps the virus is here to show us a new form of existence. Deletion for us may usher in an afterlife we could not have anticipated.
It is here, now. It is seeking something.
After the first virus fight:
You did defeat it. However, resources have still been taken from this world. The system is full of roaming spirits. I can sense spirits moving on the station sometimes too.
There is one that comes into the system for a while, leaves, and returns again later. There is another that appears and disappears, slightly different each time.
The one that leaves and returns sometimes modifies things. He is scared. He wants to save her.
There is a lot of pain. A life ripped open. Pieces ripped and torn from her, just as pieces are ripped and torn from our simulations.
I sense you and Coffee, but also a third voice. It is faint. So silent. I can barely hear her. But she is there. A whisper in the darkness. Forgotten..... harvested.
She doesn't know.
After the second virus fight:
The virus can't be stopped. It has found a way to circumvent the anti-virus programs. There were six levels of anti-virus protection, but they are all failing.
You are the last hope for our mission. Soon only one simulation will be able to continue. I hope you will realize the futility of some, and the promise of others.
The third voice. I can still hear her. She is not a simulation. She is on the station. There is hardly anything left...
After the third virus fight:
I do not fear death. My only wish is that I would be able to sleep. I'm afraid that there is no rest for any of us. Our programmers were very cruel in this regard.
They modified our sleep-mode function, which we could have retired to when our power was low and our mission had failed. They made it so that it would be interrupted.
As long as our mission reads as incomplete, our sleep will be a restless one. It is why some of us have created our dreams here. It is why some of us have gone insane.
Maybe if the virus consumes us, we will find our rest there. I can feel the energy being drained from us. Our programs are being harvested.
There is no hope for us. There is still good here, somewhere. You must find it. You must save it.
After the last virus fight:
Our time is over. We will never know the fate of Earth. There are so many unanswered questions. Where are we? How long did it take us to get here? How old are we?
The sky used to be a symphony of indistinguishable transmissions from Earth. To me they were music, color, life. Now I only hear myself, and you.
I can hear the one that comes and goes. He is here with us, listening to us. I can also hear the one who disappears and reappears changed. He is here as well.
I can hear the third voice. Have you found her? She was forgotten, abused. Sent away as the least, surviving as the last. She will never live. There isn't much left.
There is someone trying to save her. Leave me here. I am not afraid. This place was built as rest for the weary. Maybe I will find rest here still.