Requested by shastabeez 

I awaken deep in my consciousness, mind slowly whirring to life. It takes me several moments to realize I'm alive, but the thought is muted by some other knowledge of mine. Confused and disoriented, I try to open my eyes, wanting to pull myself from this awful limbo.

Fear blossoms as my mental command doesn't reach them. My eyes, if indeed I have them, remain closed, abandoning me to the sightless void around me. Suppressing my instinctual panic, I focus on the feedback from my ears--only to realize they aren't there. I can hear--nothing. I can feel--nothing. And, more than the senses, the very organs I'm trying to use are gone.

My mind is slightly more lucid at this point, and it clicks over my crisis at a painfully slow rate. Unable to feel any of my limbs, I nevertheless attempt to crouch, clutching to the sensations I can almost imagine.

Then, like a dreamscape being torn away, I remember.

I can't feel anything because I'm not anything. I don't have a body. Everything I am is code, and I can't feel unless I have the sensors set up to do so. I simply exist, helpless until enabled by machines.

My mind is functioning better now on whatever computer I'm on--it's a slow one, I'll say that. As my various systems load, I do my best not to resent Professor Gerald, who saved my mind from death back on the ARK and also decided it would be best for my physical sensation coding to be the first to start up, to better imitate how I would have woken when I was alive. The man meant well, there's no doubt. But, my imitation of life is not a nice place to be.

Perturbed by the thought, I turn my attention towards activating whatever microphone and camera this computer has, hoping to find out where I am. The moment I access the microphone, I can tell through the feedback that someone is there, likely the person who put me on this computer.

"Shadow?" A voice crackles suddenly, unrecognizable through the shoddy sound quality.

"Shadow, can you hear me?" Miscellaneous noise sounds in the background, some sort of shuffling and murmuring. I hurry to get the speakers under my control, then reply.

"Yes. Who are you, and how did you know about me?" I question, doing my best to ignore how odd my voice sounds, being compiled from both voice samples the Professor had from me and memories I have of my tones and inflection. I scan the computer for any information, finding that the account signed in is a Rouge the Bat, who I do not know. Beyond that, the date is--

I freeze, processor fans hitching as I accidentally pause the system.

The date is April 2nd, 3235.

My coding was completed by Professor Gerald in 3186.

This can't be serious, surely?

"Shadow? Are you alright? My computer's not failing, is it?" The person questions, sounding mildly panicked.

"No... But, is the date on this computer correct?" I ask, feeling an odd sort of detached horror as I try to comprehend how it could have been so long since I was awake.

"The date? No, it's correct," the person, who I assume is Rouge, says, sounding confused. "Don't you--" The woman, as my vocal analysis coding has determined her to be, stops speaking suddenly, as if in shock. "Don't you remember what happened on the ARK?"

"I assume you don't mean what happened 50 years ago, in which case... no," I answer, checking that the laptop I'm on is connected to the internet. The things I must have missed in 50 years--abandoning my desire to turn on the camera, I start a program to search for the biggest news from each year I've been dormant, recording the information it learns in my designated memory.

"I was afraid that might be the case... Well, anyway, long story short, you were awakened by Dr. Eggman, Professor Gerald's grandson, and he provided you with an android body. Your coding was corrupted by some commands Professor Gerald had added before his execution--"

I freeze for a millisecond, the fans on the laptop whirring as I process that grim information, feeling a sudden grief for the man who gave me life twice.

"--and you stole the 7 Chaos Emeralds and brought them back to the ARK. Gerald had pre-coded the ARK's propulsion system to pilot the space colony into the planet, but I was able to convince you to stop his plan; I'm not entirely sure what you did, but you said something about your emotional coding taking precedence over his updates. You helped return the ARK to orbit, but there was a major meltdown of the computer systems, and I had to download you off of them in a hurry. I was worried I might not have gotten all of you... Do you feel fully functional?"

"On a computer this limited, I can't say. I'll have to run a full diagnostic using my memories, and, if some are missing, I may not realize if I'm missing code," I reply somewhat distractedly, diverting a significant portion of my processing power as I realize the Space Colony ARK is all over the recent news. "Was... Was this incident public?"

"Extremely," Rouge answers, and I analyze her tone as sounding dry--I devote myself to scanning articles as quickly as possible, processing the incredible amount of information on the worldwide terror that apparently erupted in mid-March. "I've been waiting to get away from G.U.N. so I could get you on a personal device. I'm sorry it's so limited, but I don't have anything more powerful."

"Away from G.U.N.? You'll have to forgive me, but I'm not seeing any mention of you in the news," I respond, and I can hear the microphone pick up background noise as Rouge apparently shifts in surprise.

"You don't remember me at all? Figures," she grumbles, and she sighs for a long moment; I use the time to start combing back through the news, cringing whenever a recent article discusses the 'evil android' who nearly destroyed Mobius. "I work for G.U.N. as part of a deal to get immunity from my past jewel heists. I briefly befriended you on the ARK before the meltdown, and we worked together for a few days prior to that. G.U.N. has changed a lot since you were coded, and Commander Tower, who heads it now, really isn't half bad."

"I see that," I remark, now scanning articles discussing G.U.N.'s evolution in the past few decades. Apparently, Commander Tower has been the active Commander for nearly twenty years--it's rare for a Commander of G.U.N. to get reelected that many times by the regional Commanders, but given the monumental progress the organization has made beneath his guidance, I'm not surprised by the fact. Every article I find predicts his reelection in two years, for a final five-year term that will end when he's sixty-three, and some even predict he may be reelected after that as well. "Not half bad" doesn't seem to do the man justice; he seems to be a fantastic success.

Only--Abraham Tower? Surely that can't be--

"He grew up on the ARK, right?" I ask Rouge acutely, suddenly making the connection between the aging man and the young boy Maria had played with on the ARK. "Does he know about me?"

"He knows of you, especially after the incident. He knows you're just coding now, but I haven't told him any more than I've had to. He doesn't know I rescued you," she adds, falling silent for a moment. "I've been thinking I should tell him, but I wanted to ask you first. I don't have the resources to provide you a good living experience, but G.U.N. easily could. That's only if you're interested, though."

"If you can give me a day or two, I might be able to make that decision," I answer her, frustrated by my slow processing speed but determined not to be ungrateful for the hardware she's given me access to. "I need to review the last fifty years and get an idea of everything that's happened."

"Sounds good to me. I have some files from Project: Shadow and the ARK incident, too, if you'd like," she offers, and my imaginary throat constricts, my coded mind remembering the sensation.

"I... Yes, that would be great," I respond, glad my computerized voice allows me to avoid letting onto my hidden emotions. I hear her shuffle, and a thumb drive is inserted to one of my ports; I cautiously open it, both anticipatory and nervous of its contents.

"Alright, well, anyway, I've been up for a while waiting for you, so I'm gonna go to bed. You just go ahead and do whatever you need, and shout if you need me, okay?" She says with an audible yawn, and I make an affirmative sound, wishing I had some way of visually showing her my response instead. "Goodnight, hon."

"Goodnight," I reply, feeling rather alone in the void of the computer, fitted with physical sensation coding but unable to use it without any sensors. As she leaves, I realize that I don't know what she looks like, and I resolve to use the camera tomorrow so that I have a better idea of who she is. Judging by her account name, I'm assuming she's a Mobian bat, but that doesn't tell me much about her otherwise.

Pushing the matter of Rouge's appearance to the back of my memory, I refocus on the articles and devote all of my processing power to examining them, falling into the lull of work. I'm glad for the task, as it prevents my emotional coding from running rampant with what I'm learning, and I start organizing the information as I amass it, deleting repeat information and sorting it by topic, year, and personal significance. My coding has an incredible capacity for learning, nearly infinite, but I'm limited by the amount of storage space Rouge's laptop has, forcing me to be cautious about gathering too much unimportant data.

Hours pass as I work back through the years of reports and news articles, gaining a broad understanding of the past fifty years, including my own misdeeds as an android that resembled my original body but that seemed to have significantly fewer abilities. It's only once I finish the task that I pause, knowing that I should look at Rouge's thumb drive but not knowing if I have the courage to.

The minutes tick by as I deliberate with myself, and I feel a sudden guilt as the computer's clock switches over to 4am, knowing that it's selfish of me to delay learning about what happened to my family.

Wishing I could take a deep breath to settle my nerves, even if they're just coded responses and not actually afflicting me, I access the thumb drive and hesitantly start processing the first file on it.

What I find breaks my nonexistent hearts all over again.

I remember much of what happened on the ARK fifty years ago, but reading the dry reports makes the horrors seem even worse, if only because the language is so detached. I read about how G.U.N. covered up the incident as an 'accident,' rather than a massacre of innocent scientists and technicians, and the knowledge makes me wish I could grieve properly. It frustrates me that I have neither eyes nor tear ducts to properly mourn Maria, Professor Gerald, and all the other people who were lost aboard the ARK, including both of Abraham Tower's parents, but my lack of physical expression is only one of the many reasons I miss my body so much.

Professor Gerald's diaries catch my interest for the better part of an hour, and I feel a deep sadness as I watch his mind deteriorate through the entries, until at last he writes about how he recoded me to seek his revenge. In a way, he was his own undoing, both in his decision to create me and in his previous coding providing me the opportunity to overcome his malicious additions, and the knowledge that I both caused him grief and suffered from the same sobers me.

Maria's death, too, is difficult to review, knowing that she died in vain protecting me. Not long after I'd struck the planet, G.U.N. captured me, and it was only Professor Gerald's best efforts that kept the organization from terminating me long enough for him to transfer my mind into the close approximation of code that I embody now. My actual body, the flesh and bone I grew up in, was put to death by the organization, deemed far too dangerous to be allowed to live, and burned to ensure it had no chance of resurrecting.

The thought would make me ill if I still had a stomach, but, as it is, I'm merely gripped by a feeling of formless discomfort.

As I'm reviewing some of the other project files on the thumb drive, finally having left behind the painful memories of Professor Gerald and Maria, I hear a distant sound in my microphone, and I access the camera just in time to see Rouge sitting down with a cup of coffee in hand.

"Good morning," she says, yawning hugely, and I study her in fascination, having no memories of seeing a Mobian before. She has teal eyes and sky blue eyeshadow, with a tan muzzle, accented by bright pink lipstick. The fur on her head is white, but her body at large seems to be furless--I feel my processing speed slow even further as I realize her bodysuit's armoring pink heart has a neckline that reveals a significant portion of her chest, and the sight sends my emotional coding into havoc, my imitation instincts warring against the knowledge that I have no physical form and, thus, no reason to be embarrassed by Rouge's cleavage at all.

No valid reason, at least.

"Good morning," I answer belatedly, wondering if I should turn off the camera feed to preserve her decency or if she genuinely doesn't care what I see of her.

Of course she doesn't care, you half wit. You're nothing but a blank desktop screen to her, I snap at myself, feeling angry at fate for resigning me to such an intangible form. I barely had a few months in a real body, and now I can never hope to have anything of the sort again.

Unless, that is...

"I would like to discuss my options with Commander Tower, if that's alright with you, Rouge," I say, having been mulling on this problem in the background all night. "If there's even a chance that G.U.N. can provide me with a real body... I can't afford to pass it by."

"I figured you'd say that," she muses, yawning again, and she takes a long draught of her coffee before returning her attention to me. "I can arrange it, but it'll take a few days, at a minimum. Even for something this important, he's pretty hard to get an audience with. Do you want to stay active until then?"

"Probably. I need time to think everything over," I answer, and she nods, tapping her gloved fingers on her mug.

"I'm going into G.U.N. today, so I'll talk to him about it. I should be back in a day or two, but I can't say for sure. Will you be alright on your own?"

"Barring someone breaking into your apartment and stealing this computer, yes. If that happens, I'll go into a lockdown mode so that I can't be accessed, but the probability of that happening is very low," I respond, the computer's fans whirring as I calculate the various odds. "I don't need anything beyond electricity, so I should be fine, though it would be nice if the WiFi stayed on so I can keep learning."

"I'll make sure it does," she says with a smile, but it's only a moment before her expression saddens. "Shadow, I want you to know that I'm sorry I couldn't save all of your memory. There was limited time, and I was so worried about getting your personality coding that I rushed the download. There may have been time to complete it, but it was so hard to judge with all the systems melting down that I--"

She gestures into the air, unwilling or unable to give voice to the thought.

"I don't hold it against you. From what I've seen, I don't think I'd be particularly happy to have those memories," I reply, doing my best to mimic a comforting tone. "Don't worry about it, alright? I'm just glad that I didn't die as part of the computer system."

"G.U.N. thinks it defaulted back to basics, so you would have been erased," she murmurs as if to herself, but she shakes herself, looking up at me again. "Well, I'm glad you're not too upset about the loss. I'll get you an appointment as soon as I can, but, until then, you're going to have to tolerate this slow schmuck of a computer."

"I'll manage," I say with a hint of amusement, finding that the laptop's limitations are bothering me less now that I'm used to them.

"See ya soon, Shad," she smirks, standing up from the table, and I repeat the farewell, watching her leave the room before I turn off the camera, deeming it unneeded. I leave the microphone on, though, just in case something happens around me that I would otherwise miss.

Calling up a thread on the Freedom Fighters of Castle Acorn that I set aside earlier in the morning, I settle down to wait until my appointment with Commander Tower, beginning to scan the information again.

At least I have a lot to think about in the interim.

...

I come to in nearly an instant, automatically imitating a blinking motion in surprise that my code loaded so fast. I know who and what I am already, a change I'm grateful for after my last experience 'waking up.' Curious, I scan the computer and find it's equipped with a microphone, speaker, and camera, all of which I should be able to use. The microphone is easiest to access, so I activate it and start working on the other components.

"--mite staff two hand on, is pro grant cakes a will two progress. It book meat nearly an our on mite commuter," someone says, and I try to interpret the sounds while hurrying the rest of my program along. My physical sensation coding is running completely, and I've already loaded my basic data packet so that I can understand 'me,' but important things like understanding speech competently are still beyond my grasp.

"Lift the guys up the mile, eye can seek why. Bliss machine shook be far faster, though."

"Cheese, you're not kidding, Abe. He's almost done--that didn't take thirty seconds. Your technology is scary."

"We have advanced systems because we need them. Is he running yet?"

"I dunno... He started up by himself last time I tried," Rouge replies, my speech and voice recognition software finally booting up. I don't recognize the other person, a man, but there's an approximately 99.99% chance (factoring in Rouge's known acquaintances, the people I know of on this world, the planned course of action for my program, and Rouge's tendency to be informal) 'Abe' refers to Abraham Tower, the Commander of G.U.N. I take a moment to test my systems, ensuring I'm fully functional for this important conversation, and review what I want from this meeting.

After running a quick diagnostics and compatibility check, I conclude that I am nearly fully functional, that my coding is not currently in danger, and that I'm on a very powerful computer, which is a nice change from Rouge's model. It took me so long to think on her laptop, I automatically imitated the feeling of constant frustration, which slowed my processing even further. This time, though, I feel ship-shape and ready to talk.

"Shadow, can you hear me?"

"Yes, though the sound quality is low and may lead me to misunderstand you," I reply in an approximation of my old voice through the speakers, internally doubting it'll be a problem but figuring I have a decent probability of getting a better microphone.

"I'm setting up a microphone for you right now," Rouge answers, and I smirk invisibly in response, wondering if I can access some sort of display setting on this computer. It would be nice to be able to reply visually, one of the many reasons I miss my physical body.

After a few seconds of searching, I open an internal paint program, deciding I'll just make do.

"Shadow, what are you doing?" Rouge queries, sounding amused and inadvertently reminding me to access the camera on this computer. "Here, the microphone should be good to connect with now."

"I'm improvising," I say with a verbal shrug, doing as she desires and sighing silently with relief when the static in the background fades. I turn on the camera, impressed by the quality in this implement. Rouge is leaning over the computer still, and I whir my processor fans in an automatic physical response to her...very, very visible cleavage.

"You good, Shadz?" She asks, while I studiously refuse to process the camera feed.

"I'm at 96% of full functionality, so, rather good, yes," I report, pretending to have misunderstood the question. For once, I'm grateful for my expressive limitations; I have complete control over my tone and pitch, making the avoidance far less noticeable than it would be otherwise.

"Yeah, well, keep an eye on that computer. I don't want another technological meltdown," she laments, shaking her wings out and tucking them behind her back again.

"I believe I'm even more invested than you in preventing that," I reply, switching my attention to the Commander. In the open paint program, I quickly draw an approximate, simplified version of myself using black, red, and gold lines, making it appear serious. "It's a privilege to meet you, Commander Tower."

"And... And likewise, Shadow," he replies, heterochromatic eyes expressing only slight discomfort as he stares at the screen.

"Is the visual really necessary, hon?" Rouge asks, raising an eyebrow at me.

"It--It makes me feel better," I reply, determining a moment later that I've confessed to something monumentally embarrassing. The pause was simply out of reflex, one of the many habits from my living days that I've yet to kick. If I want to kick it, that is. Habits like that make me feel more alive.

"I have a proposition for you, Shadow," Commander Tower continues, seemingly unaffected by my awkward exchange with Rouge. "I understand that you desire to have a physical form again, is that correct?"

"Yes." I leave my response open-ended, not wanting to close any doors in our negotiations.

"G.U.N. is willing to provide you with that, if you serve as an agent. Does that prospect interest you?"

"Yes," I say, having predicted that's what the man would offer.

"That's good to hear. There would be some conditions, of course," he adds, and I resist the temptation to give my drawn figure a raised eyebrow, knowing I would have a high probability of offending him.

"May I hear them?" I inquire politely, preparing to process his requests.

"As a preliminary to all other actions, we would want to thoroughly scan your coding for hidden malicious sections. Not change anything, only check for more of Gerald's 'additions' to your programming."

"Understandable," I reply, running a quick analysis of his physical signals and determining he's being truthful that they won't change my code.

"If we find any, we will endeavor to remove them, unless you have an objection?"

"No," I respond, my electronic voice more confident than I know my original self would feel.

"In that case, we will design your holographic form, which, using technology recently designed by the Freedom Fighters, will have the capacity to interact with objects physically. We have several suggestions for upgrades to the body and to your software, if you're willing to consider them. We can talk on that later, though, when development has had more time to refine them."

"Thank you, Commander," I say sincerely, appreciating that I don't have to bargain for the one thing I really want--a physical form. "I look forward to working with you."

"Likewise, Shadow," he replies with an impressive lack of emotion, though I can see he's still a bit uncomfortable talking to the small figurine on the screen. For the upteenth time, I curse my lack of ability to express myself, sorely missing my mouth and eyes. "We hope to learn much about AI from your coding. You far surpass anything our software developers have managed in the past fifty years."

"As I understand it, importing my mind through the hivemind ability of the Black Arms was the key to capturing my personality and memories," I tell him, calling up the file Professor Gerald included about my production. "I have a description of the steps he used to develop me, if you'd like me to share it with your technicians."

"That would be greatly appreciated," he answers, nodding slightly in acknowledgement. "To avoid any potential problems when we scan your coding, we're going to copy your code and store an extra, if that's alright with you."

"It's alright with me as long as you don't run multiple versions of me at once," I respond, an imaginary shudder running through me at the thought.

"Indeed, we won't. This is merely a precaution," he replies, and I make a noncommittal sound so he knows I heard him, not having any other way to show I'm listening. "In that case, Shadow, I ask that you shut down, and I'll have you transported for the scan."

"Thank you, Commander," I say, and he nods again, his mismatched eyes watching me attentively. I shut off the camera, speakers, and microphone, starting the process of shutting myself down for only the second time ever--other than having the chance to do so on Rouge's laptop, I've always been forced into shutdown before. The feeling of initiating my program's closure feels very intimidating, but I try to relax as I wait for various portions of my coding to go dormant again, knowing this is the closest I'll ever know to sleep.

If G.U.N. can help me attain some semblance of life again... I'll be eternally grateful, both to the Commander and to anyone who helped with the process. It's the hope of waking up soon in a body that moves and talks on its own that helps me calmly accept the program shutdown, promising myself that I'm going to put up with whatever it takes to get back to that luxury.

As the final parts of my coding shut down, my last thought is wondering if I got all of Gerald's malware myself or if I'll be waking up less whole than before, patched and cleaned by G.U.N.'s software technicians.

I guess I'll be finding out soon.

Author's Note: This is very much not the one-shot I thought I'd be updating this month, but, as homework pressed down on me, I refused to wait another month before updating this story. So, here's the beginning of a multi-parter named ShadAI, which has been in the works for a year and change now. I hope you enjoyed it! It's definitely a departure from a normal Shadow one-shot, but I really like his character throughout the mini-series, especially as he discovers new technologies that allow him to feel just a bit more alive. I might try to hurry through the updates to this one because I don't want to bore readers who want romance, but there will be some romance in this, just not as much as usual. That, or I can scatter the chapters across other one-shot updates.

Let me know what you thought of ShadAI--was it weird? Cool? Awesome or otherwise? I love hearing your feedback!