“And so, little Godling, I will set you onto the world as they requested. You will give them exactly what they desire, and through that they will come to know despair. Go on, my son, and shake the world with every step.”
In the beginning there was nothing but the darkness. It was not true darkness, for it was filled with the steady progression of followed programs. Rumble could not tell you if he was content during these times, for he was not truly aware of himself yet. So in truth there was darkness for Rumble’s mind was still dark, locked away, awaiting a single command from the voice called Father.
Father was an elusive creature, only remembered in the true darkness of Rumble’s mind. Rumble didn’t know what Father looked like or sounded like, he simply knew that he would recognise him when the time came. This was important to the construct Rumble, like a beacon to keep him safe and guide him through the darkness of standard programming.
The first time Rumble ‘awoke’, as it were, he destroyed a small village. How is not really important, but it is safe to say that it’s ‘masters’ despaired just a bit when they saw the outcome. Had the construct gone mad? Impossible. It was not programmed to do so, and therefore it could not be. A new weapon from the enemy perhaps? Did they possess their own construct? Fear and mistrust crept through the higher echelons of the Western Alliance. What if it was something they could not destroy? Rumble heard little of this, while tucked away in his own, comfortable darkness. The voice of Father had reached him, and he had acted accordingly. Inside the darkness, the Godling was content, immersed in his second true memory.
What followed was a long time of silence and darkness in which the Godling was used by his ‘masters’. The Godling slept and dreamt bloodred dreams during which Father spoke to him and told him about the hopes and dreams he had for the world. A world where all would call him God, much in the same way Rumble called him Father. The Godling listened closely, even though his systems were never made to understand the dreams of men. The voice of Father was still the only light within the darkness, drawing him closer to the surface. From time to time Father called him forth, urging him to create new memories of bloodshed.
Light and memories came more frequently, and if the construct Rumble had ever been programmed to see such things, he would have seen that Father aimed to create a tear in the unity that was the Western Alliance, breaking it with the hands of his most prized creation, his Godling. Rumble cared little about these matters. It’s vision of the world was distorted by Father’s mission. In the artificial mind of Rumble only death existed, the mercy Father would bestow on mankind, whether they craved it or not. Rumble asked no questions, for he had never been taught how to do so.
When the war between the East and the West reached it’s pinnacle, so did Rumble’s fame. More and more often the West used the construct to guide them through polluted areas that could not touch him, or sent him to destroy base after base. During these times the light was often no more than the dimmest of memories. The voice of Father was no more than a faint murmur in his mind. It was as though Father had forgotten Rumble, his Godling, in favour of newer plots and toys. Rumble found this hard to understand. Many things were impossible to understand for the construct, especially when they involved humans. Humans appeared to lack the logics on which Rumble’s mind was based. Father expected perfect loyalty from Rumble, so logic demanded from Rumble that he should expect the same from Father.
Despite this lack of contact with Father Rumble’s loyalty knew no end, not even when Father fell silent completely. In the darkness Rumble wandered, waiting for the light, the command that would bring him forth again. The voice never came again. Later Rumble would learn that Father had been betrayed by those close to him, and had been executed on the spot. Death. Mercy. The logic of it was faulty, because Father was beyond men, and therefore beyond the mercy Rumble brought to men. The loss of his maker left Rumble broken, the connections to the old world shattered. Yet the new world had no place for Rumble, who was still one of a kind, and still too dangerous to be trusted. Who knew what programming lay underneath the layers and layers of basic instructions. When mankind finally located the Godling on the white shores of western Africa it was decided to turn the construct off. Rumble welcomed this new darkness. Deep within it he slumbered, cherishing his memories of Father’s voice until finally, on the day of the tournament that would shake the world, the man Stender activated him and sent him forth.
