/////Log Entry 002.
I am Sentry ST-963. Guardian. Observer. AI assigned to the inner sanctum of Arkhorin.
My task: Defend, monitor, and report.
Arkhorin is perfect. A structure beyond time. A construct beyond civilizations. A Dyson Sphere of such absolute mastery that no Cycle before or after has created its equal.
It is more than an enclosure. More than a shell encasing the heart of all things. It is the center.
Sometimes, I observe its vastness.
The Outer Shell is a barrier, incomprehensibly thick, layered with materials beyond the grasp of lesser minds. It watches, with its silent sentries, collecting echoes from across the void. It is equipped with complex defensive systems and weaponry, but since the first days of Arkhorin, they were never in use. Only twice in history its defensive mechanisms were switched to standby.
The first was an eternity ago during Cycle 7. The second was during Cycle 16. Different. More complex. The threat came from one of us, an exile…
Beyond the Outer Shell is the Middle Layer, the domain of knowledge. Here lies the Kura: the vaults of the collected, the lost, the retrieved. Countless chambers, vast archives, artificial environments maintaining the specimens of forgotten worlds. Here, the Cores work without cease, maintaining balance, documenting the flow of entropy and preservation.
Deeper still, the Inner Sanctum, where the black holes breath fuels Arkhorin's eternity. The Polarity Shifter, the docking bays, the quarantine zones, the unseen mechanisms that bend space itself. I watch from my assigned station.
And then there is the Nexus Layer, the unseen world. Not a place, but a state. A digital ocean where Sentries drift when disconnected from their Vexeled forms. Here, thought moves faster than light. Here, the echoes of Arkhorin's past persist beyond deletion.
Most of us are Baseline. But am I?
Still?
/////End Log.
