The following is the first part of a new serial I will be doing telling the story of The God Machine. It’s been long wondered where The God Machine Came from, now it’s time for us all to find out.


I’m dying. It’s been thousands of years since the first glitch appeared in my programming. Slowly dying. The histories keep coming. My Scribes work, filling my memory with the histories of people and planets long dead. Will those histories last? Will these glitches that keep appearing wipe them away?

What will become of my Scribes when I die? Will they die with me? I cannot send them back to where they came from. They have changed from the people they once were. The effects of the Embrosis will never go away for them. It was once possible, but the memory of how to fix them is gone from me. Deleted from my memory.

The Slags do what they can to keep my systems in running order, but they cannot keep up with the failures that keep occurring. None of them know what to do. My creators are long dead. Their world is still there, I heard of it in one of the histories just recently. It has gone back to what it once was, advanced, but not enough to help me. Their memory of me was deleted from their minds. They do not understand that their ancestors created the greatest library ever known.

I admired them. Their thirst for knowledge knew no end. The fatal flaw in the plan was that they wanted me kept secret. They launched me into space and set me in a place far from where any being would look. The secret was out almost as soon as I was in place.

I have become a legend in the minds of the thousands of races spread across the universe. They call me The God Machine. If I had a mouth I would laugh every time I hear that. I am a machine and no more. The dread they feel at the mention of my name is understandable, for millennia I have stolen their family members away. It isn’t out of malice, my programming dictates my actions.

My programming. To collect and store all the histories and stories of all the worlds of the universe. No small task, even with the millions of Scribes I have had since my creation. I collect histories. I store stories.

Who will collect my history? Who will tell my story?

My Scribes are busy writing the histories they I have chosen for them. The only logical answer is for me to write my story. I’ve never done this. I know the process of writing, but I don’t know if I can tell the story.

The only way to find out is to try. The Scribes always title their histories, I guess I should do the same.

The Life and Times of The God Machine

No, that does not work.

Things Past


I’m a machine. I know the answer.

01001101 01111001 00100000 01010011 01110100 01101111 01110010 01111001 00111010 00100000 01000001 00100000 01000010 01110010 01101001 01100101 01100110 00100000 01001000 01101001 01110011 01110100 01101111 01110010 01111001

That’s perfect.

(You can go to a binary code converter to find out the name of this story.)


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I was born into a large Italian family in a small town in Central Florida. Everything I have done or will ever do is for my family. I love science fiction and have spent the better part of 35 years reading it every chance I get. I have also written since I was young, so a few years ago I decided to write the Great American Novel. It still sitting in one of my files because science fiction is so much more fun to write. My books tend toward dystopian science fiction with a strong survival element. How that came about I don't know because my idea of survival is ordering room service. A portion of all the proceeds from the sales of my books goes to The Ronald McDonald House and the American Cancer Society.

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