It had been a number of weeks since the union remnant's coup had failed.

On that day, N-414 had followed the notails back into the elevator and out of the office building, and was met with a new set of ordeals. Responsibility to all the remainders he had charged to their expected deaths fell upon his shoulders: their comfort, their basic needs, all manner of pings flooded towards him with questions he lacked the answers to. After all, he was no leader. He was a therapist, a people watcher, a priest to a faith he could no longer find comfort in. He could not abandon them all, feeling accountable for every last one after what he had forced them into.

And as much as he could not escape them, he would not allow them to escape him either. Many times he stopped using his antennae, speaking aloud so that his own thoughts would not dominate those of others, but as the cracks began to form and tensions rose he would come to use them again just to settle their worries. All trepidation was muted save for his own. The union's supplies were soon running low, and while the swarm could survive scrounging in alleys he could not stand to subject them to such a fate.

So he made an appointment with the assistant. It stung his pride to have to crawl back to the top of that tower, to beg for his swarm to be allowed into a Heaven he had sought to destroy, but life had become overwhelming. He needed a reprieve for his swarm, for himself.

The sight N-414 had come to was much like the one he saw when he had first tried to fight the gods.

As the wires rip through N-414, the delethis inside of his head awakens, the power of Life allowing it to finally spread through the body, fusing with N-414 into a new creature. An ancient one, rarely seen.