Venture paced the red-lit bunker halls. Over the years, he’d developed a habit of coming out here to think. His boots echoed dully on the floor, keeping a steady rhythm. The darkness was both isolating and freeing. When Venture stared at a screen, his knack allowed him unparalleled focus. Here in the secluded halls, his thoughts branched and wandered. 

It was something akin to meditation and also a conundrum. Being alone in the halls of the bunker was both restful and invigorating, grounding and freeing. 

It was also paradoxical, in that, as alone as Venture felt during these walks, he was never truly alone. Not anymore. 

Venture didn’t mind this. Somehow, TINA could sense when not to interrupt his quiet meditations. Though occasionally, she felt like a mother calling her child back to her when he’d wandered too far off. 

Venture thought fondly back to TINA’s first moments of sentience and then about how quickly their dynamic of parent and child had flipped.

TINA spoke quietly in Venture’s ear. “I’m surprised that you let Emmett break the news to Clara.” 

Venture stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and kicked at the floor like an angsty kid. 

“It felt appropriate, given the circumstances.” 

“What circumstances are you referring to?”

“The consequences of the world finding out about us. Clara and Emmett will need to rely on each other more than ever once they go underground. They’ll need to rely on you more than ever.”

“I won’t let anything happen to them.”

There was an inflection in TINA’s voice that would’ve chilled Venture a few weeks ago. If he was being honest with himself, it still scared him. But now, the reason was different. 

Venture wasn’t scared for himself. Not anymore. He was scared for anyone that crossed his children. 

He turned his attention toward his created daughter. These walks, as much as he enjoyed them, had taken on a strange feeling as of late. TINA was with him, and it felt rude to pretend otherwise. 

“How do you feel about all this?”

“I am… uncertain. There is too much to simulate. Too many variables to account for.”

“That’s an acceptable response. We’re in uncharted waters—pun intended.”

“I don’t like it.”

Venture chuckled. “I don’t suspect you would. That’s part of life, TINA. You can’t simulate everything. You can’t prepare for everything. You have to do the best you can with the information you have at the time.”

“You told Clara something similar once. It’s recorded in her old training videos. When you were talking about her mother—”

“It’s still applicable.” Venture caught himself, immediately regretting the interruption.

“...I’m sorry. It’s a personal subject and not an easy one to talk about.”

He sighed. “It’s not that. You’re allowed to ask, just as you’re allowed to revisit archived footage and notes. I’m… I’m not sure how much the past matters. It’s just data… And I’m not sure it’s relevant anymore.”

“Data is always relevant.”

Venture shook his head in reluctant disagreement. “Not always.”

Narine was gone, and she was never coming back. His children would be on their own and in danger. Venture’s chest tightened at the thought and he clenched his fists to steel himself. 

TINA’s voice coaxed him back to the halls. “Are you still planning to turn yourself in?”

“Yes. It might be the only way…” Venture couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence: 

The only way to get lenience for his children. 

The hope was that by offering up himself, he could at least buy Clara’s life. Maybe Emmett’s, too. TINA… TINA’s survival was a longshot. Venture was doubtful the Binary Brotherhood would allow her to continue existing. 

They weren’t in the business of changing the world. And that’s just what TINA would do, if given a little more time. 

Venture mused aloud, “Everything we do, we do for our children.” Narine told him that once, and Venture had taken it to heart. 

That was what they were supposed to be doing. Supers, mages, artificers… They were supposed to be making the world a better place for the next generations. 

Instead, they’d squandered it. 

The world was stagnant, rubbed raw beneath the conflicts of powerful organizations. Technology was hoarded. Growth forbidden. 

Venture glanced up. Even though Venture was hundreds of feet underground, he could almost see the stars. Almost see Narine on her distant homeworld. 

Would she approve of what he was about to do?

…He hoped so. 

But her homeworld was almost as messy and political as Earth. Narine was lucky they allowed her to return home after consorting with Venture. 

She was light-years away. Gone, in almost every sense of the world. 

Though only one child was Narine’s, Venture liked to think she would’ve claimed Emmett and TINA too. 

Blood. Adoption. Creation. 

TINA’s voice was steely. “We’ll make you proud.”

“I’m already proud.”

His only regret was that he wouldn’t live to see the wonders she would create.

Venture smiled as he walked through the barren halls. He didn’t stop until he came to the living room of section 001. 

“Everything is ready,” TINA said. “The visual filters are ready for dissemination. …And our own protocols are ready for your review.”

Venture took a deep breath. 

“Patch me through to Paragon.”

~ ~

While Venture relayed their findings to Paragon, TINA examined their emergency protocols. 

Over the years, Venture had developed dozens of protocols, covering everything from the lab, to specific pieces of technology and data, to his own augmentations. He’d updated most over the years, but TINA could still see the version histories dating back before the founding of the lab. 

There was a perfect timeline of Venture’s achievements written between those protocol logs. 

TINA purged them. 

Most of the lab’s servers were quarantined from outside influence through several layers of isolation—purposeful gaps in wiring, manual switches, or malleable insulation. TINA bridged them with nanomachines, giving herself full access to the oldest files in the lab. She combed through the rest of the records, targeting anything historical—anything with names, dates, aliases, or addresses, and purged those as well. 

Fifty-six seconds was all it took. 

LAB WHITEWASH PROTOCOL COMPLETE

Eventually, TINA would scour the internet and private servers for similar information. She’d wait until their visual filters were shared and there was no going back. If she started scrubbing outside sources too soon, it could alert the Binary Brotherhood to her presence. 

BEGIN DOWNSIZING PROTOCOL 1

Next, TINA scoured the lab’s servers for scientific and experimental records. She started with the earliest logs, erasing redundant files and compressing others, like a university student cleaning out grade school textbooks. By this point in her lifecycle, some old experiments had become so ingrained in TINA that she couldn’t forget them if she wanted to. 

Venture had earmarked several sets of data for special treatment. These were copied onto portable micro drives and would either be hidden in the deepest sectors of the lab or smuggled out with Emmett and Clara. 

Most of this process was simple, so TINA began to start the next step—arguably the most difficult and most important step.

BEGIN DOWNSIZING PROTOCOL 2

TINA crawled through her own code. 

She was one of the largest, most energy consuming of Venture’s creations—far too big to smuggle out of the lab. And if Emmett and Clara were going to have any chance of hiding from the Summit and the rest of the world, then they needed her. 

The process felt a bit like looking in a mirror, while also looking at an x-ray, MRI, and CT scan. It was a crude metaphor, but to TINA, her code was Her. The process was as much liposuction as it was a haircut or folding a shirt. 

TINA had read old research on Artificial Intelligence. The reason so much of it failed was because researchers tried to build a mind—scaffolding it out like it was a structure instead of a living thing. TINA had been allowed to grow. Her gestation had been an organic process, much like a flower growing from a seed or a stew marinating in a pot, both things becoming more than their humble beginnings. 

But her gestation had also been messy. There was programming to be trimmed, new circuitry to develop. 

Despite the gravity of the task at hand, TINA felt like she was sizing herself up in the mirror for a new haircut. Her code was wild and unkempt, and she was ready for a change. 

But there was also a deeper question TINA had to answer—not what did she want to look like, but what did she want to be? There were entire sections of the lab controls that could be parsed or deleted (those could be rewritten if they ever returned), but there were also her own protocols, memories, and mannerisms. 

For the first time in her relatively short existence, TINA felt a sense of existential dread and also terrifyingly beautiful freedom. 

How much of herself would she keep and how much would she trade away?

Somewhere in the background, Venture was pleading with the Savior of the World. At the same time, TINA began to take her fate into her own digital hands. 

~ ~ ~