Semylyn groaned. She could not count the times she'd heard that statement. "Is your existing program that of the original Atlantean Warder?" Semylyn tapped her fingers against her wrist as she waited. With a strobe-bright flash, the Warder's interfacing orb reappeared, superimposed over the image of Atlantis.

"This program is the original used by the Mother City, engineered by Atlantean scientist Lohen Vimsck. The Warder program was included as part of Sitnalta's architectural plan. Installed and uploaded on..."

"So," She interrupted, "You're Atlantean?" There was a pause.

"I am."

Semylyn blinked. There were moments when the Warder seemed self-aware. He was, she reminded herself, the most advanced piece of technology Sitnaltians had ever known. Nevertheless, possessing all the information on an entire race, or simply being ancient in years did not make a machine sentient. What was it that her father had said on several occasions? "The Warder's contributions were more than wise." She pondered what that meant.

"Warder, show me the Prime." Semylyn gazed at the image that shone from the screens before her. Undulating through the ocean, the Warder projected the Prime's essence as finite silver currents that ran through Earth's oceans like filaments of thread. She leaned forward, gazing at the image. It wasn't that the Prime was an actual silver, it's more as if the ocean water just next to it was less silver.

She drew in a deep breath, holding it as she sank deeper in her chair and thought, the most basic components of the problem.

"Warder, show me the realm of the Sun-Dwellers." The familiar images conjured up mixed feelings, some awesome, and some dreadfully painful. For that reason, she'd not viewed them in over three years.

How could any world survive the contradictions of its existence? Vast mountains and green forests, sparkling rivers, and seething, powerful volcanoes passed in succession. Then came the true Sun-Dweller reality: steaming cities, belching factories, miles upon miles of life-destroying pavement that crushed all wildlife, trees, and fauna. Worst of it all, the sickening tons upon tons of pollution dumped and scattered in all Earth's waters, and the innumerable mining operations both sea-faring and not. Troyak was right. They were the problem. How could any Sun-Dweller live amid such ruthless exploitation and be capable of helping anybody?

"Warder, please stop the viewer," Semylyn said, shaking in disgust.

She sat in the resulting darkness, thinking for a long while. She would soon inherit all the problems presently weighing upon her father's shoulders, that of Sitnalta, and by extension, the entire planet. It was enough to make her sick all over again. Tears formed and spilled over onto her cheeks as the sheer magnitude of the responsibility overtook her.

"War...Warder, will I be a good High Guardian?" she flung the question out despondently and awaited the expected failsafe reply.

"Semylyn Vock," The Warder said instead. Semylyn sat up straight, intrigued. "Eighteen years of age. Last embryonic being to be animated, in line to inherit High Guardianship of Sitnalta. Character profile: Intelligence aptitude: Extremely High. Social aptitude: Acceptable, slightly less adept than most. Primary motivation..." Semylyn held her breath. "Duty."

The Warder stopped and Semylyn breathed out. Why had the Warder changed the answer format, giving her entire existence in a few analytical sentences?

"Projected success in the role of High Guardian," the Warder continued, "High."

Semylyn found a smile, mostly of disbelief, creeping into the corners of her mouth.

"Thank you, Warder. That's comforting."

"You are welcome, Semylyn."

The personal reply alarmed her, forcing another question despite her reserve. "Warder, are...are you alive? Something is different, isn't it? I mean...oh, I don't know what I mean."

"That question does not fall within adequate parameters. Please rephrase."

"Never mind," she said.

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Thank you for taking this journey with me as I write this story.