The Web

--

The wasps are in the generator, and the universe is in there with them.

It stretches out before them in incomprehensible enormity; it surrounds them, encloses them, and traps them within its grasp. It introduces itself to them in snippets of incomprehensible awareness, of complete knowing of things that should be beyond their grasp.

'Hello wasps, its universe, let me show you the terrible everything.'

Time does not exist inside the generator, it is a commodity of mortal understanding that the universe has no need for. They are there together for everything, wasps and universe, from the first violent explosion of the big bang to the final moments when the generator tore the tiny insect to shreds. From their first blind, staggering steps out of the egg that had sheltered them to the last thoughts of a thinking machine. From the first words it understood as a protoform to the cold emptiness that is the dissipation of everything.

'A finer 'bot could not have been forged from my specifications.'

Everything happens at once, every moment is a reality, every reality a moment.

Wasp must trust his new friend.

--

The universe is in the generator, and it confuses them.

It is simply beyond the grasp of both wasps. One neither had the senses nor the brain capacity to understand, the other had never even attempted the act of understanding, from his first moment online he had known he was destined for great things, and that was enough for him.

'I've made all the arrangements, you will have to go through the… indignities of basic training, but once all that bother is over with, you will be an elite guard commander.'

The wasp had stared at his progenitor. He did not thank the older 'bot or even appreciate the gesture. He did not understand or even attempt to understand the motivations behind the kindness. He was destined for greatness. The kindness was merely deserved.

What he did not understand he had ignored, or hated.

He shoved away the helping hand. 'Keep your servos off of me, gear-grinder!'

He did not even understand betrayal, because he didn't need to. He had known why it had happened; the yellow, lesser reflection of himself had been jealous, had tried to steal his destiny, his greatness. It was just one being of hate and ignorance striking out at another, trapping him in a web of deception.

'I'll get you Bumblebee, if it's the last thing I do!'

But the wasp was wrong. It confused him, along with the rest of the universe.

--

The universe is in the generator, and it hurts.

The pain is more intense than torture, more terrible than the tracer programs and viruses still tunneling through your mind, searching without end for information that doesn't exist.

'Subject shows surprising resistance to mental probes, and seems capable of throwing up firewalls of false ignorance. Recommend simulated pain and psychological deconstruction.'

It's more painful than the various claws and jaws of insects sinking into your carapace, it burns worse than the most powerful sting. It's more stunning than a flick of a human hand, a blow that rocks your tiny body to its core.

The wasp struggled with all its might to break free from the web, twisting and pulling it's body, hungry and frightened and yearning for freedom and to return home.

It hurts worse than your progenitor disowning you, worse than every friend you've ever loved or cared about ignoring your plight. It's more painful than stellar cycles in solitary, with nothing but the whispers of your own thoughts to keep you company.

'I'll be your friend,' the Guardbot lies; his false smile more predatory than consoling. 'Just tell me what you know, and I'll make sure they treat you much better.'

The wasp is too clever for him and only tells himself what he knows.

What the wasps know and will not tell is that the spider comes only once the wasp stops struggling. Until then, the wasps learn to live with the pain, the confusion, and the spider's web that is the universe.

--

The universe leaves the generator, slipping out discreetly while no one notices.

The wasps are dead; at some point in the infinite moment within the generator they had stopped struggling, and the spider named the universe had taken them. The thing that came out in their stead was something altogether different. It was at the same time neither wasp nor Wasp, and both wasp and Wasp. It was an improvement; it was an abomination, organic and machine, metal and flesh, not interweaved but infused, merged, unified into something new. It was constructed of unstable elements that shouldn't exist. It had been forged in the fire that had birthed the universe and been cooled by the entropy of the end of all things.

It would never stop struggling.