Chapter 12

  “Amos Fyree come quick!” shouted an energetic Asgard scientist. Amos stopped looking over the piece of Asuran technology he was playing with and marched over to the tiny Asgard standing in the doorway. The two walked down a small corridor in the central spire of the Asuran city ship until they arrived at a large room filled with Lantean computer terminals and several technologically advanced beds. “This is it!” said the eager Asgard. “This is where the Asurans make new Replicators.

  Amos, flanked by a half-dozen Asgard scientists, immersed himself in the intricate technologies responsible for the creation of new Replicators. “Ah, here’s the basecode… intriguing,” he murmured, his Lantean intellect absorbing the complexities of the Replicator command and control systems with remarkable ease. The atmosphere buzzed with a blend of fascination and urgency as the team meticulously examined the advanced technology before them.

  Among them were Drs. Rodney McKay and Elizabeth Weir—this latter version a Replicator—who had both danced along the edges of the Replicator’s basecode in their own pursuits. Dr. McKay, in a stroke of ingenuity, had once crafted a Replicator he named FRAN, the Friendly Replicator Android. In her brief existence, she proved to be an invaluable ally to the Atlantis expedition; without her, the final offensive against the Replicators would have surely met with disaster. “It’s my reason for being,” she had declared, her voice echoing with an unwavering resolve when McKay and Zalenka ordered her demise.

  As Amos sifted through the data, he couldn’t help but appreciate the brilliance of Dr. McKay, a mind considered a beacon of genius at Stargate Command. Yet, Amos's thoughts turned sharply to the controversial decision to dismantle FRAN instead of replicating her design—a move he found utterly foolish. In his mind, the creation of the perfect woman was an achievement unparalleled, and he pondered what it might be like to have his own FRAN by his side. The vision blossomed into a vivid fantasy of her cooking meals, offering companionship, and igniting his passions.

  “Hey beautiful, let’s make a baby,” he imagined, voicing with playful intent. The imagined response flowed back to him, rich with devotion, “Of course, my love. It’s my reason for being.” In that moment, Amos lost himself in a world where technology and humanity intertwined, the potential of artificial life stretching far beyond mere computation.

  Amos and his Asgard accomplices worked diligently on creating a biosynthetic replicator. Instead of building the next generation replicator with mechanical parts, they focused their energy on creating a synthetic polymer which would replace the nanites and be indistinguishable from real flesh. In 2007, a group of rogue Replicators hell bent on Ascension were able to manufacture synthetic human replicants of Atlantis Chief Military Officer Col. John Sheppard and his team. The replicants weren’t Replicators but human – technically. Col. Samantha Carter, then head of the Atlantis Expedition, felt uneasy about having the half replicator clones of Sheppard and his team roaming around Atlantis at the time, and fortunately for her the clones were killed soon afterwards. A year later Dr. Elizabeth Weir, whose consciousness had been transferred into a copy of FRAN’s Replicator body, worked with a team of other rogue Replicators in Atlantis to create new biological bodies for themselves in their futile hopes at Ascension. Sadly, one of the Replicators had other ideas in mind and ruined the entire project when he assaulted the base instead. Ever since then, Stargate Command has had this technology’s control crystals removed, and the replicator bed filed at an undisclosed section of Area 51. Amos knew the risks, he knew that others had tried before him and failed. Nevertheless, the benefits far outweighed the risks and armed with the knowledge of the Ancients as well as the Asgard at his back he had to ignore the past and press onward into the future. He knew that in the end, not only could he save the Asgard with this technology as well as create a new race of sexy synthetic beings. He knew that in the end, it was very possible that he could get laid out of this.

  “Amos, we’ve hit a setback,” one of the Asgard scientists said, frowning slightly. “The computer can not create biological matter that mimics human DNA. It’s like trying to turn an apple into an orange.” There was a hint of condescension in his voice that made Amos bristle. They had been at this for hours, and progress was painfully slow.

  Annoyed, Amos turned to the small Asgard, trying to keep his temper in check. “Don’t talk down to me! The coding is complicated, but it’s possible. I know that it is possible. Don’t say we can’t make apples into oranges. I’ve seen it done!”

  The Asgard narrowed his eyes, a serious expression settling on his face. “Where exactly have you seen apples turn into oranges, Amos Fyree? I’m curious.”

  The surrounding Asgard began whispering, glancing at the two as the tension rose. Suddenly, Amos shot up, a spark of inspiration lighting up his eyes. “That’s it! I have seen the technology before!”

  “You have?” the small Asgard asked, skepticism still lining his voice.

  “Yes, I have! And so have you… the Asgard Matter Conversion technology! Can’t you see?” Amos was practically glowing with excitement, yet he could tell the Asgard still did not fully grasp his discovery.

  “A problem still persists,” the Asgard pressed. “Without human DNA, the computer can’t build biological material from nothing. We need a reference.”

  Amos nodded, a smile breaking through his irritation. “But we already have a reference, my little condescending friend—me!”

  The Asgard blinked, realization dawning. “You’re right. Your DNA could serve as a reference point. If we can manage it, the computer should be able to piece together the rest of the human genome—or at least enough for one functional prototype.”

  “Exactly!” Amos exclaimed, grabbing a syringe. He drew some blood with precision, determination etched on his face. “One prototype is all we need right now. If this technology works, we can gather more human DNA and create an entire species.”

  With that, he uploaded the sample into the Asuran computer and began tapping vigorously on the control crystals, his heart desperate with anticipation.

  As Amos sat at his terminal, fingers dancing over the keyboard like a maestro conducting an orchestra, he murmured to himself, “Female. Black, Excellent body. Brilliant. Oh, and filled with knowledge from both the Ancient and Asgardian databases.” The ferocity in his coding startled the Asgard around him; he was outpacing their output three to one. One curious Asgard, peering at his work with an unsettling intensity, was starting to become bothersome.

  “Youre Hermiod, aren’t you?” Amos asked, still focused on his screen. The Asgard squirmed, taken aback. “H-how did you know?”

  “Because people at Stargate Command talk,” Amos replied, his gaze unwavering. “They say you’re an asshole.” The shock that flickered across Hermiod’s face was almost amusing. Without another word, he turned and walked away, muttering in Asgardian, leaving Amos to continue his work undisturbed.

  As Amos continued working, his eye began to wander to the Netflix tab on Dr. Jackson’s old laptop which was open on the edge of his computer terminal. On its screen was a trailer for a new series premiering on Netflix in a few years.

  “Lost in Space,” he read to himself. Amos wasn’t interested in the series per se but he was slowly becoming infatuated with something else – or rather someone else. Taylor Russel, the actress set to play Jude Robinson was the most beautiful black woman he had ever seen in his life. Sure his live in girlfriend back in college was also black and also very attractive, but nothing could compare to the seductive mannerisms of Taylor Russel. If this new life form were to embody brilliance then who better to imitate than Taylor fucking Russel.

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  Amos quickly took Daniel’s laptop and quickly interfaced it with the Replicator machine. He took every trailer, every interview, every picture –hell – he took everything he could find on Taylor Russel and placed it into that machine. What would come out of the Replicator bed wouldn’t be Taylor Russel, or Jude however. What would emerge wouldn’t be a robot or be able to replicate either. No, this one wouldn’t replicate. This one would reproduce, and with just a little bit more programming, would reproduce with none other than Amos Fyree. Amos had fallen in love with Jude from “Lost in Space”, but now she had become something more, something divine, she had become his Revelation.

  The atmosphere in the lab shifted suddenly as the Replicator bed began to bubble and churn, filling the air with the scent of something both strange and intriguing. A hot brown goo poured forth, morphing with astonishing speed into a perfectly sculpted human figure. The Asgard scientists, including the particularly pretentious one who had been incessantly needling Amos, gathered around, their eyes wide with a mix of wonder and skepticism. Soft gasps and murmurs of awe fluttered among them, an almost reverent chorus celebrating the emergence of this new life.

  Amos watched, momentarily entranced, as the creation took shape before him, but the moment was fleeting. "She is going to need clothing, Amos," the insufferable Asgard remarked casually, breaking the spell. And with that, the realization hit him: in his fervor to code and bring this being to life, he had overlooked a crucial detail—her attire.

  Without missing a beat, he sprang into action, commanding the Replicator to conjure an outfit befitting such a striking creation. “Let’s give her green military pants, sturdy military boots, those stylish black horn-rimmed glasses like mine, and a snug black shirt… oh, and a matching black bra and panties,” he mused under his breath, envisioning her in an ensemble that could easily place her among the ranks of interstellar adventurers or elite members of SG1.

  As the final pieces coalesced, the figure stood ready, an embodiment of his imagination and coding prowess. With her new attire complete, Amos felt a surge of anticipation coursing through him, bracing himself for the moment when he would activate the remarkable living machine he had meticulously crafted.

  “Hello…” said Amos’s new creation. “H-Hey,” Amos had attempted to reply to the beautiful woman but was clearly nervous.

  “M-y, my, my name is Tim. Tim Amos Fyree, I - I created you,” he quickly followed up.

  The beautiful girl on the table began to smile and emanate a warmth not normally found in Replicators, “I know who you are, it’s in my programming, knowing you is my reason for being.”

  A small tear formed in the corner of Amos’s eyes. No one had told him this before. The great error of Dr. Rodney McKay was now Amos’s Fyree’s grand masterpiece. FRAN the replicator would have done anything for Dr. McKay, yet he dropped the ball. This perfect creation in front of him however was not a Replicator but a living and breathing machine. She couldn’t replicate, all she could do was reproduce, and according to her programing – with him. Amos had done the unthinkable: he had created the perfect woman.

  Amos grabbed hold of her hand and helped her off the table. The two walked down the long majestic corridors of the Asgard’s new Valhalla until they arrived at the city ship’s makeshift infirmary.

  “Sit here please,” said one of the Asgard physicians. The Asgard performed numerous tests on her with their equipment as well as the equipment found in the city.

  “It would appear as if she is in perfect health, actually more than perfect. These scans indicate that unlike most humans she has a highly advanced immune system which can rapidly heal, five times normal human strength, and also can use up to fifty percent of the human brain with the possibility of more mental functions being accessible with time,” informed the Asgard doctor.

  Amos gently moved his hand across the face of his new creation and gently began to stroke her hair.

  “Yeah, I made sure she would be better than normal humans and that her mind would be powerful enough to house the entire Lantean and Asgardian knowledge base. She has the same knowledge as me as well as her very own batch of medical nanites I made using the Lantean technology in this city. I didn’t program her to kill, however, I thought it would be prudent to make her super strong just in case she ever had to defend herself,” Amos explained.

  Once the Asgard had finished making their medical tests and gave her a perfect bill of health, he took his new creation’s hand and took her to the cafeteria so they could get something to eat.

  As Amos and the new manufactured human female he had created walked deeper into the city, many of the Asgard stopped what they were doing and watched in awe as Amos Fyree and his female companion made their way to the eating hall. Once they arrived, the beautiful woman sat across from Amos at a red table. The crowd of curious Asgard had grown larger and had begun to encircle the new human couple.

  “Please, can you prepare some human food for us,” motioned Amos. The crowd of Asgard shook their heads and began figuring out who amongst them would feed them. Within a few minutes a small grey Asgard triumphantly marched to the red table where they were sitting with two plates in his hand.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but we took the liberty of researching what black people eat,” said the Asgard in the most serious voice. On the plates in front of them were none other than fried chicken, collard greens, and corn bread. A few seconds later another Asgard brought two glasses and placed them on the table. It was Kool Aid.

  Amos looked down at the meal trying to force a smile. “Thank you,” said Amos with perched lips. “Maybe you all can research Starbucks or Subway and start making more diverse and healthier food options for all humans, not just the black ones, thanks,” suggested Amos. The Asgard serving him turned and nodded at each other in agreement and started researching the human diet as if Amos Fyree had given them their next great task.

  Amos began to teach the new woman how to eat and drink. She had been hungry since conception. As the two began eating, Amos could still see some of the Asgard watching them in the corner of his eye. He hoped that his new girlfriend wouldn’t get abducted.

  “What’s my name?” said Amos’s creation. “Huh?” Amos wondered if he had done something wrong. He didn’t cheat on her, she was the only black woman on the Planet, yet he still thought, for a split second, that he had done something wrong. Then it clicked. He hadn’t given her a name.

  “Oh, um, let’s see, how about we call you Reva, which is a short abbreviation for Revelation,” Amos said. “I love that name. Reva, short for Revelation, that’s a beautiful name,” she said joyously. Amos and Reva continued to engage in small talk as they ate, telling her how they got here and why he had created her. The more they talked, the less nervous Amos became, and eventually they both began to laugh.

  Once they had finished their meal, Amos and Reva found themselves overcome with fatigue. "I'm ready to call it a night," Reva said, stifling a yawn.

  "Me too," Amos replied. There were countless options available to him—millions of apartments, penthouses, and lofts scattered throughout Asuras. But tonight, a different choice called to him. "I think I’ve found the perfect place," he smiled, leading her to a secluded tower on the western pier of the city, with sweeping views of the bay.

  “I like the sound of that,” Reva said as they strolled hand in hand. Amos felt a thrill of possessiveness, wanting to show everyone that she belonged to him. He tightened his grip, and her warmth steadied him against the chaotic pulse of the city.

  With his belongings shipped over from Othalla, it felt like he was finally settling into a new chapter of his life. "This is starting to feel like a vacation, don't you think?" he mused, glancing at her with a bright smile.

  Reva looked up at him, her eyes sparkling. "More like Heaven," she replied softly, and in that moment, Amos knew, without a doubt, this was where he was meant to be.

  Amos and Reva strolled back to their new apartment on Asuras, the day's warmth lingering in the air. As they approached their door, a group of Asgard ambled toward them, led by the unmistakable figure of Kvasir.

  “Greetings, Amos Fyree,” Kvasir called out, a hint of formality in his voice.

  “Hey, Kvasir! I thought you were still on Hala?” Amos replied with genuine surprise, his brow furrowing slightly.

  “In fact, I have been here all along, Amos Fyree. You might not have recognized me—I am the current leader of the Asgard Science Guild,” Kvasir stated, a note of pride in his tone.

  “Oh, well, look at you! Of all the Asgard, I’m glad it’s you taking the lead,” Amos remarked, a smile breaking across his face.

  Kvasir and his companions moved closer, the atmosphere shifting as they leaned in slightly. “We at the Asgard Science Guild were curious if you and your… companion were about to engage in copulation?”

  Amos nearly choked on his surprise, caught off guard by the bluntness of the inquiry. Could the Asgard truly be this lacking in social grace? “Well, yes—I mean, no. That’s not something humans typically share unless we want to invite others to join,” he managed to respond, his embarrassment evident.

  The group muttered amongst themselves in their native tongue, a low hum of conversation that left Amos feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Kvasir then spoke up again, his tone earnest, “My colleagues and I were wondering if we could join and observe when you two decide to copulate.”

  Amos glanced over at Reva, whose expression was inscrutable, devoid of any visible reaction. Though she possessed a human form, her mind functioned like a meticulously crafted machine, and he knew better than to push her boundaries. With a resigned sigh, he rolled his eyes at Kvasir. “No, we prefer solitude during such moments. Please ensure this hallway remains free of… onlookers so we can engage in our activities undisturbed.”

  Kvasir’s demeanor shifted, realization dawning upon him. Human customs, especially those involving intimacy, were a mystery to him. “Yes, of course. I apologize for the intrusion. I shall ensure that you and your mate are left undisturbed during your… reproduction process. Should you require anything else, do not hesitate to message us. Good day,” he concluded, bowing his head respectfully before retreating with his companions.

  Just as Kvasir turned to leave, Amos called out, “Oh, and Kvasir?”

  “Yes, Amos?” he replied, pausing momentarily.

  “Make sure nobody bothers us for the next three days,”