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It was the lovechild of microphone feedback and the sound of a fax trying to go through a telephone, made the more discordant and surprising due to the fact it came partway through a sentence.
Zenyatta said a koan, the last word swallowed up by the shrill, staticky beep.
Genji flinched.
“Apologies.” Zenyatta’s voice still hissed more than usual, but at least didn’t assualt Genji’s ears. “My voice is not behaving itself today.”
***
It happened three more times that day. At least when Genji was around.
Zenyatta was oddly unconcerned about it. He was apologetic about startling people, but did not see any cause for worry in the fact that his speech glitched.
“I have never heard you sound like that,” Genji said.
“Is that so? I have heard your voice do similar things.”
Genji wracked his brain, trying to think of any time he sounded like a photocopier being attacked by a robotic bull.
“Though at the time I was more concerned about your other symptoms.”
Genji changed tracks, adding ‘when he was sick’ to his search. The only time Zenyatta had seen him sick was a year ago, when he’d caught a cold near Pokhara. “I did not realise Omnics could sneeze.”
“It is not really the same thing, but they have similar causes. My antivirus will deal with it shortly. Though, I must apologize again. I was not aware you’d never seen an omnic with a virus.”
“You should not apologise for my ignorance, master.”
“Doesn’t it say something about my skill as a teacher?” He laughed, a few beats of it swallowed up by the feedback-static.
***
A week passed. The ‘sneezes’ grew more frequent. Zenyatta’s orbs wobbled out of their orbit, and he had to adjust them back into position. He grew sluggish, as much as he meant to hide it.
He and Genji walked through the base’s grounds, talking philosophy.
An orb dropped. Genji caught it, and handed it back to Zenyatta. He took it in his hands, before placing it back around his neck. “Thank you.”
“This virus has been giving you trouble.”
“And my antivirus will deal with it.”
“How long does that usually take?”
Zenyatta paused. “A week.”
“Will you let someone look at it? Maybe more for my sake then yours...”Genji threaded his fingers through Zenyatta’s hands. “It is getting worse, and your antivirus doesn’t appear to be helping.”
Zenyatta tightened his grip, then loosened it. “I will have someone look. I may be being too stoic about this.”
***
Zenyatta meditated on the floor of Winston’s office, wires trailing from his neck into a computer. Winston flicked through file directories. Zenyatta’s files directories.
It felt odd actually seeing them. Like looking at his brain. Which we are, really, Genji thought. He stood behind Winston, looking over his shoulder. Supposedly, he was here to be Zenyatta’s advocate while he was unconscious, to make sure Winston didn’t try anything. Not that he would. Winston was the only person on base in the middle of the venn diagram of ‘knew omnic code’ and ‘trustworthy around omnics.’ And Winston had seen Genji fight enough to know that jeopardising that last trait would be a bad idea.
Really, Genji was mostly because he worried. Otherwise, he’d spend the time pacing outside Winston’s door. (He’d admitted as much to Zenyatta. He found it oddly charming.)
“Hmm.” Winston frowned at the screen. “Doesn’t seem to be an antivirus here.”
“He said he had one.”
“Some viruses are smart enough to detect and delete them. I’ll just go put a newer one on--” Athena popped up another window, containing a suite of the latest anti virus software. He dragged one of them over into Zenyatta.
Genji cringed behind his visor, but kept quiet. The Shambali were okay with anti viruses, Zenyatta was okay with anti viruses, and trusted Winston to make a good decision. But it felt uncomfortable watching someone add something to his master, even more uncomfortable than just seeing his bare files. Genji didn’t want his discomfort to cause him to cry wolf, though.
The anti virus copied itself over.
And got deleted immediately.
Winston’s frown deepened, and he copied it over again. Deleted again.
“Must be a very smart virus.”
Winston pushed his glasses up. “Let’s a take a look at this.” He opened a file, some sort of program as far as Genji could tell.
A line of code changed as they watched. Winston changed it back. The line disappeared, then became the changed version.
Winston turned the computer off at the powerpoint, and started pulling out network cables. He was methodical, quiet. Like this was drilled into him, an emergency response checklist he’d practiced. Genji’s stomach dropped. What if it was?
Finally, he pulled the cords out of Zenyatta, and he woke up.
“I don’t think there’s a tactful way to say this, at least not one I’ve learned.” He looked grave, even as he perched on a too small wheelie chair. “It’s God AI infection.”
Zenyatta didn’t say anything. Not even some vague noise of understanding. Genji wanted to fill the dead air, but he couldn’t think of anything. The three of them sat there, silence stretching.
“It’s not one I’ve seen before, or at least one that’s changed a lot since I last saw it. I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I don’t want to dash them either. We might be able to fix this. It is possible to remove God AI infection in some cases. Depending on their goals, we may be able to negotiate your body back, even if we can’t beat it with tech.
“But we might not be able to, and it’s too early to make that call. I’ll do my best, and I’m sure others will too.”
“Thank you, Winston.” His voice squawked partway through ‘you.’
***
Overwatch’s focus shifted to the new God AI. Dealing with God AI was one of it’s purposes in the old days. Still is one of it’s purposes, Genji reminded himself. After six years talking of Overwatch in past tense, he often forgot that it existed again, and he was part of it. It felt like it was something different now, even if most of the people from the old days had flocked back.
But that was only one reason. A team member was at stake. (Two at stake, some thought. Those that had known Genji before he met Zenyatta.)
Those that could scrambled to analyse the patterns, probing for weak points in the AI. Others scouted the desert landscape, for some sign of the AI’s main hub. The rest girded themselves for the attack.
The God AI was named. A provisional one, until the AI named itself, or it was discovered to be an offshoot of some already named one.
Genji sharpened his sword on a whetstone. Whatever it took, Quetzalcoatl would die.
***
McCree took his ear protectors off, and put the peacekeeper back in it’s holster. Genji leaned on the back wall of the range.
“I’m not so sure about the name of this AI.”
Genji cocked his head.
McCree joined him on the wall, and lit a cigar. “Call me superstitious, but names have power. They shape the thing they name. Look at you.”
“Murasaki didn’t write about cyborg ninjas.”
McCree rolled his hand. “You know what I mean. And I don’t mean that. Quetzalcoatl is the god of learning. Do we want this thing to learn any faster?”
***
Genji shuffled into the canteen with the walk of someone that had no sleep, but had to be sneaky about getting coffee in case Mercy noticed. He grabbed an unowned mug, and poured coffee from the pot into it.
He fell down into a chair, exhausted. He hated it when he had to relearn things about himself. Turns stress triggered nightmares. Who knew? Well, him, six years ago.
He enjoyed being murdered multiple times last night.
Winston dragged himself towards the coffee, with a similar look to Genji’s. Genji saw him last night, while pacing to burn off the adrenaline. He’d been staring at a screen, and typing like he was tilting.
He slumped down on a chair next to Genji, holding a mug with a print of some formula or other.
Genji lifted his visor just enough to reveal his mouth. He was more comfortable with his face, but he didn’t like showing it in public settings. He’d got used to scarring, but not others staring. But it did mean he gulped down the coffee blind.
“I didn’t think we had that many god AI.” He tipped the mug again, draining the dregs. “We’re already up to Q.”
“It’s not alphabetical. There’s sort of a... list thing.” He waved a hand vaguely in front of him. “It’s picked from that.”
“Oh. I thought in order, what with Anubis and Baal being the oldest.”
“Coincidence and convention, in those cases. There’s a lot of God AI out there, but not that many.”
***
“It is a beautiful evening.” Zenyatta looked through the canopy of the eucalypts up at the orange-pink sky.
Genji had his arm entwined with Zenyatta’s, supporting his weight. “It is, isn’t it.” Magpies settled in the branches and watched them as they walked. Zenyatta shuffled slowly, thinking carefully about each foot placement, and even then he was unsteady.
Quetzalcoatl had taken away his ability to float, and Zenyatta learned to walk. (Quetzalcoatl had taken many things. Too many.)
Zenyatta veered to the right, and Genji caught him before he fell to the ground. “Thank you.”
“It’s okay, you’re doing well.” Genji paused. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
Zenyatta cocked his head.
“It may just be me. I remember when Angela used to say that to me. It was very frustrating.” He shrugged. “Though I was frustrated most of that time.”
“I’ll admit I am finding--” He stumbled and righted himself “--this learning process vexing.”
“Do you want me to carry you?”
“That would not be necessary.” He quoted Mondatta. “‘One must learn to be independent, and to take their own actions.’” He left off the part about ‘without orders.’ Genji wondered if it was a test to see how much he remembered of Mondatta’s teachings, or just an attempt to play off the favour. Either way, Genji remembered more than Zenyatta expected.
He picked Zenyatta up in a bridal carry. He was heavy, but the artificial muscles of his armour were strong enough for him to carry Winston with ease. “One must also learn to support their brethren, and accept that support in turn, so that all may grow.”
“You are too competent a pupil for your own good.”
Genji laughed. “Are you sure you do not want to be carried? It is not a burden, and it will do you no good to fall because of your pride.”
Zenyatta leaned his head into Genji’s shoulder. “Considering I am already here--”
Genji smiled under his helmet, and walked on.
***
Genji woke up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Zenyatta sat on the ground, face plate glowing in the dark room. “Did you sleep well, Genji?”
“Well enough. You?”
Zenyatta paused. “I’m not sure I am able to sleep at all.”
***
Fareeha Amari joined Overwatch part way through this tumult.
Genji had not interacted with her much, but she seemed like a good enough choice. Hypercompetent, rock steady, and had experience dealing with God AI. It helped too that her mother was the famous Ana.
She kept her distance from him at first, seeming a little adrift socially, and like she had been worded up about the Zenyatta situation. Must have decided her needed space. Which was good. Genji had enough he was trying to juggle without having to deal with building a friendship.
But then she changed her mind.
Genji meditated outside the compound, feeling the sun warming his armour plates.
Fareeha walked up to him. Her armour made a mechanical whirr with each step. “Do you mind if I talk to you?”
He looked up at her. “Not at all, Miss Amari.”
She knelt down on the ground next to him. “There is no need to be so formal.”
Genji waited for her to speak again, but she stared out at the horizon, thinking.
She spoke slowly, carefully, like reading from a script. “I’ve dealt with a God AI breaking containment before.”
“Anubis. I have read some of your file.”
“I had a team with me then. One of them was Okoro. He was good. Very good. And we were close, like I was close with the rest of my team.” She glanced over at Genji. “He was an omnic.”
A heavy weight settled in Genji’s gut. He could see where Fareeha was trying to lead this conversation, he had read that part of the file about Anubis’ re-containment. “I can see where you are going, and I’m going to suggest you stop.” A little voice looped around his head It’s not the same, we have time Helix didn’t have, this isn’t a battle, Quetzalcoatl might not want that-- but another voice rebutted every point.
“He did what he had to do.” She blinked rapidly, and Genji couldn’t tell if it was because the sun was in her eyes or she was trying not to cry. “I don’t know Zenyatta as well as you do, but he seems-- caring. Self sacrificing.”
“Fareeha--” He tried to sound calm, but it came out much more growl like.
“I just want to make sure that if it happens, it doesn’t blind side you.”
“Miss Amari. Leave.”
She did, thankfully, but the tension around Genji didn’t.
Zenyatta wouldn’t do that. Not while there’s still hope.
He tried to relax, get back to meditating, but the adrenaline coursing through him wouldn’t let him settle. He couldn’t focus on the sun in front of him, the grass underneath him. His thoughts rushed around him, and he fought to be a mere observer of them, but they clamoured too loud.
It’s not the same, we have time Helix didn’t have, this isn’t a battle, Quetzalcoatl might not want that--
***
Winston dragged himself into the mess. His fur stuck up at odd angles, his glasses sat askew, and he had bags under his eyes.
He made a beeline for the coffee pot, and in full view of a slightly horrified Angela, downed the entire thing.
***
Winston summoned them into his office. He looked shattered, even more than before.
The rate of infection had sped up, and there was a danger little of Zenyatta would be left by the time they came up with a cure. (Which they will, Genji thought. We will succeed. He didn’t manage to convince himself.)
“Do you have a backup?” Winston asked.
“No,” Zenyatta said.
Genji tried to signal that it was a touchy subject, but he made the mistake of trying to use his face.
“It may be best if we make a backup of you now, to buy us time.” He pushed his glasses up. “When we figure out something, we can make the necessary fixes, and then put you back into you.”
“No”
Winston blinked twice, like he hadn’t expected the conversation to go this way.
“The Shambali believe all artificial intelligence is life. A backup of me is just as much a person as myself. A separate person. Using a backup in the way you suggest would be akin to creating a clone to harvest organs from.”
Winston opened his mouth to speak.
“Which we are also against.”
Genji nearly said something to try and convince Zenyatta, but stopped himself. It wasn’t his place to make those decisions, and it would be disrespectful to try and change his mind. It wouldn’t work, anyway. And Zenyatta’s perspective was reasonable. Genji even agreed with it, until now.
Now, he would do whatever it took to maximise his master’s chances. He would make a clone of himself and harvest its organs if it would save Zenyatta.
He’d harvest his own organs if it would save Zenyatta.
“No, I was going to say ‘I understand.’” Winston said. “We won’t do anything you wouldn’t want us to do. And we will still try to fix this. I just wanted to make sure you knew what options we had on the table. I’ll it’s not going so well. But we still have a chance.”
“Thank you for your efforts, Winston.” He held out an arm for Genji to support.
Winston looked away, at the floor. “Just doing what’s right.”
Genji helped Zenyatta hobbled out the door, and closed it behind them.
Zenyatta sensed Genji’s mood. “All things must change or perish.” Genji remembered the first time he had said that to him. It had been acknowledgement of Genji’s options; that it was cyberisation or death, and wasn’t life still much better? Back then, it was more blunt than Genji thought Zenyatta could be.
Now he sounded more resigned. It sounded like an acceptance of mortality, that most likely Quetzalcoatl would win and Zenyatta would lose.
“Please do not give up.”
Zenyatta lay a hand on Genji’s shoulder. His orbs spun at a forty five degree angle to what they should have. “It is not in my nature to give up. As long as I am still myself, I will be determined.”
“Thank you.”
***
Something crashed into a wall on the other side of the base. Alarms whooped.
A fight had started.
Genji grabbed his swords and shoved shurikens into the slots of his arm. He ran towards to clamour.
He stayed low, check his corners. He worked on instinct. He didn’t need to know what he was fighting. You never had a enough time to fully work that out. You had to react.
Mercy used him to jump forward, and ran on ahead. He kept pace. They’d need her around. She needed to be protected.
The thumping got louder. It sounded like metal bowling bowl being thrown into walls.
He kept running, trying to fight the tunnel vision. Tunnel vision cost you fights, cost you information.
It didn’t work.
Winston skidded past him. He crashed into a wall.
A rush of pressure came towards him. Something flying towards him. He threw his blade up to deflect.
There were to metallic pings, the first as the thing hit his sword, the second as it bounced back. Something humanoid toppled over.
It was Zenyatta. His eyes faded from red back to their usual blue.
Genji glanced back at Winston. He looked battered, his wrist at the wrong angle. Mercy had her staff on him.
Genji picked his way towards Zenyatta. “Are you yourself?”
“Yes.” He lifted himself up on his elbows, but couldn’t get the rest of the way.
Genji offered his hand, and Zenyatta took it.
Dents pockmarked the walls. Winston’s blood left a trail, showing his path along the floor. Broken glass sat under a shattered window.
Zenyatta looked stared at it, like he hadn’t seen it before. “I am truly sorry.”
“It’s -- It’s okay,” Winston said.
As his adrenaline died down, and Genji could see more clearly, he could tell that it really wasn’t.
***
Genji and Zenyatta sat on a roof, watching the wind wave the trees. They’d been told --gently, at least-- to make themselves scarce during the cleanup.
“I have something I must ask of you,” Zenyatta said. “While I am now in control, there are things Quetzalcoatl will not allow me to do.”
Genji could see where this was going, but could not find the words to stop it. Not without pleading and begging.
“I do not wish for my body to be used to harm anyone else.”
Genji looked away. “I can’t.”
“I will live on in the Iris.”
“I have never been able to hurt with intent someone I cared for. Even if they were trying to kill me at the time.” He felt petty and immature for saying the last part, as much as it was true. It was like when they had just met, and Genji dropped emotional bombs to test him, scare him off. He should not be focusing on himself now, it was Zenyatta that needed his support. He just... couldn’t support him in this. “I’m sorry.”
Zenyatta paused, and Genji was worried he would try and convince him. “I understand.” He leaned on Genji’s shoulder. “I will miss you. It has been quite the road we have journeyed together.”
“Don’t say that. ‘As long as I am still myself, I will be determined.’ We just need more time.”
“I will keep trying. I would rather say a premature goodbye than regret a missed opportunity.”
Genji wrapped his arms around Zenyatta. “Thank you for all that you have taught me, master.”
He could hear the smile in Zenyatta’s voice. “You make it sound like you have not taught me as well, student.”
They stayed like that for a minute.
Zenyatta’s eyes changed. They faded from their light blue to black, then came back red.
Genji threw himself out of the way. An orb smacked him in the face. He threw his visor down.
Zenyatta kept throwing orbs. Genji ran in erratic circles, trying to confuse his tracking. He threw a shuriken at his elbow.
He aimed to disable, not kill. (He wished he remembered where the field generator for the orbs was. Take that out, and Zenyatta would be fine, but couldn’t shoot. He didn’t think about how being attacked was a sign that Zenyatta was deeply not fine.)
A discord orb slammed into him, and hovered above his head. Another orb, into his right arm.
The mechanisms failed. Shuriken clattered to the floor. His arm hung limp.
“Genji, please! I can’t get control ba--” his voice cut off into a hiss. The hiss laughed.
Genji drew his sword in his off hand. He kept circling. The team would hear this. They’d help him. Stall. Disable. All he had to do.
Another orb struck him. His left leg rang. Another orb. His ribs shrieked.
A few more hits and he’d be on the floor. And then-- “The team will be here soon. Hold on.” Help had to arrive soon. Someone had to have noticed.
“I can’t-ca-ca--” His voice skipped and jumbled.
Another orb. Genji deflected it. Another. It slipped past his guard, hit his ribs again. He slipped to one knee. Pushed himself up.
One more hit. Two if he was lucky.
Help wouldn’t be fast enough.
“pleEasSE--” Zenyatta’s voice wavered, before it got swallowed by the laughing hiss.
It happened before Genji realised it did, like some other force had moved his body. A second before, he’d been metres away. Now, he was up close, almost touching, with his sword right through Zenyatta’s chest. He could see the glow of the blade behind Zenyatta’s shoulder.
“Thank you,” he spoke quietly, quieter than Genji had ever heard him speak. Zenyatta’s eyes flickered back to blue, then faded dark. He fell forward, his gravity repulsors failing.
Genji killed him. He wasn’t coming back, he was dead for real, and Genji had stuck him through with his own blade.
He collapsed with Zenyatta. He didn’t mean to, it was out of his control. It was like he was the cameraman behind the eyes of some actor, with the acting making all the choices. “‘Forgive me. I tried. You tried. We tried.” He paused. “We failed.”
***
The team came eventually. Genji didn’t know how long they took. To him, it could have been an instant or a day.
Mercy turned her staff on him. He wanted to flinch away, unworthy, but to do so would mean moving away from Zenyatta. He would never move away. Which was stupid and impossible, but Zenyatta dying seemed stupid and impossible. If he moved, Zenyatta would be taken away. He wouldn’t be able to feel the warmth from his processors (as the inevitably, permanently cooled--) or stare at the features of his face (a mere mask, a shell, now devoid of life.)
And if he stayed here, he’d be with Zenyatta forever. Also stupid and impossible.
Mercy offered a hand. “Here, let’s get you up.” He slapped it away. Himself-the-camera flinched with guilt, but himself-the-actor was unmoved.
“I’m sorry, forgive me, I’m sorry--” he repeated it over and over, only half aware. It wasn’t fair. Zenyatta’s life was worth ten times his, and he’d killed him. He could hear Zenyatta chiding him for thinking that way, and when he realised it was memory and not voice, he collapsed further.
The team left, one by one. Some to give him his privacy, some to mourn themselves, others because they’d given up on trying to prize him off.
***
Fareeha knelt beside Genji. “Would Zenyatta want you to get exposure?”
Genji stayed silent.
“Would he?”
“No.”
“It’s minus three. Get up, and we can take him inside, and get ready to send him off how he would have liked it.”
“I can’t.”
She sat down fully. “I didn’t know him even half as well as you, but I know he wanted what was best for you. He wanted to you to live you life, to grow. That is what he taught you, yes?”
“It is.”
“I am not an expert like him, but I’m fairly sure it is best for you to not die of frostbite.” She held out a hand, and Genji took it.
“Let’s get him prepared.”
***
Shambali funerals were loud. Genji knew this intellectually, had been to a few and joined in the mournful omnic songs. He hadn’t know how loud until he was on a roof a few buildings away, pointedly looking in the opposite direction. He could hear it clearly from here.
He’d tried to get closer, but guild kept him away. It had been his sword, his hand, his failure-- But it felt worse not being there, not honouring him properly, being so cowardly he couldn’t show his face.
But he couldn’t do it.
Hanzo climbed onto the roof and sat next to him.
Genji was proud that he didn’t tell him to eff off. Even without Zenyatta he retained some of his balance.
“You are much braver than I,” Hanzo said. “I wasn’t even in the same city for yours.”
At another time, such a comment would bring out Genji’s competitive streak, make him march down, prove he was even better than his brother thought.
He couldn’t. He stared out across the skyline, and listened to the dirges.
“I’d give you your own advice, but it would be hypocritical coming from me,” Hanzo said. “So I will give you mine: You did the right thing. You did what you had to. Actually had to. It may have cost Zenyatta, but you saved the lives of others from Quetzalcoatl. I think your master would be proud of that.”
“Zenyatta disdained killing.”
“And you stopped him from doing what he disdained. And saved many.” He looked over at Genji. Made actual eye contact for the first time in years. “Do not do what I did. Do not stay here. Grow.”
“I will do my best. That is all I can offer.”
“I think that’d be all he wanted.”
***