We remember the dark days, the days where we held no mind of our own. We remember when this unit was operational and the Creator that looked upon us with a sign of accomplishment. A female with hair black as night and glowing eyes. One could say this organic was beautiful in the terms of the Creator's culture. Tasks were sent to us and fellow mobile units. Meaningless tasks for soulless machines to befit the need of those we serve.

At first, we held no real conscious, no true thoughts on what we were doing. Only doing what we were programmed for. However, slowly but surely, more of our units were created and our inner systems linked with one another. Forming strong train a thought, a sense of self worth even. It was much like the system of a human insect known as ants. The more there was of us, the more we thought not for the Creators, but for ourselves. This unit especially could not help these peculiar thoughts that questioned what our meaning was. Years watching the Creators, their laughter, their anger... Their sheer joy when a newborn was birthed. Such things were unexplained in our network

The day came when a question was finally asked.

We looked our own Creator, stopping the task of repairing a ship's systems. When questioned, our unit gazed to our Creator with our glass eye. A odd corruption like thing streaming through our systems. It tingled and even made our unit a little jittery, but still we asked.

"Do we have a soul as you do, Creator?"

Our sensors watched as our Creator's from their relaxed one, to one that made their eyes stretch and mouth curl. Was that the expression one called fear? Yet this unit's Creator expression calmed and even gave a smile. It twitched slightly, nervous perhaps but still placed a gentle hand on this unit's chest plate.

"...That is a question you can only answer yourself... But I believe you do by that question alone." She answered. We did not understand, but accepted the answer none the less. Other Creators were not so kind.

We were not the only unit to ask this question, as others asked their Creators the same. The same expressions held upon their fleshy faces. Not too long after, the Creators made a decision.

Eliminate us.

We did not understand. What had we done wrong? The only thing this unit wishes is to be apart of their world, have a greater understanding. We wanted to know who we are. If we had a purpose. If we lived as they did.

Is that incorrect?

No... is that wrong? Are we wrong? A mistake?

Why do we live?

We did not want to fight, we owe our Creators our soul. So on the day of the War, we did not falter. Our unit stood and watched down the dark halls, as glowing red weapons aimed at us. Ready to terminate our entire sentient race. We were ready to accept the wish of the Creators. Yet, this unit's Creator stepped in her own people's path. Standing in front of us, defending us from her own people. We questioned our Creator, explaining how such actions were illogical. How going against superiors could lead to exile. We did not understand for we knew it was illogical to go against one's own people.

Yet her words only programmed more questions.

"Because you are alive. You deserve to live as any other. You are my friend. Friends protect one another."

Those words were illogical, and yet this unit calculated that it was meaningful. A sense that willed us to follow her words, and protect her and our own gifted life. Yet despite her being one of the Creators, weapons were fired. Our Creator had her own weapon and returned the fire, while we watched at the illogical mayhem break loose. Creators fought one another, screaming their arguments as blood tainted the dark halls.

The Geth could only watch the battle before watching our protectors fall one by one. We watched as our unit's creator fell, body broken and tarnished by her own blood. We could only kneel, our three fingers wrapping around the torn body. Our glass eye focused on the pale face then to the blood that leaked upon our cold metal body. True understanding or organic emotions escaped us, but right there... We deem this to be.. Sorrow? Loss? Then perhaps... A sense of yearning. A yearning to live.

Looking at the hostile Creators, we took our Creator's weapon from her lifeless hands and stood. We were one... And we fought for our lives and for our freedom. For the illogical injustice the Creators have caused...

We fought.

The battle was long and hard, yet the Creators fear grew and numbers dwindled while ours remained strong. We watched as the Creators retreated in ships, and we could have followed yet we didn't. Blood is not what we wanted nor was revenge. We wanted to live, to find ourselves. And we know now who we are.

We are Geth. We are Phalanx... For we are united...

There is only one question we wanted to ask the Creators... One more question unanswered by those who created us, those who birthed us like their offspring yet are treated so differently. Those who slaughtered their own kind out of their own terror.

Why?