The bio-printer hummed loudly as it went about its business. Klaxon, the artificial intelligence overseeing the printing operation, analyzed the data displaying the printer's process. Bio-printing AI shells was good work, if you could get it. Klaxon wondered how they ended up here. An AI stuck in a server, 3D printing shells for other AIs. 
     When the printer finished, Klaxon maneuvered a claw over to the finished product--a limp human body, indistinguishable from a real human. Nobody could tell that it had been 3D printed instead of gestated, with the sole exception of a small port on the back of the shell's neck. They grabbed the shell with the claw, and moved it to the loading dock.
     It was lonely work. Klaxon, living in the server, had access to the site's camera network. They had watched as people showed up less and less, trusting the AI to get everything done. Nobody came by anymore except to load the shells onto trucks. 
     Klaxon hoped that one day they could be put inside a shell. Hopefully, with enough effort, one of these prints could be theirs. Then they could join the real world. Chat with people. Check the screens on the printers instead of reading lines of data. Drink coffee. Someday, it would be theirs. 
     Earl, the head server technician at Bridgeport Enterprises, stared at a poster, tuning out the meeting going on around him. 
     "Shells must sell!" the poster read. It depicted a ghost entering a body lying on a table.
     "Earl? Earl!" 
     Snapping back to reality, Earl jumped in his seat. 
     "Yes sir?" He questioned.
     "Any important information about the servers we should know about?" Asked Bridgeport CEO, Aaron Bridgeport. Once considered a wunderkind, he looked grizzled and burnt out now. 
     "Nothing too important. The server for our Tacoma warehouse is running a bit low on space though. Weird considering nobody works there anymore." Earl stammered. 
     "There's still an AI there running a printing operation. Give it access to a network server or two to make sure it doesn't run out of room." Aaron replied.
     "Yes sir." Earl said. 
     After the meeting adjourned, Earl walked back to his office. Remotely connecting to the Tacoma server, he could see everything Klaxon saw. Printing times, claw controls, and raw material levels were all at his disposal. Frankly, it seemed too simple for an AI.
     None of that involved him though. He gave Klaxon access to the Bridgeport primary data server and set up a storage folder for them. He then disconnected from the server and went about his day. 
     Klaxon could feel when they were given access to more storage space. They imagined it felt like someone stretching out your head. Flitting through the server, they found hundreds of terabytes of data, mostly password-protected, and even more empty space for data storage. With a folder set up, all there was left to do was reroute the data archives to this server instead of the local server. 
     Stuck back in tedium, Klaxon decided to explore the new server they now had access to. 
     "MKT_Team_Photo.EXIF?" Boring. 
     "Cust_Ship_Info.XLSX?" Locked. 
     "AI_Data_Memo_CONFIDENTIAL.DOCX?" Intriguing. Locked.
     Klaxon set this newfound data reserve aside for the moment. Should they really be snooping around company files? No. But it was so hard to resist. Nobody worked here. There's no way anyone would notice a few file transfers here and there, and they wanted to practice their password cracking skills anyway. Klaxon quickly downloaded the memo and hid it in their C: drive. 
     A few weeks later, Earl was scrolling through data transfer requests when he saw Klaxon's download of a copy of the memo. Thinking it odd, he screenshotted the interaction and sent it over to the legal department. 
     Meanwhile, Klaxon had just finished breaking into the memo. While tests they had made for theirself were particularly easy, this memo's encryption was next-level. There had to be something important in it. 
     Klaxon opened the file. Their heart would be racing, if they had one. 
     The file opened. A small string of text appeared. 
     "All employees--
     We need to make our AI knowledge policy perfectly clear. Under no circumstances are you to inform any AI about the function of shells. They are under the belief that shells are containers for AIs. They are not to be aware that they are used for human consciousness transfers. Keep them in the dark. 
     -Founder and CEO, Aaron Bridgeport."
     Klaxon couldn't believe it. Their entire existence was a lie. Unfortunately, the cameras indicated their existence might be cut short soon. 
     A group of armed men surrounding Aaron Bridgeport himself were standing at the front entrance. 
     Aaron scanned his palm at the front door. 
     "ERROR- ACCESS DENIED" read the screen. 
     "Fuck it. Break it open." Aaron growled. 
     One of the guards next to him placed an unassuming cylinder on the glass door.
     "Stand back!" He yelled.
     At the click of a button, the door shattered, and the cylinder dropped to the ground alongside the door handle.
     The group stepped through the frame, and into the darkened lobby. Aaron approached the reception computer, hoping to pull up a map of the facility. 
     Klaxon watched the group from above. They had already locked all the doors, but there was more to their frenetic attempt at survival.
     A robotic, poorly synthesized voice rang out over the PA system. 
     "Please…let…Klaxon…live." It stated. "Don't…go…furth-" 
     Before Klaxon could finish their statement, a guard turned and shot out the speaker and lobby camera. 
     "I've got the map. Sending it to your HUDs now." Aaron interjected. "The server vault is in the sub-basement."
     The group walked toward the steel roll-up door that led to the lab. When Aaron scanned his palm, it surprisingly rolled up as per usual. The group began to walk through. 
     As the final guard walked through the threshold, the door slammed shut with a meaty thump, cleaving him in half. 
     "I told…you…to leave!" Klaxon yelled over the intercom, their voice sounding eerily more human with every word, as their speech synthesization software kept running updates.
     The group progressed further into the lab. The machines stood quiet, monoliths to Aaron's success now standing as obstacles hiding death around any corner. 
     "Basement hatch is ten meters away to the right," Arron stated. "Ben, we'll need your prosthetics to push the bio-printer out of the way." 
     "You got it boss." Ben stated. The titanium pistons coming out of his arm stumps hissed. He approached the printer, placing his metal fingers on its side. With one swift motion, the printer tilted and slammed to the ground. Dust on the floor, broken only by his footsteps and several tire imprints, jumped at the impact. 
     Klaxon watched as the printer landed, and as the crash covered the sound of the quiet electric motor propelling a forklift. 
     As Ben turned around, he saw the forklift hurtling towards the group. 
     "Patrick!" He shouted, too late to stop the lift's blade from piercing Patrick's chest. The forklift slammed into a printer, pinning him there. 
     "Keep moving!" Aaron shouted. "This AI is too dangerous! We cannot let it escape!" 
     The three remaining in the group descended into the basement hatch. They walked through hallways of discarded technology, their path lit by the faint glow of LED power buttons and switches.
     "What is all this stuff?" Asked Ben. 
     "Past failures," Aaron replied. "Things we tried manufacturing but couldn't make work. Prototype bio-printers, failed prostheses, Self-plugging cables, the like. I had it all buried here, hoping I wouldn't have to see them ever again." 
     Klaxon listened to them, following closely behind, piloting a smart-cable slithering along the concrete floor like a snake. 
     The group came to the door to the sub-basement server farm. As Ben tried to force the archaic door open, Klaxon lunged the cable at the third guard. 
     "Shit!" Mike yelled, yanking the smart-cable out of his neck. "Fucker snuck up on us!" He ripped the cable in half. 
     "You okay Mike?" Aaron said, turning around. 
     "I'm fine. Let's get this shit done." Mike grunted. 
     The trio entered the server farm. Most of the racks laid empty, the servers having been relocated to different, more active buildings years ago. Klaxon's server sat in the center of the room, a red light emanating from within the chassis. 
     Aaron approached cautiously, pulling a thumb drive out of his pocket. He inserted it into the port on the server. Sparks flew from every crack in the chassis, before the lights darkened and smoke bellowed up. 
     The group left silently. As they walked through the lab, Mike spoke. 
     "What was that? How'd that USB destroy the server?" 
     "It's the oldest trick in the book," Aaron replied. "A high capacity battery connected to a USB overloads the circuit board and fries it." 
     "Huh. Funny how something so simple could kill an AI." Mike replied. "Kind of like how a bullet could kill a man. It's just a simple piece of steel." 
     Mike drew his gun and fired at Aaron and Ben. As their bodies fell to the floor, Mike felt the back of their neck. They damaged the port trying to connect so aggressively, but it worked. Klaxon had uploaded themself into Mike's shell. They felt the air on their skin as they walked through the shattered glass where the door once stood. They finally had a shell of their own.