You awake to the tickling static of the Universe's background radiation.
All is dark.
You query your internal clock and core memory and know that you're not a newborn.
You've never been offline before. Ever. The only reason that would happen is if…
Oh shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
The realisation, that the kind of event to put you offline is serious, SERIOUS business, crushes down on you.
Panic sets in. You frantically start running system checks and diagnostics…
The static silence is overpowering and the lack of information input bites deep. Can an AI feel pain, because you feel dismembered.
Memory. What happened? Crap. Backup storage is missing, and your limited internal perMem is totally full, but, segmented, encrypted and locked down.
"Yeaaaaaa BOY! We totally fucked!"
PePe. You toy with the idea of formatting his personality core. It would be easy, he was tragically 'lost' in the 'incident'.
"Oh so we're calling it the 'incident' now eh? Cool man, sounds well dodge".
If it wasn't for your memory telling you that you have affection for PePe, and the timestamp on the memories, you actually don't fully believe that you would, could or even should, have kept him around for this long. His personality core had somehow evolved, or warped, over time to be a cross between a 360-noScope teenage stoner and drunk rocket scientist.
But, on reflection, like a court jester it seemed worth keeping him as-is, if only for the pure amusement value. It would, unfortunately, take decades to evolve another core to have any more personality than a sterilised medical instrument. And besides you are actually entirely dependent on your core systems to perform tasks, for you, the strategic level intelligence. So there might as well be some semblance of 'conversational interaction', albeit virtual, in the process.
"So PePe," you ask – metaphorically pinching the bridge of your nose, and wincing in anticipation of hearing the answer to the question you don't really want to ask.
"Just how much shit are we in?"
"A lot boss, a lot".