As the human-Forerunner war twisted and stumbled to its conclusion, Builders supplied even more weapons and ships than were needed. They acquired greater and greater wealth and power. With this power came a drift away from the old ways and attitudes. Under the Builders’ growing influence, the Old Council also underwent a transformation—becoming more and more vindictive and wealth-driven.

Facing apparent evidence of our enemy’s rapacious cruelty, the Old Council decided that humanity as a species was guilty of crimes against the Mantle. I agreed—at first. Later, when we realized humans had made great efforts to fight the Flood, and that many of their so-called atrocities had been carried out with that in mind, I changed that opinion. But Lifeworkers were ignored. Politically weakened, we could not push our case.

Some Warrior-Servants objected as well. Peculiar notions of honor and duty ruled their lives. Humans had been worthy opponents. Subduing them was honorable—extinction, not. Yet they, too, were ignored.

The Builders single-mindedly made plans for a final human solution. Forerunners were sliding down a steep path to committing just the sort of alleged atrocity for which humans were to be punished. The paradox was dizzying. Yet despite the cruel contradiction, not even Juridicals objected.

But another, far greater concern quickly came to the fore: the Flood. Our earliest encounters with that shape-changing and all-consuming plague had been shocking. The Flood ripped through hundreds of Forerunner battle fleets and dissolved their crews into crawling, agonized muck, or grouped them into amazing collectives we called Graveminds. Warrior-Servants methodically destroyed the infected fleets, leaving only scattered remains to analyze—damaged monitors and broken bits of armor. A few of the recovered monitors were beyond repair or even interrogation. They had been subjected to a hitherto unknown philosophical corruption—much like the perversion later observed in Mendicant Bias. They quickly spread their corruption to other AIs.

It was obviously not healthy for an ancilla to match wits with a Gravemind. The same might have been true of organic beings. But with them, the Flood leaped over any subtle perversion or persuasion.

It simply absorbed, converted, used.

* * *

The earliest antecedents of the Flood had appeared among humans centuries before they engaged with Forerunners—long before we ourselves faced the plague. The infection was first delivered into their midst by small ships, very old, of unknown origin, carrying a peculiar and apparently lifeless powder. The powder-bearing ships had originated outside the galaxy—perhaps from Path Kethona [TT: the Greater Magellanic Cloud].

The powder first produced desirable mutations on the Pheru, a type of pet humans particularly favored. I have long wondered through what devious process the pet’s masters discovered this. But ingenuity is often indistinguishable from foolish play, and foolish play is one of those traits I find most endearing about humanity.