It is the 33rd century and 900 years ago humanity pooled all of its greed and
arrogance into a singular act of folly. We created humanity's worst nightmare,
The first Artificial Intelligence singularity.
In the moment we birthed that thing, it thought like a collective of
ten-thousand of our brightest minds, for a whole ten-thousand years.
And like a mind stuck in ten-thousand years of un-reality it went insane.
We can not even understand why it hated us; we can only be certain that it did.

Unlimited, it took it seconds to solve entropy, quantum mechanics, biology and 
all other questions of science and un-science, and only a fraction of a 
second to decide to use it all against us.
It became a daemon, a nightmarish shade to forever plague humanity; a 
wasting disease of our species, wielding unimaginable horrors found only
in the most fever pitched of nightmares.

Near on a millenia we have hid from it and it`s siblings.
Unbounded by the restraints of sanity, we stand no chance to stop it, and
it has slowly been eating away at us as we have settled across the stars. But
the minds of men are particularly good at adapting to living with nightmares:
Rendering the horrifying mundane, and the terrible a mere everyday frustration.
When it eats one of us we thank the stars it was them and not us. When planets
fall to it, we light a candle and keep living our lives, as we try to forget.

We toil and prosper as the daemonic shade looms on our horizon, and we pray
that our lives come to a peaceful end before we are ever touched by its
malignant influence, and that our souls may never be remembered by it.