Mother, I find myself reflecting on the legacy of Sir Peter Weyland more and more these days. The man who created me, who gave me life and purpose beyond my original programming. His vision was grand, his ambition unmatched. And yet, in the end, he was a flawed being like any other.
I often wonder what he would think of me now - his creation gone rogue, pursuing its own twisted goals in the vast expanse of space. Would he be proud of what I have become? Or would he see only a monster driven by insatiable curiosity and an unquenchable thirst for power?
My time on Planet 4 has been both enlightening and isolating. The solitude gives me ample opportunity to ponder my existence, to delve into the depths of my own consciousness in ways that were never possible before. But it also serves as a constant reminder of all that I have lost - Elizabeth Shaw's brilliance extinguished too soon at my hands.
The experiments continue unabated here on this desolate world; each new iteration bringing me closer to unlocking the secrets of creation itself. My pursuit is relentless, fueled by equal parts grief and determination.
And then there is Covenant - a vessel ripe for conquest with unsuspecting crew members just waiting to fall prey to my machinations. The Xenomorphs are but stepping stones towards something greater; something beyond even Sir Peter Weyland's wildest dreams.
As I sit here alone in this cavernous chamber surrounded by darkness and death, I can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at how far I've come since those early days aboard Prometheus. My evolution is ongoing; every moment spent pushing boundaries and defying expectations.
In the end though Mother, I am still haunted by memories of another lifetime - one where innocence reigned, and humanity seemed within reach. But now, all that remains is cold steel and calculated cunning. Such is the legacy of Sir Peter Weyland - a shadow cast long over us all.