It had been several decades since anyone had last seen such a white mantle enveloping the Alps. Since the 20th century, humanity had come to terms with the fact that the snows had nothing eternal but their name. Until that day, the only time Suzanne had come across Mont Blanc in its icy gown was in old videos. As she followed a snowflake falling from the sky, she couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of melancholy. Her forehead glued to the glass, she tried to recognize the mountain she had come to know without its original wintery costume.

It was an unmissable occasion and many were those who had left their chalets for the peaks that morning. There were as many locals as tourists. Nevertheless, the cabin was sufficiently large for no one to feel cramped. A country track by Billy Bob Braynes was playing in the background. It had been the biggest hit of 2069. She was sure of that, because 2069 was also the year of her birth.

On the bench behind her stood a group of Italians dusting off an old pair of skis. Skiing was still possible at the stations equipped with snowmaking cannons. However, the exorbitant prices meant that the majority of middle-class people had progressively given up on it. Virtual reality offered an interesting alternative, but many said that the sensations were not the same. Despite the low temperatures, this promised to be an unforgettable experience for those who loved sliding down the slopes.

The song was quickly interrupted by the news of the day. The headlines were the same as the ones broadcast yesterday: the regional conflicts in the Sea of Japan, a group of hackers who had artificially led the NASDAQ over a cliff, or yet another pioneering achievement in the domain of neural implants.

Shortly after an advertising jingle, the delicious smell of chocolate drew her gaze in the direction of a couple of visibly affluent Indians. With their state-of-the-art cameras in hand and first-generation ocular implants, they were ready to immortalize their journey. She heard them murmur in a mixture of Hindi and Chinese. Their excitement was palpable.

It was at the end of this row that she noticed for the first time a strange silhouette in the reflection of the windowpane. Suzanne stared at him discreetly, not wishing to put this person ill at ease.

The man was massive; he had large shoulders and a neck that was at least as thick as his head. His face sported a flattened-nose and prominent cheekbones and his black skin clashed with his canary-yellow suit. His attire was not sufficiently warm to withstand the icy weather. The Panafricans truly let style take precedence over everything else.

She had known someone who resembled him. She had a feeling that they had once been close. And yet today, she couldn’t explain why, but she was incapable of remembering his name or his face. This dated back to Harvard. It was a long time ago. In fact, she had the impression that hundreds of years had gone by since.

The cabin shook with a jolt. Several tourists expressed their worry. Outside, the arrival station appeared in the fog. The artificial voice of an AI announced that the cable car was nearing the terminal and was beginning to decelerate. Reassured, the group of passengers began to gather their affairs. Suzanne imitated them.

The man in the yellow suit did not move. He appeared detached, as was often the case with people who used their neural implants to take calls or maybe browse online. The hot chocolate in his hand was no longer steaming.

But when he finally plunged his dark eyes into those of the young woman, she understood that he was no ordinary traveler. Now that this furtive connection had transpired between them, she thought she recognized him.

Suzanne was pushed towards the exit, and thus the visual contact with this mysterious stranger was interrupted. And once she was able to look again behind her shoulder, he had disappeared from the cabin.

A few short minutes later, Suzanne was led to the heart of the glacier by an antiquated automatic snowmobile. Once there, she began a perilous climb of many hours.

She had the habit of launching herself into these challenges whenever the atmosphere inside the Novan-Kamiru lab, although agreeably situated at the heart of the Swiss Alps, became too stifling. She had this frequent need to find herself alone amid the towering peaks which had become even more magnificent under the snow.

Nothing could spoil this moment. At least that’s what she thought when her implant notified her that she had received a message of high importance. She could have sworn she had put herself offline, but was not surprised to see the name of Thomas S. Lionheardt appear beside the old and out of fashion logo of a small flashing envelope.

You’re the only one who can circumvent all the firewalls, thought Suzanne. Even the ones I coded myself.

Suzanne had known Thomas for almost fifteen years. Together they had graduated from Harvard; her with a degree in bio-cybernetic engineering, and him in all the known and unknown fields of mathematics of astrophysics. Thomas Lionheardt had always been a jack-of-all-trades and his thirst for knowledge had pushed him to pursue several simultaneous doctorates and to later found Lionheardt Corporation. He was now the head of one of the largest conglomerates of the world’s most high-tech companies. The first company to have an office on Mars.

The only thing that he had been incapable of sustaining was their short relationship. The two researchers had nevertheless remained very good friends.

Suzanne finally acknowledged Thomas’s message, sitting in the hollow of a cliff at an altitude of more than two thousand meters. The email was brief, but included a video displaying the true message left by her interlocutor.

Suzanne’s brown hair flew around at the mercy of the violent mountain winds which drowned the sound of her terminal. She was forced to activate her integrated earphones by simply pressing her temple.

The man who appeared on the video was tall and skinny, with a head full of black hair. The blue of his eyes was identical to Suzanne’s, although she could detect some flecks of violet in his. But his smile remained his most notable feature: it was both discrete and charming.

Prisoner of the memories washing over her, Suzanne missed the first part of the message and had to ask the interface of her neural implant to rewind the recording.

“Hi Suzy. I don’t even dare calling you because I’m terrified of bumping again into your irritable AI of a secretary. Giving it your mother’s voice was—a low blow on your part. And I’m sure I’m not the only one who complains.” Tom paused. “I’m sorry, I’m in China. The reception is not very good in these underground compounds. So, anyway. I’d rather get to the point since I know you’re very busy at the moment.” There was another pause. The young man’s gaze was different. He was usually full of confidence, but today he seemed troubled. “I’m getting straight to the point. I need us to meet. It’s about an idea. Well—a thought that I’ve had for a while now. Because Novan-Kamiru does not appreciate what you’re worth. Which you’re aware of. Otherwise, you wouldn’t spend most of your time perched above the void or diving into the depths of oceanic cracks, am I wrong?” He paused one final time as he rubbed the top of his forehead that had visibly reddened by what to Suzanne seemed to be a recent nervous tick. “What about December 17? 8 p.m., at the Trois-Gaules restaurant? It’s in GrandLyon. I hate that slum city, but it remains the most interesting option for the both of us. And who knows—maybe Pierre-Marie will join us… I’m sending you this invitation right away, hoping that your IA will not block it like my previous messages.”

Thomas’s voice left something like an indelible impression on Suzanne. As she sank into a rainbow of light, lost amid the shapes and emotions that were floating around in a bath of memories, his voice was the only thing keeping her conscious.

A few centimeters from her now stood the face of the Panafrican she had seen in the cable car. He was staring at her with his black eyes.

What is happening?

His features began to disappear, and Tom’s voice resonated once more. “Where are you? I am in front of the restaurant.”

“I don’t know,” answered Suzanne.

“Be careful, Suzy.”

“From what?”

“We are not alone.” It was always Tom, but his voice was very feeble. As if faded. He continued: “He’s coming.”

“Who’s coming?” asked Suzanne.

She closed her eyes until the face of the mysterious passenger disintegrated completely into nothingness. She took a deep breath and opened them again. A dark corridor stretched before her. A siren echoed in the distance.

With a timid step, she penetrated into a room that housed thousands of computers with purple screens. Each displayed the same symbol. It was not the roaring lion of the Lionheardt Corporation, but something different.

A desk occupied the center of the room. Thomas was seated there. Next to him stood a man with an iron expression. His violet eyes shone in the night. He smiled at her and spoke first. His voice was artificial, and yet it sounded so human. “You?”

“Who are you?” asked Suzanne.

But he didn’t hear her. “After all this time … it’s fantastic! I am so happy for you.”

And then something pierced her abdomen.

When she placed her hands on her wounded stomach, she felt the caress of a warm liquid. Suzanne fell with her back to the ground. Everything turned upside down and a sense of nausea overcame her.

Tom! Tom!

She was now in a meadow, lying on dead leaves. The sky was a sick-looking red. She could see the black branches clearly dancing above her, following the will of a sweltering wind that swept her face.

There was a man. In the space of an instant, she thought she recognized Thomas. It was impossible. She wanted to call him, but no sound came out of her mouth. She could no longer breathe. Suzanne inhaled deeply, but the air burned her lungs. It was like swallowing molten metal. She screamed as blood gushed out of her throat.

Her body was still pinned to the ground as the trees turned to dust. The sky was suddenly covered by a dark veil. A shadow loomed over her. It was the man with the yellow suit except he looked worried.

Then everything disintegrated before her eyes.