Everything had turned dark. Suzanne felt a curious sensation, as if she was being lifted from the pool in which she had been immersed. A cold wind caressed her body as it turned upright. Then, an electric current ran along her spine up to her brain. Finally, an unpleasant buzzing sound appeared at the same time as some sort of interference distorted her thoughts.

The grids of the cyberspace did not appear immediately. It took some time before gray lines emerged on the horizon. They formed complex shapes first, and then came textures, sound, and finally sensations. The world was taking shape around her. There was nothing but a bed where a young woman with brown hair was sleeping.

An alarm clock rang. The alarm was shrill and tore her eardrums. Suzanne had never liked luminous or olfactory solutions to waking up. To draw her out of the land of dreams, she needed the brutality of the equipment of yesteryear. Tom had offered her this old mechanical model. With a slow gesture, she turned it off.

“Tom?”

No one answered. Suzanne opened her eyes. She was in a room with black walls. By reflex, she snapped her fingers. The partitions changed and revealed glass walls. Behind her, she could see sections of a snowy mountain. She felt cold. The Puy mountains instantly transformed into a tropical beach with fine sand, a blue sea, and coconut trees. A perfect postcard setting.

But when Suzanne jumped out of bed, the idyllic landscape turned purple. A gray and sad earth took shape. It was covered in twisted trees, the bark pitch black. A terrible pain sawed through her skull.

“Byte. Byte, there is something wrong!”

Byte’s metallic voice answered her, but she could not understand it. It was as if she were speaking through a glass pane. Nauseated, Suzanne collapsed on the bed. When she fell back into the white sheets, she felt a tingling sensation along her skin. The blanket turned blue and began to envelop her until she felt suffocated.

“Byte! Byte!” Suzanne shouted.

“It’s alright. Calm down.”

“I’m not used to…”

“I see. Don’t worry. Both of us, as human consciousness, can only be spectators of the construct for the moment. Only Jinko has access to it. Nothing can happen to you!”

Suzanne took a deep breath. She felt a warm body next to her. The liquid from the pool was finally taking effect. But in cyberspace, she was still alone in the middle of her bed with silk sheets.

“Here you go. First, just inhale and exhale gently. Relax…”

The cyborg’s touch reassured her. She was no longer cold, but her whole body was shaking. After this new breathing exercise, her pulse returned to normal. The walls were once again fashioned after a Pacific island.

“What exactly are we looking for?”

“This special and secured construct is here to look for any evidence that Thomas Lionheardt is still roaming the cyberspace today,” Byte told her.

“I shouldn’t have told you that I’m still in touch with him,” Suzanne said. “I feel like I’m being used as bait now.”

“Trust us.”

Again, she felt an alarm ring. But it was no longer the alarm clock. The shrill sound of sirens echoed in the huge secret hangar where Suzanne now stood. The metal and concrete walkways that crisscrossed the darkness stood over unimaginable depths where underground factories were located. Only some discreet red lights could be seen from below, flickering in the darkness. The immeasurable mechanisms and cogs gave off a thunderous roar as if she were inside a buzzing beehive.

Heavy metallic shocks layered on top of the roaring sounds, making the enigmatic depths tremble. A burning breath was the last to arrive, invading the heights at regular intervals, like a rattle. It was hot in the compound. A drop of sweat beaded on her forehead, skimming along her pale skin, before disappearing at the level of her neck under a thin suit white like snow.

From her metal platform, she ran to one of the footbridges which led her towards an altitude where broad swirling ventilators preceded the titanic pipelines.

The ventilation and cooling systems were the only entities to have any contact with the surface. They were used to evacuate the nauseating fumes coming from the underground factory, with which her genetics laboratory shared the compound, while propelling inside a luxurious filtered air that smelt as fresh as the winds of winter.

She didn’t have time to enjoy the show, so she continued on her way, hastening her pace until she reached a building suspended in the void. No sooner had the young woman set foot in front of the building’s airlock that a pleasant music warned her the doors were opening. There, a security guard from the laboratory was waiting for her. Behind him, an antique radio was transmitting the latest news.

The security guard greeted her. He was a small, fat man with a mechanical arm and enhanced eyes. He was the perfect representation of sloppiness.

“Professor. Were you at the Hive this early in the morning? A capsule is ready for the vats at—”

“Good morning. Yes, but I need to get to Mr. Lionheardt immediately. Can a capsule take me there directly?”

“With all due respect, with the news that just came out, I doubt that Herr Lionheardt is willing to—”

“Do you have a capsule for me?”

“You’re the boss, Miss Courtois. The C-36 is an expressway for the research and development department, it’s already in its place on the dock.”

Suzanne immediately headed in the direction of the airlocks of the transportation system. Once there, she activated her safe conduct at the same time as the guard. This double security measure, once lifted, allowed her to access the dock of the compound’s underground Loop.

“Don’t forget to clench your teeth at every bend!” shouted the guard behind her.

But she had stopped listening already. In her head, the morning news was playing on a loop. Her personal AI was struggling to filter out calls from reporters and concerned family members. The headlines promised an unprecedented uproar. But she couldn’t believe it.

When she arrived in the transportation pod, she cleared the virtual desktop flooded with pop-ups of recent events. Her eyes rested for a few seconds on the last one:

Thomas S. Lionheardt: Instigator of a Solar System-Wide Holocaust.

“Idiot! What have you done?” she exclaimed.

Before she could activate the capsule, a man grabbed her by the arm. It was the colossus with ebony skin. He had a yellow suit on and looked worried.

In his right hand, he held a yellow umbrella that he twirled around until it blocked the door from closing.

“Suzanne! Suzanne!” he shouted, spilling his hot chocolate on the floor. “We have to talk! Immédiatement!” His voice sounded like an echo, but Suzanne couldn’t understand the rest of his words. A vision of her, naked in an indigo pool, flashed through her mind. She was losing her mind.

“Pas le temps! Later!” What did this man want from her? She could not remember his name. She dismissed him. He did not insist. That seemed wrong. Out of step.

“Suzanne? We have something. Hang on!” It was a woman’s voice, but metallic. She too disappeared.

The capsule armed itself and sped through the heart of the compound at lightning speed. In less than four seconds, it had already reached the command center where the Lionheardt Corporation founder’s office was located.

Dozens of corps and lawyers were trying to make their way through the various docks in the pod station. This roaring wave was currently held back by a security cordon of over-armed cockroach-like robots. The V1 Sentinels were unyielding mini-fortresses. Steel shields and self-propelled guns jealously guarded the entrance.

Suzanne identified herself to one of the Sentinels, who asked her to wait for a human officer. The latter appeared behind armored doors and invited the young woman to join him. “Your badge guarantees you access to the control area, but I doubt you will be able to speak with Thomas.”

When he took off his helmet, Suzanne could see Martins’ face, the head of the compound’s security. He was a tall, bald man with a prominent jaw. Like all the veterans coming from the Royal Navy after the fall of the United Kingdom, Martins was a tough cookie. But he had always been extremely courteous and honest with her. Today, he looked worried sick. “Do you believe all this? That story about biochemical warheads being revealed by hackers?” He bit his lips. “They hit us with programs that ignore all firewalls. How the hell did they get through our barriers? Bloody hell! I swear, it looks like they were growing them from the inside!”

Suzanne hesitated. Of course, she believed it. But these missiles were supposed to counteract global warming. She didn’t understand this holocaust story. “That’s why I have to see him,” she insisted.

“Don’t be surprised if this cunt of Lionheardt spins some tale for you too. With all due respect, if this turns out to be true I’ll drag the son of a bitch by the scruff of the neck to fucking Geneva myself.”

“Chances are we’ll all end up there.”

The doors finally opened into a new, bustling hallway. Financial executives and engineers were milling about under the shrill sound of sirens. The huge doors to Tom’s office were closed and guarded by two Sentinels twice the size of those on the dock.

After thanking Martins, Suzanne walked with a heavy step towards two V2 Sentinels. The titanium monsters moved aside as the doors opened.

Thomas Lionheardt stood in the room bathed in the purple light of the computer screens. He was surrounded by two more over-armed robots. His eyes were glued to the main monitor overlooking the vast control console at the heart of the compound. On the monitor, the president of the United Nations was addressing a crowd of journalists. The sound was muted. Tom followed the speech through his earphones. The circled triangle symbol was swirling on the other screens.

“Global warming, huh?” Suzanne said.

He didn’t move. His eyes were now fixed on the Secretary General, but his glassy gaze meant that he was lost in his own thoughts. “Those hackers…” he muttered.

“I don’t think they matter now, Tom.”

“I went after the very heart of the problem! They wanted me to protect the planet. But I explained to them that you can’t save their planet unless you sacrifice something else.”

“Something else? Mankind is something else? Are you insane, Tom?”

“Mankind? These stupid, fat and useless idlers…”

Susan did not recognize Tom’s words. Something was wrong. She had hoped for more clarifications from him, but a violent jolt shook the room. Several screens went out, along with the ceiling maps that had been emanating a dim white light. Now the room was bathed in the red glow of the emergency LEDs.

At the back of the room, Jéricho’s purple eyes lit up. He was returning to its physical form. The V2s stood motionless at their master’s side. Its inexpressive eyes pierced Suzanne’s. It had the same look as Tom. The same lack of humanity mixed with a deep sense of hatred.

“The orbital backups are complete. The compound is sealed. Confined from cyberspace. The project continues, however,” Tom said as he sat down in his chair.

Suzanne let out a nervous laugh. “Pursue? By keeping us all prisoners? Haven’t you noticed the commotion behind those armored doors,” Suzanne shouted, but only the Sentinels reacted. “They’re going to unleash the army on you, Thomas!”

This information had just been displayed in one of the hologram banners above the reporter who was now dissecting the Secretary General’s speech on-screen. Another indicated that an intervention was taking place on the outskirts of Lucerne, where the European compound and one of the three missiles, the Josias-01, were located.

A second, less violent explosion echoed through the corridors of the center. Martins’ face immediately appeared on one of the monitors. “Euro-Commandos have broken into the main entrance of the compound. I no longer have access to the armored doors. Did you initiate this takeover, sir? I suggest you cooperate. They have not sent any humans this time.”

The security chief’s question went unanswered, as Jéricho, certainly under Tom’s orders, cut off any outside links. The screens now displayed the status of the compound and a detailed map of the Josias missile. Various holograms showed the huge hangar where the monstrous missile rested through the thousands of cameras set up along the factory. The robot workers were currently transferring it into its silo.

“The United Nations has cut my budget. This project runs on my personal reserves and a consortium of private funds passing through the free ports of Deimos.”

Suzanne was surprised at the news.

Tom did not take his eyes off his missile. He was silent, and this time it was Jéricho who answered: “The project that is currently under attack by the Secretary General and public opinion is in fact a pure product of the United Nations and several industrial conglomerates. Thanks to the intervention of these web anarchists, it is now no longer necessary to hide from you that the basic plan was to eliminate the filth of civilization in order to start over on new foundations without wasting our last remaining earthly resources.”

“The utopia of Mars led them to this choice. But those clownish political upstarts soon realized that they were not included in the equation either,” Tom added, still focused on how the missile transfer was progressing.

“I thought smart and rich people like you could control them,” Suzanne replied.

“I guess not. Fifteen billion angry human beings have changed the game. They obviously don’t care about the race to the stars. Filling their stomachs is the pinnacle of their existence.”

“I can’t let you do this,” Suzanne cried. “I know you can’t do this.”

“Everything is in place, Thomas,” Jéricho cut in.

“Good. Do we have full control of the V1 and V2 Sentinels?” asked Tom. He looked away from his screens for the first time. She could see the scar around his scalp.

“Martins personally controls only the P500 V1 models in the cordon positioned on level 17, so on the deck.”

“Excellent. Let’s keep the military from spoiling the party.”

“What party, Tom?” Suzanne asked. “What’s the matter with you? What is this—”

An alarm sounded. On the screens, the Josias-01 missile was in position in the silo. In the American Free States and China, the Josias-02 and Josias-03 rockets were also being armed.

Suzanne quickly realized what was happening before her eyes and leaped towards Tom, but she was stopped by one of the Sentinels. One of their metal arms crushed her right hand, causing her to scream in pain.

“Enough, V2!” ordered Tom. “Suzanne? This means there is nothing you can do because Project New Dawn was launched the moment you walked into this room.”

No sound could come out of the young woman’s mouth as she contemplated the silo’s cameras. They juggled back and forth with the cameras monitoring the entrance to Lucerne. Back there, the automated security of the compound was challenging the advance of a group of soldiers who bore machine guns and sabers.

The screen cracked and Suzanne felt nauseous. They were not peacekeepers. Men in white capes ran among the ruins of the access corridor.

What was going on?

It didn’t make any sense, but in a few minutes, they would be standing in front of the heavy armored doors of the center containing the Josias. Her head hurt so much.

A metallic crash came from the other side of the fortified gates. A glimpse of the cameras showed Martins and his V1s trying to break through the door. Jéricho and Tom did not seem worried. Tom continued his explanation.

“The other two missiles have been launched.”

The main screen displayed the sky over the Tibetan capital and a satellite view of the American Dust Bowl. A yellow cloud of fine particles now covered the atmosphere and spread at the speed of sound.

“The one in Lucerne was delayed due to the intervention of the hacker group last night. Apparently, a super-virus did some damage, but it’s almost under control,” Jéricho continued after taking a seat at the touchscreen control platform. The launch can be done manually.”

A switch descended from the ceiling to position itself in front of Jéricho, a few feet from the main console.

Suzanne froze. Had the missiles already detonated from the other compounds? This was madness!

An explosion threw the android and Suzanne to the ground as another shrill alarm tore at her eardrums. The V2s rushed towards the blasted doors and were met with several bursts of bullets. These ricocheted off the walls and hit Jéricho in the chest as it rose to its feet. The android was knocked to the ground as the security chief and his V1s emerged from the smoke.

“Martins, you British dog! Have you gone mad?” shouted Jéricho and Tom in unison.

The former military man answered with several bursts of gunfire as did his Sentinels. The V2s responded immediately after forming a protective wall in front of Tom. Martins was wounded in the arm and had to retreat after dropping his weapon.

Several V1s fell, but the rest retreated towards the door. The dark-skinned man escorted Martins. Glancing over the debris, he saw Suzanne ordering him to withdraw.

But it was too late. An explosive charge launched by one of the V2s jumped between the young woman and the man in the white coat. The man was grabbed by one of the soldiers and sheltered on the other side of the door’s fragments. Suzanne, instead, was drawn back by the android who had recovered from the shock.

As the bullets continued to pierce the air, the smoke dissipated. Suzanne saw Martins’ gun just inches from where she stood. Pushing back against the android’s iron grip, she rolled forward.

Another shot grazed her back and disappeared at the end of the access corridor, causing an explosion that was deadly to the V1s left behind.

“No! Suzanne! Take cover!” Jéricho roared in his metallic voice.

Tom appeared from behind his desk as the V2s fought back a new offensive by Martins.

With her weapon in hand, Suzanne fired two shots at the control lever Jéricho had been standing next to a few seconds ago, destroying the only way to activate the opening of the silo from the control room.

Right away, as Martins and his Sentinels fell to the bullets of Jéricho’s robotic slaves, Suzanne emptied the rest of the weapon at Tom. Tom took a shot to the throat before Jéricho could intervene.

The V2 Sentinels suddenly turned around, cocking their machine guns at Suzanne. Several bullets tore through her belly. Now lying on the ground, she saw Martins’ and the dark-skinned man’s faces. They screamed as the final V2 appeared in the corner of her vision.

As everything went blurry, Tom’s voice echoed in her head. It was quiet and nothing like the one that had coldly explained the true purpose of the Josiah missiles. It came from the other side of the office where Tom must have been lying wounded.

“Suzy? You—you wanted things to end this way, right? Once and for all,” he said with difficulty.

“Yes,” answered Suzanne, confused.

“Me too,” Tom confided. “Or at least see Alpha Centauri before—before the darkness.”

Suzanne was still on the floor of the center. Silence now reigned around her. The smell of powder and molten metal filled the room. A new jolt brought her back to reality.

“They’re coming,” Tom coughed.

“The UN soldiers?”

“No, Suzy. The Paladins and the Sainte. They’re almost at the gate of the compound. Within the range of the last Josiah. You must hurry.”

What remained was only the heartbreaking cries of Jéricho and Thomas, as if their souls were being crushed in the Underworld.