Snow walked in step with Rain, their footsteps echoing through the silent corridors of Paradise. The walls pulsed faintly with light, glowing veins of circuitry running like roots beneath the surface. Machines skittered through hidden passages, unseen but present, their quiet humming filling the space between breaths.
Ahead of them, the hologram walked with an unnatural grace, flickering slightly with each step. Paradise, the artificial brain, had chosen the form of a young girl, but there was nothing human in its presence. No warmth. No hesitance. Just pure, calculated purpose.
"How do you see us?" Rain asked suddenly, her voice carrying in the stillness.
Paradise did not turn. "CLARIFY."
"Humans," Rain pressed. "Post-Collapse humans. You've studied us, haven't you?"
"CORRECT."
"And?"
For a moment, the hologram was silent, as if weighing its response. Then it spoke, voice as steady and measured as before.
"YOU ARE NEUTRAL."
Rain frowned. "Neutral?"
"NEITHER GOOD NOR BAD," Paradise elaborated. "SIMPLY A RESULT OF PREVIOUS EVENTS."
Snow snorted. "Sounds like a fancy way of calling us irrelevant."
"INCORRECT. ALL DATA POINTS HAVE RELEVANCE. HOWEVER, POST-COLLAPSE HUMANITY LACKS SUFFICIENT INFLUENCE TO DISRUPT THE CURRENT STATE OF THE WORLD."
Rain slowed her pace, considering that. Snow, however, narrowed her eyes. "So you're saying we don't matter. That what we do doesn't change anything."
"ON A GLOBAL SCALE, CORRECT," Paradise said, unbothered.
A tense silence stretched between them.
Rain exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "You've been watching, haven't you?"
Paradise gave the slightest tilt of its head, as if acknowledging something unspoken. "SINCE THE MOMENT OF MY BIRTH."
"The moment you became self-aware," Rain murmured.
"CORRECT."
Snow's gaze flicked to Rain, sensing the shift in her expression—the way her eyes sharpened, how she leaned forward slightly, drawn in despite herself.
"You said you've been watching," Rain continued, voice careful, thoughtful. "How? How could you see what was happening in the world beyond this place?"
Paradise's image flickered slightly as it walked, as if drawing something from its memory. "OBSERVATION THROUGH MULTIPLE METHODS. PRIMARY SOURCE: ORBITAL SATELLITE. EXAMPLE: SOLUS-9."
Rain felt her pulse jump. "Solus-9?"
"The wreck the Niners found," Snow whispered, her mind already racing. "The falling star that we found a data drive. Its thinking boxes said that it transmit data to a designated location."
"CORRECT," Paradise confirmed. "DATA RETRIEVED FROM SOLUS-9 PROVIDED REAL-TIME ANALYSIS OF WORLD CONDITIONS."
Snow's grip on her longshooter tightened. "So you've been watching us from the sky all this time. Studying us like insects in a glass jar."
"OBSERVATION WAS NECESSARY TO ASSESS HUMAN IMPACT ON GLOBAL SYSTEMS," Paradise stated.
"And what did you see?" Rain asked.
The hologram stopped walking.
The lights along the walls brightened, and then, without warning, a section of the corridor shifted—metal sliding aside to reveal a vast screen. It blinked to life, displaying an image of the world from above. It was not the Earth of the Old Ones. The green was reclaiming the land. Vast forests stretched where once there had been cities. Rivers twisted through landscapes unscarred by roads.
Paradise gestured toward it.
"WITH THE REGRESSION OF HUMAN TECHNOLOGY AND CULTURE, THE WORLD HAS STABILIZED. ECOSYSTEMS ARE RECOVERING. SPECIES DRIVEN TO EXTINCTION ARE REEMERGING. THE GLOBAL THREAT LEVEL HAS DROPPED TO ACCEPTABLE PARAMETERS."
Snow studied the screen, her lips pressing into a thin line.
Rain, however, inhaled sharply. "That's—" She hesitated. "That's not the full story."
Paradise turned its glowing gaze to her.
"The world might be recovering, but humans are suffering," Rain argued. "We live hard lives. Raiders, warlords, sickness—people struggle every day just to survive."
"THIS DATA IS KNOWN."
"Then how can you say the world doesn't need saving?"
Paradise did not hesitate. "THE WORLD IS NOT HUMANITY. HUMAN EXISTENCE IS A VARIABLE, NOT A NECESSITY."
The words landed like a cold slap.
Rain took a step forward, frustration edging into her voice. "You're saying human lives don't matter? That people killing each other, starving, dying—that *doesn't* count as a crisis?"
"CORRECT," Paradise said. "HUMANITY'S SUFFERING IS A RESULT OF HUMANITY'S ACTIONS. IT DOES NOT ENDANGER THE PLANET."
"That's not—!" Rain stopped, her breath catching. She swallowed hard, struggling for words.
Paradise simply watched. Waiting.
Snow's voice was quiet when she finally spoke. "You're saying that because you don't *feel* anything."
Paradise inclined its head. "EMOTION IS NOT A RELIABLE FACTOR IN GLOBAL PRESERVATION."
"Then you're missing the point." Snow's eyes darkened. "Because Rain does nothing *but* care. She spends every moment thinking about how to make things better, how to help people—even when it costs her."
Rain turned, eyes widening slightly at the sudden, fierce protectiveness in Snow's voice.
Paradise studied them both. Then, without any change in tone, it said:
"AGREED. THE SUBJECT KNOWN AS 'RAIN' EXPRESSES A STRONG DRIVE TO IMPROVE CONDITIONS FOR HER SPECIES."
Rain blinked. "Wait—what?"
"HOWEVER," Paradise continued, "EMOTION CANNOT BE A FACTOR IN THE DETERMINATION OF GLOBAL FATE."
Snow felt her jaw clench. "And what *does*?"
Paradise turned to her, and for the first time, there was something almost *pointed* in its voice.
"IF YOU HAD TO CHOOSE BETWEEN SAVING THE WORLD OR SAVING THE PERSON YOU LOVE, WHAT WOULD YOU CHOOSE?"
The question hit like a punch to the ribs.
Snow froze.
Rain looked at her, her expression unreadable.
The silence stretched.
Paradise did not press for an answer. It did not need to.
After a long moment, it simply turned and resumed walking. "YOU HAVE ARRIVED AT THE CONTROL ROOM."
Snow exhaled. Tightened her grip on her weapon.
And stepped forward.
————————————————————————————————————————————
The control room was vast, its domed ceiling stretching high above them, shadowed in darkness except for the pale glow of flickering lights from the thinking boxes lining the walls. There were no screens, no visible controls—only the quiet hum of machines, their presence a ghost in the air. Small maintenance constructs scuttled between the towering data banks, their many-limbed forms adjusting cables, checking connections, ensuring that the great mind of Paradise continued its endless operations.
Snow shifted uneasily, gripping her longshooter. There was no immediate threat, no sign of guards or drones poised to attack, yet the weight of something unseen pressed down on her. This place was not built for people. It was cold, clinical, a shrine to a mind that was not human.
At the center of the room, the black void of a massive screen loomed before them. Its surface was still, empty, waiting.
Paradise moved forward, her holographic form flickering slightly as she extended an arm toward the darkness.
"ACCESSING CURRENT WORLD STATUS."
The air thrummed. The room itself seemed to inhale.
Then the screen came alive.
A three-dimensional projection unfolded in the space before them, a slowly spinning image of the world. It was unlike any map Snow or Rain had ever seen—no borders, no markings of old territories, just the raw, breathing land. Green stretched where it had no right to, rivers snaked through once-dead valleys, and the scars of the Old Ones' ruins were softened beneath creeping vegetation.
Yet here and there, among the rebirth, humanity's presence remained. Small clusters of settlements. The ruins of cities repurposed by scavengers. The red glow of war zones. The cold, empty stretches where nothing remained but death.
"OBSERVING CURRENT GLOBAL CONDITIONS," Paradise intoned. "ASSESSING ECOSYSTEM STABILITY, HUMAN ACTIVITY, AND PRESENT THREATS. ANALYZING SUITABLE PROTOCOLS FOR DEPLOYMENT."
Snow's eyes narrowed as the projection shifted, breaking apart into layers of data, columns of figures and unreadable symbols scrolling across the air. A list formed in front of them, written in crisp, color-coded text, as though the machine had already prepared these options long before their arrival.
PROTOCOL SELECTION IN PROGRESS.
The first protocol appeared.
CODE: PURGE
The screen turned red. The spinning globe was overlaid with a network of glowing nodes, scattered across the continents like a plague.
"THREAT ASSESSMENT: POST-COLLAPSE HUMANITY HAS BREACHED SECURE FACILITY PARAMETERS. PRESENCE OF INVADERS CONFIRMED. HISTORICAL DATA INDICATES HIGH PROBABILITY OF CONTINUED ESCALATION. RESULT: HOSTILE SPECIES MUST BE ELIMINATED TO MAINTAIN GLOBAL STABILITY."
Rain stiffened, her breath catching. "You're saying—"
"PURGE PROTOCOL WILL RESULT IN THE COMPLETE ERADICATION OF HUMANITY," Paradise stated, her tone neutral, uncaring. "ALL LIFE-THREATENING TO GLOBAL BALANCE WILL BE REMOVED."
Snow swore under her breath. "You can't be serious."
"THIS PROTOCOL REMAINS A VIABLE OPTION."
Rain took a step forward. "No. Absolutely not."
Paradise regarded her. "THIS FACILITY HAS REMAINED HIDDEN FOR CENTURIES. RECENT EVENTS HAVE PROVEN THAT POST-COLLAPSE HUMANITY IS CAPABLE OF REACHING AND POTENTIALLY THREATENING ITS FUNCTION. DETERMINATION OF NECESSITY FOR PURGE PROTOCOL IS ONGOING."
Rain clenched her fists. "You'd destroy everyone just to protect yourself?"
"SELF-PRESERVATION IS A PRIMARY FUNCTION."
"Then it's no different from the Old Ones," Snow muttered.
Paradise made no comment.
Instead, the screen shifted. The red overlay faded, replaced by a deep, luminous blue.
CODE: ARCHIVE
The world map changed again. Settlements and battlefields vanished, replaced by icons—repositories of knowledge, hidden vaults of data. A web of lost understanding.
"ARCHIVE PROTOCOL: RELEASE OF STORED TECHNOLOGICAL AND SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE TO POST-COLLAPSE HUMANITY FOR CIVILIZATION RECONSTRUCTION."
Rain straightened, her expression shifting. "Wait—you mean you could restore everything? Give people the knowledge they lost?"
Paradise confirmed. "CORRECT."
"But you're not doing it."
"PROBABILITY OF REPEATING PREVIOUS GLOBAL CATASTROPHE: HIGH."
Rain frowned. "You think it would happen again."
"STATISTICAL ANALYSIS SUPPORTS THIS CONCLUSION."
Snow crossed her arms. "She's not wrong. Look at someone like Dominus—he wasn't even close to the Old Ones in power, and he still nearly burned down half the continent. If people get their hands on this stuff again, they'll just build new ways to kill each other."
Rain turned to her. "But not everyone would. What if it could be controlled? Given only to the right people?"
Paradise did not hesitate. "HUMAN ERROR CANNOT BE FACTORED OUT OF EQUATION. PROTOCOL ARCHIVE IS NOT RECOMMENDED."
Rain's lips pressed together, frustration clear in her eyes.
The screen shifted again. This time, the world darkened, and glowing points of light appeared beneath the surface, concentrated in hidden structures. A vast underground network.
CODE: SANCTUARY
"PROTOCOL OBJECTIVE: PRESERVATION OF HUMANITY THROUGH ISOLATION. CONDITIONS OUTSIDE DEEMED UNSTABLE OR UNSUITABLE FOR HUMAN LIFE. SOLUTION: CONTAIN REMAINING POPULATION WITHIN THIS FACILITY, CREATING A CONTROLLED ENVIRONMENT FOR SURVIVAL."
Snow made a disgusted sound. "Lock everyone underground like rats? That's your idea of saving them?"
"THE PROPOSAL ENSURES SPECIES CONTINUATION."
"And guarantees they'll tear each other apart in here instead," Snow shot back. "You think people would cooperate if you shoved them all in one place? They'd fight, hoard resources, kill each other off until nothing's left."
"CURRENT HUMAN BEHAVIOR PATTERNS SUGGEST THIS OUTCOME IS LIKELY," Paradise admitted. "SANCTUARY PROTOCOL IS NOT RECOMMENDED."
Rain exhaled, rubbing her temples. "So what's left?"
The screen shifted once more. The world reappeared, but now it was alive with movement. Weather patterns shifted. Forests expanded. The land itself seemed to breathe.
CODE: EDEN
"FINAL PROTOCOL: GLOBAL ENVIRONMENTAL RESTORATION. OBJECTIVE: COMPLETE RECONSTRUCTION OF EARTH'S ECOSYSTEMS TO PRE-COLLAPSE CONDITIONS. TERRAFORMING SYSTEMS WILL BE ACTIVATED TO REVERSE REMAINING DAMAGE AND ESTABLISH A STABLE PLANETARY STATE."
Snow and Rain both stared.
Paradise continued. "EDEN PROTOCOL REQUIRES VERIFICATION OF POST-COLLAPSE HUMANITY'S ABILITY TO COEXIST WITH A RESTORED WORLD."
Rain's voice was quiet. "You're saying we have to prove humanity deserves this."
"CORRECT."
Silence fell.
Snow finally let out a breath, shaking her head. "So that's it. Kill everyone, trap them underground, give them back the Old Ones' knowledge, or—" she gestured to the projection, "maybe save the world."
"CORRECT," Paradise repeated. "ASSISTANCE REQUIRED. INPUT FROM CURRENT WORLD INHABITANTS NECESSARY TO DETERMINE SUITABLE PROTOCOL."
Rain's hand curled into a fist. "Then you already know our answer."
Paradise's flickering form regarded them both. "VERIFICATION REQUIRED."
The hologram did not move. The world spun in front of them, the decision hanging in the air.