Rain turned to Paradise, her brows knitting together in determination. "What do we have to do?" she asked. "How do we prove that the world needs saving?"
Paradise regarded her, the hologram of the young girl shifting slightly, its form flickering as if considering its response. Then, in its usual mechanical calm, it answered, "YOU CANNOT."
Rain blinked. "What?"
"THE TWO OF YOU ALONE CANNOT DETERMINE THE FATE OF HUMANITY," Paradise continued. "ANY DECISION MUST ACCOUNT FOR THE FULL SCOPE OF THE CURRENT WORLD'S INHABITANTS. YOUR WORDS AND ACTIONS, THOUGH NOTABLE, ARE INSUFFICIENT DATA."
"So you've dragged us all this way just to tell us that it doesn't matter?" Snow said sharply, folding her arms. "Then why even ask for our input at all?"
Paradise's flickering form turned toward her. "BECAUSE PERSPECTIVE MATTERS. YOU MAY NOT DICTATE THE FATE OF THE WORLD, BUT YOU CAN PROVIDE INSIGHT INTO IT. YOUR EXPERIENCES, YOUR UNDERSTANDING OF THIS ERA—THESE FACTORS CAN CONTRIBUTE TO MY FINAL DECISION."
Rain hesitated. "So… what? You want us to go out there and gather other people's opinions? Find out what they think?"
"NO. INDIVIDUAL PERSPECTIVES ARE TOO LIMITED. HOWEVER, I CAN EXTRACT THE RELEVANT DATA FROM YOUR MINDS."
Snow stiffened. "Excuse me?"
Paradise did not react to her discomfort. "MEMORY EXTRACTION. A FULL SCAN OF YOUR EXPERIENCES, VIEWPOINTS, RELATIONSHIPS—A FIRST-PERSON ACCOUNT OF THE WORLD THROUGH ITS CURRENT INHABITANTS. IF I AM TO DECIDE WHICH PROTOCOL TO ACTIVATE, I REQUIRE A COMPLETE UNDERSTANDING OF WHAT YOU HAVE SEEN AND ENDURED."
Rain glanced at Snow, her expression unreadable. "That… doesn't sound unreasonable."
Snow's eyes narrowed. "And what happens after?"
Paradise continued. "ONCE THE MEMORY SCAN IS COMPLETE, I WILL DETERMINE THE MOST SUITABLE PROTOCOL WITHOUT FURTHER DISCUSSION."
Snow frowned. "So that's it? No more arguing, no more convincing? You'll make the choice, and we'll just have to live with it?"
"CORRECT."
"And if we don't like the outcome?"
"THEN YOU WILL HAVE TO ACCEPT IT. THE SCAN WILL PROVIDE THE NECESSARY DATA. EMOTION WILL NOT BE FACTORED INTO THE DECISION."
Rain seemed thoughtful, considering the offer. Snow, on the other hand, felt a deep unease coil in her stomach. She didn't trust Paradise—not because it was a machine, but because it was cold. Its logic was brutal, untouched by sentiment or compassion. And if that was the lens through which it viewed the world…
She swallowed hard.
"Let's do it," Rain decided. "It's the best chance we have."
But Snow didn't answer right away. The unease inside her had sharpened into something closer to dread. Not for herself—but for Rain.
She looked at her partner, at the way Rain's blue eyes burned with conviction. Rain was good. She always had been. She saw the world as something worth saving, no matter how broken it was. If Paradise peered into Rain's heart, it would find kindness, compassion, a genuine desire to help others.
But Snow?
Snow was a killer.
She had spent years surviving in a world that had tried to kill her first. She had murdered without hesitation, without remorse. Not because she enjoyed it, but because it was necessary. She had seen humanity at its worst—raiders gutting villages, warlords building empires on the backs of others, desperate people willing to do anything to see another day.
She had done terrible things.
And if Paradise looked inside her mind, what conclusion would it reach?
Would it decide that humanity wasn't worth saving after all?
Rain must have sensed her hesitation because she reached for Snow's hand, squeezing it tightly. "It's okay," she murmured. "We'll do this together."
Snow let out a slow breath, her fingers curling around Rain's. "You don't understand," she said quietly. "I know you'll pass its test. But I won't."
Rain frowned. "That's not how this works."
"Yes, it is," Snow shot back. "Paradise doesn't care about emotions. It won't see why I saved you, or why I fought for you. It'll just see the bodies I left behind. It'll see all the times I killed without flinching, all the times I walked away from people who needed help because stopping would've put me at risk. It'll see someone who doesn't care about the world in the slightest."
Rain held her gaze. "That's not true."
Snow laughed bitterly. "It is. I don't care about the world, Rain. I care about you. That's the only reason I ever did any of this. I fought, I killed, I survived—not for some grand cause, but for you. And when it comes down to it, if I had to choose between saving the world and saving you, you already know what my answer would be."
Rain didn't argue. She knew. She had always known.
Snow exhaled sharply, looking away. "So tell me, what do you think Paradise will decide when it sees that? That I'd let the whole world burn just to keep one person alive?"
Rain squeezed her hand again. "You're not as selfish as you think."
"Yes, I am."
"You've saved me *so many times*," Rain said, her voice firm. "And you could've left. You could've walked away a hundred times over. But you didn't. You stayed. You fought. Even if you don't care about the world, *you* are the reason I'm still alive. And if I'm still here, then that means I can fight for it."
Snow swallowed, her throat tight.
"You don't have to believe in the world," Rain whispered. "You just have to believe in me."
Snow looked at her, at the determination in her face, at the faith in her eyes. Rain believed in her. Trusted her.
Even when Snow couldn't trust herself.
A long silence stretched between them. Then, finally, Snow let out a quiet, resigned sigh. "…Fine."
Rain smiled, relief washing over her. "Okay."
She turned to Paradise. "We accept."
The hologram girl gave a slow, deliberate nod.
"MEMORY SCAN INITIATING."
Snow took a breath and held tight to Rain's hand as the world dissolved into light.
————————————————————————————————————————————
Snow and Rain drifted in the vastness of the memory space, hands clasped tightly, the warmth of each other's grasp grounding them in this strange, ethereal limbo. Around them, ribbons of light unraveled like threads of a great tapestry, memories woven into shimmering streams that twisted and coiled through the endless void. Paradise watched impassively, its presence a distant pulse in the space between thoughts.
The first memory unfolded like ink spilling across water.
A quiet room, warm with candlelight. Stacks of old books lined the walls, their pages worn and delicate, their words remnants of a lost world. A child sat cross-legged on the floor, listening intently as her mother read to her. Rain—small, curious, full of questions—clung to every word, devouring stories of the Old Ones, of their knowledge, their mistakes, their dreams. Her mother's voice was soft, her fingers tracing the faded print as she spoke of the past.
And then—another scene. A different place.
A girl crouched in the shadows of a ruined marketplace, her clothes tattered, her fingers dried from the hot air. Snow—young, hungry, desperate—watched as merchants bartered over scraps of food. She moved swiftly, silently, slipping through the crowd like a ghost. A loaf of bread, a handful of dried meat, whatever she could carry—she grabbed it and ran. Behind her, shouts rang out, footsteps pounded against broken stone. She didn't stop. She couldn't.
Snow clenched her jaw. She hated seeing this. The scrawny child she had been, weak, alone, surviving by stealing from people who could barely feed themselves.
Rain squeezed her hand. "It's okay," she murmured. "That's not who you are anymore."
The memories flooded faster now.
Their teenage years—Rain standing alone in a village square, the word Knower whispered with distaste. People avoided her, cast glances of suspicion. She kept her head high, but loneliness weighed on her shoulders.
Snow, older, her hands steady on the grip of a knife. The first time she killed a man. The warmth of blood on her fingers. The realization that she could do this, that she had to do this.
And then—the moment everything changed.
The first time they met.
Snow, always saving and protecting Rain, even when she herself doesn't understand why at that time. Rain, sharing nearly everything she have to others, even when it put her at dire state.
Then, at the house of food, the two started to become more than strangers, or simple companions. They become partners, for life.
Memory after memory. Rain, tending to the wounded without expecting thanks. Snow, standing guard over her, keeping the threats away. Rain, speaking of her dream—to save the world, to make it better. Snow, scoffing at her naïveté, followed her anyway.
Rain, doubting herself, becomes worried for Snow, instead decides to forgoes her dream of saving the world if it means that her partner wouldn't have to be at risk anymore. Snow, knowing that her and Rain could just settle somewhere, far away, so they can be saved, instead push her to pursue her own happiness, and still committed to helping Rain, to protect her.
Their escapade from the Niners. Their promise back at the metro. Their heartfelt talk at the Havenium village.
And then, the most recent ones—
"Rain…I think I love you—" Snow had said.
"I love you too.," Rain had answered.
The warmth of their bodies as they clung to each other, the unspoken promise between them. The moment when love became something more than just words.
Snow swallowed hard as the final memory shimmered into view—her lips on Rain's, the breathless realization that she had never needed to be afraid of who she was, who she is, because Rain didn't care. She always trust Snow, even when Snow didn't trust herself.
The memory space dissolved.
Snow exhaled, finding herself back in her own skin, back in the cold, dimly lit control room. Rain was still holding her hand, looking at her with something soft and knowing in her eyes.
Snow let out a shaky laugh. "Guess there's nothing to be afraid of anymore."
Rain tilted her head. "You were afraid?"
Snow smirked. "Terrified."
Rain squeezed her fingers. "You shouldn't be. I know you, Snow. I always have."
Snow opened her mouth to say something—something sharp and teasing, maybe—but instead, she just leaned in, pressing her forehead against Rain's. Rain sighed, content, and for a moment, the world beyond them didn't matter.
Then Paradise spoke.
"MEMORY SCAN COMPLETE. ANALYZING RESULTS."
The voice was as mechanical as ever, but something was different now. A slight pause between words, a faint shift in cadence.
Snow and Rain turned to face the hologram, its flickering form standing before them like an omniscient judge.
"AFTER REVIEWING YOUR MEMORIES, A CONCLUSION HAS BEEN REACHED."
Snow tensed. Rain squeezed her hand.
The hologram of Paradise flickered. "THIS FACILITY WAS BUILT TO PRESERVE KNOWLEDGE. TO OBSERVE THE FATE OF HUMANITY. TO DETERMINE WHETHER HUMAN NATURE COULD EVER CHANGE."
A pause.
"THE OLD ONES COULD NOT CHANGE."
Rain sucked in a breath.
"THEIR PATTERNS WERE CONSISTENT THROUGH HISTORY. TECHNOLOGICAL ADVANCEMENT FOLLOWED BY EXCESS. WAR. DESTRUCTION. COLLAPSE. THIS PATTERN WAS REPEATED UNTIL THE FINAL EVENT." The hologram flickered again, displaying ghostly images of towering cities, glass and steel monoliths shrouded in smoke, the final hours of the Once-World playing out like a nightmare. "POST-COLLAPSE HUMANITY WAS EXPECTED TO BE THE SAME."
Snow's grip on Rain's hand tightened.
Paradise continued, "BUT YOU HAVE ALTERED THAT CALCULATION."
Rain's lips parted. "What?"
"YOUR EXISTENCE PROVES THAT HUMAN NATURE IS NOT STATIC."
The room fell silent.
Paradise's voice remained mechanical, but there was something almost… contemplative in its tone. "KNOWER RAIN SOUGHT STRENGTH, NOT FOR HERSELF, BUT FOR PROTECTOR SNOW. PROTECTOR SNOW LEARNED COMPASSION, NOT FOR HERSELF, BUT FOR KNOWER RAIN. YOUR CHOICES DEFY HISTORICAL PRECEDENT."
Snow inhaled sharply. She wasn't sure what to make of that.
"You're saying we changed?" Rain whispered.
"YOU HAVE CHANGED EACH OTHER. AND THROUGH YOU, OTHERS HAVE CHANGED AS WELL." The hologram's gaze lingered on them. "YOUR EMOTIONS HAVE ALTERED THE COURSE OF INDIVIDUAL LIVES. THIS IS DATA THAT CANNOT BE IGNORED."
Snow crossed her arms. "So what? You're saying we're special?"
Paradise answered without hesitation. "YOU ARE A NEW VARIABLE. A PROOF THAT THE FUTURE DOES NOT HAVE TO FOLLOW THE PAST."
Rain's eyes shimmered. She had spent so much of her life clinging to the idea that people could be better, that the world could be saved. And now, something as vast and unknowable as Paradise was telling her she had been right.
She turned to Snow, who was watching her carefully. Snow's expression was unreadable, but there was something in her gaze—something warm, something proud.
"SO," Paradise said, "A DECISION HAS BEEN MADE."
The black screen before them suddenly flared to life, displaying a holographic projection of the world as it was now—barren wastelands, shattered ruins, fractured ecosystems barely clinging to life.
"THE EDEN PROTOCOL WILL BE INITIATED."
Rain gasped, hands flying to her mouth.
Snow exhaled, long and slow.
The projection shifted, showing vast machines buried deep within the earth, long-dormant systems slowly beginning to awaken. Terraforming machines. Atmospheric stabilizers. Seed vaults, waiting to bring life back to the world.
"THE PROCESS WILL REQUIRE TIME," Paradise stated. "BUT HUMANITY WILL HAVE A SECOND CHANCE."
Rain turned, eyes shining. "Snow—"
Snow smiled. Not a smirk. Not her usual sharp-edged grin. A real, genuine smile.
"I know," she murmured. "I see it."
Rain let out a shaky laugh, wiping at her eyes. "I can't believe it… I knew it was possible, but…"
Snow tilted her head. "You knew?"
Rain chuckled. "Fine. I hoped."
Paradise's voice interrupted. "YOU MUST LEAVE."
Rain blinked. "What?"
"THIS FACILITY WILL BE SEALED PERMANENTLY. ALL SYSTEMS WILL BE AUTOMATED. NO HUMAN WILL INTERFERE WITH THE PROCESS."
Rain's joy faltered slightly. "But… there's so much knowledge here. So much we could learn. If people had access to—"
"NO."
The finality in that single word sent a chill through the room.
"THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE OLD ONES LED TO THEIR DOWNFALL. HUMANITY MUST MOVE FORWARD ON ITS OWN. NOT BY CLINGING TO THE PAST. NOT BY RELYING ON MACHINES."
Snow frowned. "Rain could use that knowledge, you know. You see our memories, right? She will never use it for—"
Rain shook her head. "No… it's okay."
Snow turned to her. "What?"
Rain smiled, the last traces of tears still on her cheeks. "I'm not that girl anymore. The one who only cared about the Once-World. Who spent all her time reading about the past but doing nothing for the present." She took a deep breath. "I don't want to waste my life studying the ruins of a dead world. I want to know this world. The one we have now. The one we can still change."
Snow watched her for a long moment, then snorted softly. "You almost sound like a proper Knower now."
Rain laughed. "I am a proper Knower."
Snow's smirk softened. "Gemma would be proud of you."
Rain's breath hitched. She swallowed past the lump in her throat, blinking rapidly. "Yeah," she whispered. "I think she would."
They turned toward the entrance—now open, the long tunnel leading back to the surface bathed in cold, pale light.
Snow glanced at Rain. "You ready?"
Rain took a step forward. "I want to explore the world," she said softly. Then she turned, looking straight into Snow's eyes. "Together."
Snow's expression shifted—her smirk gone, replaced by something quieter, something warmer.
She reached out, threading their fingers together.
"I'll always be beside you," she murmured.
Rain's smile was radiant.
And together, they turned away from the past and stepped into the future.