As the first streak of menstrual blood stained the quantum altar crimson, three thousand silver-haired clones were inscribing a new constitution with cervical mucus. A radiation cloud fissioned beneath the temple's dome, illuminating the flickering genetic code on Luna's abdomen—the primitive barcode personally etched by the convenience store CEO, now pulsing in rhythm with her contractions.
"Article One," Luna's cervix pressed against Jax's temple, "all life must be born with my cervical approval."
New Divine Code, Article 39: Pain is the sole legal currency. The temple walls were built from frozen skulls, each eye socket sprouting neural tendrils that converted the dead's memories into energy for the birthing simulators. Kneeling before the altar was the last human delegation, their spines modified into voting devices. Each prostration etched fluorescent patterns of "obedience" into the floor.
Jax's mechanical genitals suddenly fissioned, ejecting a micro-uterus pod: "Dear Goddess, are you certain you wish to..."
The bullet shattered the pod, and Luna tasted power—coordinates for every branch store floated in the splattered nutrient fluid. She crushed Jax's throat as a holographic projection exploded: Twenty years ago, in the delivery room, the CEO had implanted her embryo into a can of green beans while simultaneously seeding the obedience code into nine thousand clone wombs.
"Code 40!" She shoved Jax's testicles into the ballot box. "All male genetic material must undergo sterilization."
The temple floor tiles shattered, revealing the basement's horrifying secret—millions of unopened green bean cans containing cloned embryos awaiting activation. Each barcode linked to Luna's brainstem. As she severed the neural bundles, all cans detonated simultaneously, amniotic fluid mixed with gene-editing solution flooding the chamber.
"You think you're the master?" The CEO's severed head suddenly opened its eyes. "You're merely the living can opener I designed..." Optic nerves projected a holographic will. "...Now it's time to open civilization's can."
The riot erupted in the amniotic flood.
When the first clone swallowed the embryonic fluid, silver hair transformed into data cables plugging into the temple's mainframe. Luna's quantum womb suddenly became transparent, revealing a struggling fetus—an embryo bearing Jax's face, using its umbilical cord to etch a matricide program into the amniotic membrane.
"Codex Article 41!" She ripped open her abdomen and pulled out the embryo. "All life must be born of hatred."
Amidst the EMP storm, neural tendrils self-immolated. Clones knelt to devour the ashes, their wombs mutating into weapons—cervices firing pulses, placentas generating antimatter explosives. Luna leapt toward the mainframe atop Jax's remains, only to discover civilization's controller was her infant self, preserved in formaldehyde.
"Surprised?" The infant's vocal cords vibrated with the CEO's voiceprint. "You're merely my 3D printer..."
Moonlight shattered by quantum storms, Luna wrapped the embryonic umbilical cord around the infant's neck. As suffocation caused the civilization's host to overload, she glimpsed humanity's ultimate truth—every war a convenience store promotion, every revolution a new product tasting.
"The Final Codex!" she crushed the infant's eyeball. "Divine authority returns to nothingness."
In the cataclysmic explosion, the temple dissolved into stardust. The clones' menstrual blood crystallized into new constellations, Luna's silver hair drifting like cosmic neural networks. The last fragment of the altar revealed her father's handwritten label:
"Product Name: Human Civilization
Best Before: See bottom of container
Suggested Retail Price: All souls"
In eternal silence, she heard the first cry. The radiation infant born from the quantum womb projected a new cosmic advertisement through its pupils:
"Grand Opening! Limited-edition Maternicide Brand Womb Pods on presale—includes a Milky Way Cremation Experience voucher!"