Chapter 2 –
05-02-2038
Latitude 22.1934° N, Longitude 16.4739° E
BRIGGS
Ninety.
I pause, letting the number settle, its weight thickening the air. The human mind resists truths this raw,
dismisses them as statistical exaggerations or mere nightmares. But reality does not bend to disbelief.
Ninety percent of the world's population will vanish before the year ends.
Twenty-five holograms hover before me, ghostly blue visages of power. Leaders representing nations,
ideologies, competing futures—yet all shackled together by impending doom.
A voice pierces through static, clipped and mechanical. "Containment?"
My hands clasp behind my back, steadying. Containment. A comforting lie men whisper when they
imagine the beast can still be caged.
"Possible," I reply, voice controlled, precise. "But only under strict parameters."
I flick my fingers, expanding the holographic projection. The virus blooms into focus, strands of
glistening metal intertwined with writhing organic filaments. Too structured to be natural. Too alive to
be pure machinery. It pulses, malevolent and alien.
"This isn't a disease." My tone slices across the quiet. "It's a rewrite."
My words sink, heavy and dark, rippling through the assembled leaders.
Another voice breaks in, feminine and sharp. "This footage—is it archived?"
"No."
I shift the projection. Patient 2067 emerges. Once human—now something else entirely. He snarls,
nails raking furrows into reinforced steel walls. His howl echoes, an unearthly scream born of hunger
severed from sanity.
Steel doors detonate inward.
Armored personnel flood the containment chamber, rifles trained, shouting commands drowned
beneath the creature's fury. Muzzles flash; rounds shred through flesh and bone.
The creature jerks violently but doesn't falter. He surges forward, stronger, hungrier, faster.
I allow the holograms to linger, absorbing the hopeless spectacle before issuing the order.
Gas hisses through hidden vents.
The subject stumbles, choking. A soldier advances, weapon leveled calmly. A single shot cracks
through the skull, loud and final. Silence floods back in its wake.
The holograms hover in stunned quiet. I let the truth sink deeper.
"Physical destruction of the frontal lobe is the only effective termination."
Several projections blink green, signaling grim approval.
"The virus transmits through saliva," I explain calmly, clinical, detached. "It hijacks oral bacteria to
replicate itself. Blood transmission is impossible; each host becomes uniquely coded to resist standard
infection."
A central hologram flickers. A voice rumbles, deep and absolute. "Initiate phase one immediately.
Deploy the counteragent to all twelve shelter zones. Extraction teams cycle continuously to harvest
necessary samples. Three months. No delays."
Holograms blink out one after another, verdict delivered.
I exhale slowly, turning to Professor Kathy. She stands quietly beside me as always, a steady presence
through countless disasters. My colleague. My confidante.
"Was that satisfactory?"
She nods slightly, offering a faint, encouraging smile. "You were… commanding."
Reassuring.
Leaving the war room, I step into the aircraft's main cabin. Exhaustion crashes over me, pressing hard
into my bones. I collapse into a seat, eyes closing, consciousness slipping toward uneasy sleep.
Extinction's shadow feels heavier tonight.
A touch on my shoulder jolts me awake.
Dennis.
He crouches easily beside me, turquoise eyes bright, mischievous beneath a cascade of silver-grey hair.
Novans are massive, but Dennis dwarfs even them—two meters, twenty centimeters of obsidian muscle
and sinuous grace. He moves like a predator, unnaturally agile, unnervingly swift.
I frown, confusion slicing through my weariness. Dennis wasn't aboard this flight.
"How are you here?" My voice rasps, roughened from sleep.
His grin widens, turquoise eyes glinting playfully. "Some secrets are worth keeping, Prof."
I straighten in the seat, instincts prickling along my spine. "What's happened?"
He leans close, voice dropping low, conspiratorial. "The upgrade succeeded."
My breath catches, heartbeat quickening. "You initiated it already?"
Dennis shrugs, casually smug. "In the flesh. Clocked myself at precisely one hundred thirty-eight point
one kilometers per hour." He tilts his head slightly, silver strands catching the cabin's dim lighting,
gaze flicking to Kathy, ensuring she hears every word.
A slow, incredulous smile spreads across my face. "You hold the record now—for the fastest land
creature."
Dennis chuckles, turquoise eyes sparkling with familiar arrogance. "Of course. Who else?"
I turn toward the window, staring down at a world consumed by darkness, fracturing beneath us. A
world dying. A world reborn.
"We stand at the precipice of something impossible," I murmur quietly.
Dennis crosses his muscular arms, observing me closely, curiosity bright in his gaze. "For the better, I
hope?"
I remain silent.
Hope is a luxury I cannot afford.
"Of course, it's for the better. Don't be stupid, Dennis," Kathy calls out.
She always does this—tries to lift my spirits when she senses the weight settling over me. The burden
of knowing, of planning, of deciding who lives and who is left behind.
She shoves Dennis. A futile effort. She might as well be pushing against the hull of this aircraft. He
doesn't even sway, only tilts his head, amusement sharpening his features.
"Professor, you've always been right," she continues, voice lighter now but edged with conviction.
"And this is the best course of action. Remember what the Chancellor always says."
I nod.
I do remember.
Khalifa's dream is more than a vision. It is inevitability.
Dennis, the Novans, the virus, the Lumiyans—me.
We are his legacy for the new world.
I glance between them—Dennis and Kathy. Two beings carved from different truths. One bred for war,
the other for science. The pen and the sword.
Her deep ebony irises are like black holes, absorbing everything they touch. His body, sculpted by
genetics and augmentation, built to wrestle a wild bear. And yet, beneath those turquoise eyes,
intelligence gleams.
A warrior, yes. But not a mindless one.
I exhale, rubbing my temple. "I know the plan. I know it's the only way forward."
Dennis smirks, arms crossing over his broad chest. "So stop brooding like a man staring down the end
of the world."
I meet his gaze, unblinking.
"That's exactly what I'm staring at."