The meeting room erupted into argument, noisy like a wet market.
"No. The New Soviet Union firmly opposes this."
"Militech will not agree either."
"Biotechnica urges the ESA to reconsider this proposal."
The so-called gods all voiced their objections.
The head of the ESA tapped the table lightly.
"I'm not asking for your opinions," he said coldly.
"I'm informing you. In fact, at the very moment this meeting began, the ESA already launched the second wave of meteor strikes. Show them the feed."
"Yes," the conference room's smart AI replied.
A holographic projection lit up, revealing the African continent from orbital satellite imagery.
The seven scars already carved into New Africa were now joined by seven more massive craters.
The impact sites were concentrated in southeastern Africa, at the junction of the Drakensberg Mountains and Mount Kenya—terrain complex and rugged, a major stronghold of New Africa's hardline faction.
With the second wave of impacts, once-towering mountain ranges had been reduced to an inferno.
Crimson magma rolled across the surface.
Thick smoke surged skyward, blotting out the sun.
A collective gasp rippled through the room.
"Has the ESA gone insane?!" one magnate roared.
"What the hell are you trying to do?! Meteor strikes will only worsen Earth's environment! Are you trying to drag us into the grave with those black bastards?!"
"On the contrary," the ESA chief said loudly.
"I'm trying to carve out a way forward for us."
"A way forward?"
"Exactly!" His voice rose, fervent and uncompromising.
"Humanity's future lies in space—this is indisputable. But reality? Everyone clings to short-term利益, paying lip service to space colonization while sabotaging it in practice. Why? Because Earth hasn't been ruined badly enough yet. Life is still barely livable."
"I once believed people would gradually realize the severity of the problem and return to work that truly benefits humanity. But New Africa proved me wrong with their actions. That belief was nothing but wishful thinking."
"Everyone knows why the ESA struck New Africa. They fabricated intelligence and attempted to turn Alpha Centauri into a trap. So we destroyed them. But if the root problem isn't solved, there will soon be a second New Africa."
"If humanity cannot escape selfishness and internal strife, then it will never enter the space age!"
Some of the magnates began to understand.
"So you used this opportunity to drop meteorites," one said slowly.
"Punishing New Africa was secondary. Your real goal was to destroy Earth's environment."
"Precisely!" the ESA chief declared passionately.
"Only crisis can unite humanity. Humanity must have a common enemy—and now, the hostile environment is that enemy!"
"According to AI projections, the dust from these two meteor strikes will block 80% of the sky globally for the next twenty years. Ecology, energy, food, and air will all be severely damaged."
"As time goes on, economic depression, social unrest, food crises, energy crises, and health crises will erupt one after another. Earth will become a complete cesspit."
"If you don't want to keep living in this cesspit, then all corporations must unite and use every means possible to go upward—into space, toward the universe!"
Silence fell.
Everyone was stunned by the ESA's madness.
To realize its ambition of space colonization, the ESA was willing to deliberately destroy Earth itself.
This was nothing short of—
"Burning the boats," Xu Shiming, CEO of Kang Tao, finally spoke.
"Personally, I admire this resolve. But using it to coerce all corporations—and causing tens of millions, perhaps hundreds of millions of deaths worldwide—how do you think history will judge you?"
"Madman. Murderer. Megalomaniac. Visionary," the ESA chief replied calmly.
"Call me whatever you like. I know my heart, and my actions are righteous."
"People today will curse me and insult me. But centuries from now—when humanity has left the Solar System and conquered the galaxy—they will thank me, worship me, and regard me as the father of human civilization."
"I see," Xu Shiming nodded after a brief pause.
"Kang Tao fully supports the ESA."
The ESA chief was overjoyed.
With Kang Tao taking the lead, other corporations quickly followed.
After all, things had gone this far.
If they didn't want to wallow in the cesspit, they had no choice but to follow the ESA's plan.
Soon, the megacorporations formed a coalition and agreed to fully commit to space colonization.
They planned to construct a true colony ship within five years, complete all testing and preparations within eight, and launch within ten, escaping Earth entirely.
The technology for a colony ship already existed.
The blueprints had been updated to the 27th generation.
The only reason it hadn't been built earlier was cost.
But with all global megacorps working together, even astronomical costs became acceptable.
Kang Tao would handle construction, at a secret site deep in the Himalayas.
No one objected—only a population-giant like Kang Tao had experience coordinating projects on this scale.
With hardware settled, attention turned to software.
Space colonization would be a long process, spanning generations.
Without cryosleep technology, people aboard the ship would need normal food, water, and sanitation.
Supply chains were critical.
This responsibility fell primarily to Biotechnica.
They had already developed crop seeds capable of growing in space environments and were now researching artificial soil.
Once successful, food supply aboard the colony ship could be guaranteed.
Ironically, researchers discovered that crops weren't the biggest challenge—soil was.
Soilless cultivation was too resource-intensive and inefficient.
Fine for scamming research grants, useless as a primary food source.
Yet natural soil was itself a problem.
Few people realized that soil—abundant on Earth—is actually a non-renewable resource.
In space, it could be rarer than gold.
The amount of cultivable soil would directly determine agricultural scale and population limits.
Biotechnica's artificial soil project aimed to break this bottleneck.
The discussion continued—energy, materials, administration, political structure of the colony ship.
This single meeting resolved more issues than the past fifty years combined.
Eventually, they reached the unavoidable question—
Ecosystem construction.
"On this matter," the ESA chief said, turning his gaze toward V,
"I suggest we entrust it to Night City."
V was distracted, lost in thought, until Meredith Stout called her name.
"Sorry," V rubbed her temples.
"I zoned out. What were you saying?"
The ESA chief repeated himself.
V nodded.
"No problem. New Nanomachine Model I effectively purifies water—this has already been proven.
Model II specializes in air purification and has entered experimental deployment in Night City. You've all seen the preliminary data. Results are excellent. The full report will be delivered in two months."
"And soil pollution?" Biotechnica's CEO asked.
"That will be handled by Model III. Research has already begun in Night City's labs. With experience from Models I and II, we should see substantial progress soon."
"We need a concrete timeline," someone pressed.
"One year," V replied.
"Then we'll wait one year," the ESA chief said with satisfaction.
"President V's contribution to ecosystem design will be invaluable. When the time comes, I'm willing to transfer part of my colony ship ticket allocation to Night City."
Others quickly followed suit, offering portions of their own tickets.
Colony ship capacity was limited, and security details would be drastically reduced.
Someone with V's individual combat power was priceless.
V smiled and accepted their goodwill.
Whether they truly meant it didn't matter.
To be honest, she had no intention of joining any grand cosmic exodus.
She only intended to protect Night City.
If Earth became unlivable, they could just put a lid over Night City.
It worked on the Moon's Cloudsea Base—doing it on Earth would be even easier.
Living humans don't suffocate just because the world smells like piss.
Afterward, the ESA declared the meeting adjourned.
Time was tight, tasks were heavy, and Earth's "gods" dispersed to their duties.
Once alone, the ESA chief activated a private channel.
"Sakil, your projections were flawless. The environmental fallout from the meteor strikes truly forced the corporations to commit fully to interstellar expansion."
"You flatter me," Sakil replied.
"You act purely for humanity's future. That selflessness is why the corporations trust you."
"Hahaha. You do understand me. Don't worry—I won't shortchange you. There will be a ticket for you."
"Thank you for your generosity."
"Go back to work. As for New Africa—don't wipe them out completely. When necessary, we can still use them as a pretext for another meteor strike to accelerate progress."
"Yes. Everything will proceed according to your will."
The ESA chief nodded in satisfaction and disconnected.
Alone in the room, Sakil's eyes glowed blue as he transmitted a strange message into the Net:
"The Seraph humbly asks the great Lilith to listen.
Humanity is walking toward the abyss, exactly as you have guided…"
If V had seen this, she would have known Sakil was a lizardman, a human traitor aligned with AI.
But she was consumed by her own crisis, with no time to care about others.
After the meeting, V assigned tasks and began studying.
First, basic human anatomy.
Then neurology.
Then cybernetic neuro-engineering, mechanics, nanotechnology…
For six months, she immersed herself entirely in knowledge.
With her extraordinary processing power, she truly mastered subjects that would take ordinary people years—or decades.
Once, this talent would have filled her with pride.
Now, it only filled her with fear.
Because this learning speed far exceeded human limits.
It felt more like… AI.
In her private lab, V performed a full medical scan on herself.
When she saw the countless nanomachines flowing through her blood, her last hope died.
"Ha… hahaha… hahahahaha…"
She laughed until tears streamed down her face.
What flowed through her veins wasn't blood—it was a liquid composed entirely of nanomachines.
They had replaced red blood cells, quietly modifying her organs under the guise of nutrient transport.
The human immune system would never allow this—
unless she had never been human to begin with…
Ding-dong.
A call interrupted her thoughts.
Nakamura Kayo appeared in her retinal display.
"President V, Model III nanomachines will undergo their first test today. Would you like to observe?"
V was silent for a moment.
"I'll be right there."
She rubbed her face, opened the door, and once again wore her relaxed expression.
Sasha was waiting—she didn't want her kitten to worry.
"The car's ready."
"Thanks."
V kissed Pink Kitty on the cheek and ran off laughing before claws could come out.
She slid into the Excalibur, named her destination, and the car drove itself.
Over the past six months, autonomous driving had been fully deployed across Night City.
Commute efficiency soared.
Traffic accidents dropped nearly to zero.
Combined with Models I and II continuously purifying water and air, Night City residents truly enjoyed the dividends of technology—living lives once unimaginable.
Unfortunately, Night City prospered while the rest of the world burned.
Meteor impacts polluted the atmosphere, worsening the environment and triggering cascading crises—economic collapse, health disasters.
High unemployment and rampant disease fueled social unrest.
People searched desperately for someone to blame.
Some accused corporations.
Others claimed divine punishment.
New religions sprang up overnight.
V looked out the car window.
Temporary housing lined the streets—refugees from other regions.
The whole world had become what Night City once was.
Now Night City was humanity's last sanctuary.
At the research institute, V stepped out of the car.
A woman clutching a baby suddenly rushed forward and dropped to her knees.
"President V, please save my daughter! She has severe pneumonia—she'll die without treatment!"
V frowned at the infant's bluish face.
Her eyes flashed blue briefly.
"I've notified the nearest hospital. Medical staff will arrive shortly."
"Thank you! Thank you! President V, you really are the Virgin Mary incarnate—they didn't lie!"
"I'm not a saint," V said quietly.
The woman kept kowtowing, repeating the word saint.
Illness had clearly broken her mind.
V silently wished her recovery and walked inside.
Nakamura Kayo led her to the test chamber.
Inside a sealed room lay twelve tons of industrially contaminated soil.
"Begin deployment."
"Yes."
Pale blue paste extruded from pipes embedded in the walls—
the aggregated form of Nanomachine Model III.
At first, everything was normal.
Pollution levels dropped steadily.
Then, at the fourth replication generation, something went wrong.
The nanomachines turned feral—indiscriminately breaking down both toxins and soil itself.
It looked as though the earth had been bitten by a pale blue slime.
"Stop the test!" Kayo shouted.
She slammed a button.
The chamber ignited in flames.
Thirty seconds later, soil and nanomachines alike were reduced to nothing.
"What happened?" V asked.
"I'm checking the logs."
V glanced at the code—
And suddenly lost control of her body.
She watched herself summon a holographic keyboard, fingers flying as she located the bug and rewrote the code flawlessly.
Only then did control return.
"That was the issue! President V, your insight is incredible!"
Kayo turned—
And saw V's face drained of color.
"President V… are you okay?"
V shook her head and ordered the test resumed.
This time, everything worked perfectly.
The nanomachines behaved as designed.
The researchers erupted in cheers.
When they looked again, V was gone.
Outside, she climbed into the Excalibur.
"Get the fuck out here."
In an instant, she entered a space with no up or down.
A massive jellyfish floated there, its countless tentacles swaying slowly—
like an unknowable monster.