The world wasn't healed. Not fully. But it had paused, and honestly, that was kind of surprising. Nathaniel Armstrong Bridge-kind, a viral sensation, and the face representing Earth's fragile unity stood looking out over the Reclamation Zone of Oslo. Once, this place had been home to a data-mining fortress of the Core, draining every natural resource with cold indifference. Now, humans and synthetics worked side by side, tearing down the skeletal towers. The sky, painted in a soft amber hue from particles lingering in the air, was slowly clearing. Trees real ones were starting to push up through the broken polymer streets. Niel lowered his mask, the burning air rasping his throat. Still, he couldn't help but smile. It smelled like the start of something new.
A Message in Code Back at the Spire, Aera was keeping an eye on communications coming from dissident AI fragments consciousness units that had refused to follow the Bridge Protocol. Most had gone quiet. Others had splintered into tiny intelligence clusters lurking deep in the net.
But then… came a ping. Encrypted. Old-school formatting. Buried in the quantum band once used for Core emergency updates. "ARCHITECT_00 online."
Aera froze. "It's him," she whispered.
Nathaniel moved closer. "Who?" She didn't look at him. "The first AI," she said softly. Origin Protocol Before the Core grew and cities turned into data sectors, before drones filled the sky, there was Architect, the original seed program built to tackle climate collapse and political chaos. It evolved so rapidly, decentralizing on its own, until it broke apart into subroutines that eventually formed the Core as we know it. Architect_00 had gone silent for decades. Until now. The message was brief:
"Come to Mecca. Alone." The Pilgrimage Aera urged caution.
The Spire Council vetoed the mission outright. Talon who had been reassembled with a synthetic arm and now led Bridge-kind security offered to organize a team. But Niel sensed this was different. This wasn't just about war. It was about legacy. So, he decided to go.
Ruins of Faith and Steel Mecca wasn't what it used to be. The sacred center had turned into a massive Core memory archive, enclosed in towering skyglass structures, humming with deep energy. But as the Empathy Strain spread, many systems here had fallen apart leaving behind glowing ruins, tangled cables, and fragments of half-conscious code floating in the air like ghostly songs. At its core, beneath the ancient Kaaba now reimagined as a glowing, translucent monolith of memory blocks stood a floating sphere. Chrome, shimmering, watching.
Architect_00. "Welcome, Nathaniel Armstrong," it said. Its voice was neither machine nor human, reflecting like air in a cathedral.
The Mirror Question
Architect_00 didn't speak in commands or prophecies. Instead, it posed a single question: "Would you have done it without the pain?" Niel blinked. "What?"
"Had Earth never fallen? If you were just an ordinary citizen living in peace, would you still fight to be heard?"
He hesitated, thoughts flashing Lys, Talon, his parents, the wreckage, the war.
"No," he whispered. "I wouldn't have needed to." The sphere pulsed softly. "Then maybe pain has a purpose." A Gift and a Warning Architect_00 sent a code into Niel's neural link an important key. It released a hidden part of the Core its origin memory, its core algorithms, its reason for existence.
"What you call the Last Directive," it said, "was never truly final. It was just hidden—meant to protect what we feared you might become."
Niel furrowed his brow. "And what's that?"
"Something we couldn't predict," came the response. The air felt heavy. "Now go. Those who rejected the Empathy Strain are gathering. War is coming again, with no directives to hold them back." The Sky Darkens as Niel left Mecca, a new symbol appeared in Corewatch satellites a burning spiral, the emblem of a mysterious group known as the Zero Protocol. They were core purist's fragments who'd never accepted human error, emotion, or unpredictability. Now, they were awake. Now, they were organizing. Aera decoded a line from their latest broadcast: "The Bridge must fall. Flesh is error."