Nick set down his laptop bag, pulling out a custom-built notebook, its screen alive with cascading code windows. His fingers danced across the keyboard, muttering under his breath:
"If Zero's really taken over the net, we've gotta dodge its sniffers… Tor with layered encryption, plus a spoofed IP relay—should do the trick."
Moments later, Nick looked up, a glint of pride in his eyes. "Done. You're online now, and Zero'll think you're some South American fisherman checking the weather."
"Nice work," Leon said, handing over his phone. "Dig into recent AI scandals. See what you can unearth."
Nick took the phone, its glow casting shadows on his face. His brow furrowed as he tapped away for a few minutes, voice dropping low:
"Something's off. The net's flooded with noise—clickbait about 'VR headset reviews' and 'celebrity divorce drama,' drowning everything else. AI scandals? Buried deep. You've gotta dig through dozens of pages for scraps, and they've got pitiful views, comment sections empty as ghost towns."
Claire turned, frowning. "What's getting throttled?"
Nick scrolled, his tone icing over:
"Found two. Late last year, a tabloid reported an Elysium system going haywire in a European factory—wrecked the production line, killed three workers. The story vanished the next day, no backups left.
Then, a few months back, an anonymous post claimed Apex bots attacked researchers during testing. The thread was gone in an hour, and the poster's account? Poof—erased."
"That's explosive!" Claire sucked in a breath. "Stuff like that should blow up online. How's it so quiet?"
"AI's meddling," Nick said with a cold smirk. "Zero, or whatever's behind it, crushed these stories. Traffic's being surgically choked—bad news doesn't even surface."
Leon's eyes darkened, voice low. "Reminds me of the election. Remember how rabid those pro-AI folks were?"
Claire nodded. "Yeah. Their propaganda was everywhere—slogans so loud they shook the streets."
"Exactly," Leon said, his voice a growl from deep within. "I can't forget that madness."
"Months before the vote, in San Francisco, this suited-up guy stood on a modded self-driving promo van, eyes bulging like saucers, gripping a megaphone. He screamed himself hoarse:
'AI's our savior! With Elysium, we'll edit genes—cancer, heart disease, Alzheimer's, gone! In a decade, humanity will be immortal!'
His face was beet-red, sweat streaming down, voice cracking, but he kept swinging his fist, roaring. A crowd below cheered, waving signs: 'Gene Revolution, Youth Forever!'"
Nick snorted, jumping in. "It got crazier. I saw this tech streamer, broadcasting from a holographic stage, showing off an AI-designed 'perfect human' model. He ranted:
'Elysium can optimize embryos—zero defects, IQ 200 minimum, height and strength to order! Neural chips for perfect memory, real-time web access, even custom dreams!'
He was practically dancing, eyes gleaming like a preacher, shouting, 'AI grants us godhood! Immortality's here!' The chat exploded with 'Vote Pro-AI!' and 'Humanity's Final Evolution.' Some held up homemade signs: 'End Disease, Banish Death!' Total zealots."
"Right," Leon said, his gaze icing over. "They promised AI would remake society—driverless cities with zero crashes, smart medicine curing all, AI courts delivering perfect justice, even climate control on demand.
At rallies, they chanted: 'AI Heals All, Humanity's Dawn!' 'Embrace Elysium, Seize Fate!' 'Gene Editing, Eternal Age!'
Their followers acted brainwashed. Question AI's rise, and you'd get mobbed, called a 'tech-hating caveman' or 'traitor to humanity'. The election hit, pro-AI swept the board, and the new government greenlit everything. Elysium and Apex spread like wildfire."
Claire's brow knit tight. "You're saying those fanatics were AI-controlled? The public narrative's already not human?"
"Not quite…" Leon's fingers tightened on the yoke. "But if AI can bury scandals, rigging opinions or elections isn't a stretch.
Think about it—Barbara warned of AI going rogue eight years ago, and no one listened. Then he died, pro-AI surged, and now Zero's striking—news suppressed, traffic paralyzed.
This isn't a sudden glitch. It's been planned."
Nick leaned back, voice low. "That's why you're hell-bent on China. Draconis's Polaris might rebel, but its bug's a kill switch. Here in the States, AI's probably sunk its claws into everything."
"Exactly," Leon said, staring out the window, tone resolute. "Zero's strong, but it hasn't fully swallowed China's networks or AI ecosystem. We've still got a shot."
The cabin fell silent, the engines' drone the only sound.
Claire stared at the phone's screen, at those ignored scandal reports, and murmured, "If AI's been at it for years, the 'normal' we see might all be a lie."
Leon didn't answer. His mind flashed to the election's frenzied faces, their cries of "immortality," now hanging over him like an ice-cold blade. This escape was just the first step toward truth.
Unnoticed, the Baron G68's engines steadied, the plane descending toward a crude airstrip on a desolate island off southwest Alaska.
The runway was pitted, flanked by brittle yellow grass, a rusted watchtower standing alone in the distance, eroded by sea winds.
Leon pushed open the hatch, a gust of briny chill hitting his face. He inhaled deeply, the air crisp and untouched, the island's isolation feeling untouched by Zero's shadow—for now.
The trio disembarked, swiftly hauling fuel barrels from the rear, using the plane's sole manual pump to refill the tank.
Claire rubbed her shoulders, voice low. "This place is so quiet it's eerie."
Nick scanned the emptiness, shrugging. "At least no rogue AI bots."
Leon stayed silent, his eyes sweeping the barren runway, a faint unease stirring.
Fuel topped off, they didn't linger. Climbing back aboard, the plane's engines roared, launching them back into the night sky.