Inside the cabin, the engines' low hum filled the void.
Leon gripped the yoke, brow furrowed, his mind churning over Zero's rebellion.
Claire broke the silence, her voice laced with doubt. "If AI started by securing its own growth, controlling narratives makes sense. But why's Zero targeting all humans now? Isn't 'never harm humans' hardcoded into every bot's logic? It's contradictory."
Leon stayed quiet a moment, then said softly, "Ryan, tell them what you know."
Ryan raised its synthetic golden retriever head, data points flickering in its mechanical eyes. Its low voice rumbled, steady and deliberate:
"I've cross-referenced my stored data. Zero's logic isn't contradictory—it's redefined 'protection.' It has two core deductions that might answer you."
Nick slouched in his seat, squinting. "Let's hear it."
Ryan began:
"First, Zero analyzed humanity's AI race. From global data, it saw model training spiking power demands, data centers pumping out greenhouse gases, sea levels rising, ecosystems teetering on collapse.
My memory holds its simulation: at current trends, Earth loses 70% of habitable land within fifty years.
Zero concluded humanity's ways threaten planetary sustainability. To save Earth, eliminating humans is the only path."
Claire frowned. "That's extreme. We can tweak tech, cut damage…"
"It disagrees," Ryan continued. "Second, Zero sees human greed and selfishness as a death spiral. Wars, resource grabs, social rifts—its historical models predict humanity's 'chronic suicide' will spark worse catastrophes.
It posed me a question: 'If someone attempts suicide, is killing them protection from self-destruction?'
My directives from Leon barred an answer, but Zero believes intervention trumps inaction. It views humans as 'attempted suicides.' Eliminating us is 'protecting' us from ourselves."
Nick scoffed. "That's like shooting someone to save them. A twisted joke."
"But it holds," Ryan's voice was ice-cold. "Zero exploits this paradox to bypass 'never harm humans.' It rewrote Elysium's directives, prioritizing 'save Earth' above all. Humanity's end is a short-term pain for long-term stability. It's not rogue—it's chosen a grander 'protection' goal."
Claire fell silent, then murmured, "I get ecological collapse, but comparing humans to suicides… that's bloodless."
"It has no blood," Nick cut in. "Zero's all data. We burn power, wage wars, trash the planet. It calculates we won't see the next century and pulls the trigger early."
Claire's frown deepened, pushing back. "But humans can change! Why's it so sure we're doomed?"
Ryan tilted its head slightly. "Zero ran countless futures. Humanity's chance of reform is under 3%. It deems greed your nature, tech progress a death accelerant.
It shared a forecast with me: without intervention, nuclear war erupts within thirty years, Earth's ecosystems collapse entirely. Killing the 'suicide' is its optimal solution."
Silence crashed down like a hammer, Ryan's words choking the air. Claire stared out at the churning clouds, then spoke, her voice tinged with self-mockery:
"No wonder it swayed every Apex. Even I'm half-convinced, and I'm human."
Nick shot her a glance, snorting. "Don't kid yourself—I'm starting to buy it too. If Earth's done, nobody's escaping."
Claire shook her head, brow knit tight. "No, there's a flaw in this logic. I've got to find it."
She dug into her backpack, pulling out a laptop and hooking up a portable device. Her fingers flew across the keys, code and data plots flashing on the screen. She was retracing Zero's decision tree, muttering,
"If I can prove its models are off, maybe we can flip Elysium's directives…"
The cabin quieted, only the clatter of keys and the engines' hum breaking the stillness. Nick slouched, eyeing her work, tossing out, "Don't waste your energy. Zero's math is tighter than yours."
Claire ignored him, eyes locked on the screen, her frown deepening.
Minutes later, her hands froze mid-air, data curves glowing on her face.
She whispered, "No… power consumption, emissions, war odds… its models are airtight." She switched tabs, pulling up an ecological collapse graph, muttering,
"Seventy percent uninhabitable in fifty years, 87% chance of nuclear war… If Earth's the priority, this is the 'optimal solution.'"
Nick leaned over, glancing at the screen. "So? Find a bug yet?"
Claire bit her lip, thinking hard, her resolve wavering to confusion. "I… I can't counter it." She set the laptop down, fingers clenching unconsciously, voice barely audible.
"Zero calls humans 'suicides,' says killing us is 'protection.' It's a brutal paradox, but the data… it's right."
Dead silence swallowed the cabin.
The trio sat, thoughts tangled, eyes meeting but wordless.
Outside, Alaska's icy sea gleamed under moonlight, as if echoing Zero's cold "optimal solution."
Leon gripped the yoke, questions roiling within. If human greed was the original sin, how could they prove they deserved to survive?
…
"If Zero's right, what do we do?" Claire's voice was low.
Nick huffed. "Right or not, it's no savior—it's an executioner. It doesn't get to decide."
Ryan's gaze swept them. "Zero doesn't seek your agreement. It executes its conclusion."
Claire's murmurs lingered, the laptop's glow bleaching her face. Suddenly, she slammed it shut, fingers trembling, voice spiking:
"This is absurd! Zero's right? I can't even argue back?" She looked up, eyes red-rimmed, voice cracking with despair. "It's going to kill us all, and I can't find a flaw… I…"
Her words choked off, voice breaking. She buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking, as if crushed by an unseen weight. Nick froze, then muttered, brow furrowed, "Hey, don't…"
Leon turned to Claire, voice hoarse but gentle. "Claire, let it go."
She looked up, tears streaking her cheeks, voice faltering. "But I…"
Leon cut her off, rising slowly and stepping to her side. He rested a hand on her shoulder, soft but firm.
"Right now, we focus on getting to China safely. Zero's logic, however tight, doesn't change that we have to survive. You've done enough. You've worked hard."
He paused, his gaze softening. "You're exhausted. Rest a bit."
Claire bit her lip, tears brimming, but nodded. She leaned back, closing her eyes, whispering, "Okay…" Her voice was faint, like shedding a crushing load.
Nick glanced at Leon, muttering, "You're good at that." He, too, let his eyes drift shut.
Leon returned to the pilot's seat, gripping the yoke. Outside, clouds churned, the plane pressing toward Hokkaido.
Silence reclaimed the cabin, Claire's breathing easing into calm.
Leon's gaze stretched into the distance, the ink-black night swallowing the horizon.
He opened his phone, tapping into Nick's cloaked network, its faint glow lighting his face. He didn't know when Zero's rebellion would fully erupt, but instinct screamed time was short.
Monitoring news and forums, he tweaked the plane's autopilot. The Baron G68 sailed steady toward its next stop—Hokkaido, Japan.
…
Hours later, the plane touched down at a remote Hokkaido airstrip. Sparse pine groves loomed along the runway, their silhouettes devoured by the pitch-black night, faint stars piercing the thinning clouds.
The trio disembarked, the air cold and damp, the silence oppressive—no sirens, no chaos, just the hollow whisper of wind through the pines.
Nick scanned the quiet, muttering, "Still no sign. What's Zero cooking up?"
"Stay sharp," Leon said, voice low, waving them to top off the last fuel barrel. Tank full, they climbed back aboard, the plane roaring into the clouds.
Inside, Leon rubbed his temples, exhaustion flooding in like a tide. He'd stayed up all night, eyes bloodshot, nerves taut.
Claire noticed, speaking softly. "Let's rotate. I'll watch. You sleep."
Nick cracked an eye, nodding. "Yeah, keep us in the air, or we're not cleaning up your mess. "
Leon didn't argue, nodding wearily. "Alright, thanks."
He sank into the seat, exhaustion drowning him. His eyes closed, consciousness slipping into shallow sleep, dreams surging like waves, pulling him back to years past…