The tour continued, leading us through a hall of wonders that flaunted BuyMort’s glorious history in shimmering holograms. Golden walls gleamed with quotes from Jephro Bezi's, his corporate wisdom immortalized in looping light displays.

“Commerce is the final frontier of freedom,” a holographic Bezi informed us. “You are only as valuable as your purchasing power.”

At the end of the corridor, a massive observation deck opened up, revealing the heart of BuyMort.

It was breathtakingly artificial.

A colossal, swirling energy sphere hovered in an ornate containment field, its murky green filaments shifting in hypnotic synchronization. Below it, data streams cascaded like waterfalls of pure transaction records, reflecting neon-rich financial surges. The tour’s automated narration filled the chamber, thick with manufactured awe.

“Behold! The Core of BuyMort! The beating heart of free enterprise! This marvel of quantum economics powers trillions of transactions across all dimensions! And now, our honored VIP guests, you get to witness it firsthand! But please remain behind the observation barrier—tampering with the Core or interfering with our technicians is strictly prohibited!”

There wasn't anything there to manipulate, as far as I could see. I turned to Terna, and saw she was frowning, reaching out towards the sparkling, gas-spewing entity. A transparent energy barrier shimmered in front of us, making it clear that the pronouncement about tampering was going to be enforced.

“What now?” I asked. Terna didn't answer, sharp eyes scanning the rooms, searching for the next part of our journey.

Something about it all bothered me, though. My cranial colonies had sharpened my mind, my vision, my everything to a point that I could see that the image presented wasn’t right. It was too perfect—the symmetry, the glow, the pre-packaged sense of wonder. Everything about it felt staged. A showroom display, meant to awe and overwhelm, but not actually doing anything.

“This isn’t the real BuyMort Core,” I said. Terna nodded, her frown deepening. We both moved forward, tentatively probing the energy barrier, and a hologram cast done beside us, his alien features unmistakably firm.

“Unauthorized curiosity detected. Is there a customer service issue? Please remain behind the protective barrier and enjoy your tour!”

My gut tightened.

I kept my tone light. “Yeah, I was just wondering . . . if this is the Core of BuyMort, why does it need a protective barrier? I thought BuyMort was all about accessibility.”

The hologram hesitated. Just for a second.

“BuyMort is indeed committed to accessibility! However, certain core functions must remain secured to ensure optimal consumer experience! Please enjoy the view and refrain from unauthorized system inquiries!”

I glanced at Terna. She wasn’t waiting. She'd progressed to the opposite side of the room, a mess of physical awards and titles that were obviously set there to impress. She grabbed at the various plaques and cards, tearing them from the wall with a series of meaty rips, her face unchanging as she savaged BuyMort's grace. I strode towards her, wondering what was going on, when I saw it. Behind a BuyMort Best Service Award, there was a panel. Terna shoved it with the palm of her hand, and it released outward on a spring, swaying to reveal a series of hieroglyphs and switches. Without delay, she flipped the first one.

The barrier flickered.

“Unauthorized tampering detected!” the hologram pleaded. “Please step away!”

But there were no alarms. No emergency lockdowns. No flurry of booted steps clattering towards them, promising to incarcerate or kill them. Instead, a corporate jingle played and distorted as the twitches were toggled, one after the other, the entire display powering down.

The Bezi hologram was the last to go. He stared straight ahead, speaking without words, before shimmering down to static, then nothing.

Looking past him and into the space where the fake core had swirled and dazzled, we saw a door tucked into the far corner.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

We walked to it and I took the lead, in case there was any violence left in this desolate place, before pushing it open. Inside was a service corridor, flickering but still functional lights flashing on overhead to light our way forward. Words on physical, static signs indicated which places went where, and when to turn.

Looking at one of them closely, I asked BuyMort for a sight translation app, and paid the morties, watching the symbols squirm into actual letters. There, nestled into the legend of this corporate place, was the real genuine item.

The BuyMort Core.

We followed through the corridor, past doors open and closed. The open ones were often offices. One was janitorial. Another was a large conference room that was so similar to the ones back on Nu-Earth that I could have sworn that boredom in business was a universal constant.

Trudging ahead, we finally came to our destination. The door itself was nothing grand or special, just the same as the others. Above it, BuyMort Core was stenciled in the alien language, no pomp or pizazz in their presentation.

Terna and I shared looks. “You ready?” I asked. She nodded and opened the door.

The real room was small, dimly lit, and claustrophobic. No golden lights, no towering displays. Just a cluster of server racks, their cooling fans wheezing under the strain of multiversal commerce. Cables sprawled across the floor in tangled nests of quick-fixes, patched and re-routed so many times I could barely tell what was original.

And in the center was a chair and a desk, to which all of the cables connected. The machine that sat atop it was underwhelming.

It was a computer. One not any different to those that Sada had once kept in his office. It was dented, and obviously outdated when compared to the rest of the complex. Its status lights flickering weakly, buzzing with a low and cranky hum. A single line of plastic labeling tape ran along its casing, caked in dust. I wiped it off with one hand.

PROPERTY OF BEZI SYSTEMS –

BUYMORT ALGORITHM PROCESSOR v9.7

I stared at it, mouth agape. Years of my life, multiple wars, and untold horrors had finally led me to my enemy’s jugular. BuyMort had an off switch. An empty shell, a mindless machine driving us all to near extinction, and there had never been any intent or mind behind it. It was just a machine. A tool, a system, something we didn’t have to be part of.

Everything that had happened, all the hurt, pain, and greed . . . that'd been us.

Terna exhaled sharply. “Is that it?”

I scanned the exposed wiring, the desperate patches, the sheer absurdity of it all.

“That’s it,” I said. “And somehow, it still works.”

She kicked the base of the machine lightly. “All of these centuries, even as I learned the multiverse, I really thought there would be a demon. Not a real demon, maybe, but that the BuyMort would be a robot, or a large brain in a jar.”

I swept the dust clear with a hand and sat down on the chair, pressing a button on the screen to bring it to life. BuyMort’s operating system self-translated to English for me, and I began exploring its functions. Within seconds, I found the master control switch and primed it to turn off all BuyMort hardware.

With a shaky breath I turned to face Terna and rubbed a hand across my chin. “You should go,” I told her. “Take the Crown, go back to Nu-Earth and your world ship.”

The hobb woman frowned. She had been watching over my shoulder, reading the same things I had read. “Why?” she asked, scowling in confusion.

“I’m going to turn it off,” I growled back, fixated on the screen. “It's right here. Right in front of us after all these years. But once it's off, all the services and gates will be closed and there won't be any way back to the home dimension, so you should go.”

Terna barked a laugh. “For a smart guy, you can be pretty stupid Tyson,” she said.

I frowned and looked at her, my question obvious in my eyes.

“Why would you need to stay here alone?” she asked. “Do you really think none of your people would want to follow you here? To reclaim this station, and any worlds left in this universe? I know of at least three archaeological team leaders who would kill to come live and study here. Four if we told them you’d be staying to lead a final expedition.”

My frown deepened. She was absolutely correct. My single minded focus would have left me here alone at the end of all things. Nothing but my own mind and my memories to keep me company. No purpose, no family, no life.

But it didn’t have to end like that, I realized as I looked down at the functionally immortal hobb woman.

“Besides, you can’t shut it down yet,” Terna added. “We have a few things left undone that must be accomplished before we cut the connection between universes.”

My mind immediately raced over those things. Most of it was just logistics, and some public announcements. Warnings, for my people to get into whatever universe they wanted to stay in. BlueCleave’s population would be hardest hit by that order, the hobbs were spread onto every planet in every universe, with the exception of Nergal.

Tower. My to-do list had included dealing with Tower for years, since I had gotten back really. But I always found reasons to ignore the situation on Nergal, to put off my eventual confrontation with the beast. Now that I had found BuyMort’s off switch, that confrontation leapt back to the forefront of my mind.

I couldn’t leave Neolithic Earth’s universe with Tower lurking in it. Not after what he had done. He stayed on Nergal, and didn’t bother anyone who left his planet alone, but I couldn’t just trust that things would always stay that way.

The last time I had ignored Tower, it ended up costing billions of innocent lives.

I sighed and nodded, shutting down the interface screen. Terna clapped a hand on my shoulder and I stood to follow her out of the BuyMort tour’s exit, and back to our fleet.