CHAPTER 23: EMILY – CLIFFHANGER ENDING
“ROSE… BEFORE I GO, I JUST WANNA TELL YOU, YOU WERE FANTASTIC. ABSOLUTELY FANTASTIC. AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT? SO WAS I!”
–THE NINTH DOCTOR, DOCTOR WHO
Nearly two hundred years ago, mankind took hold of the celestial beast known as Caitlin Daisy, shackling it to the ambitions of those who sought to strip its bones bare. This ancient comet, once a wild thing hurtling through the void, was now just another pawn in the long game of human conquest. They rode it out into the black, reaching for its riches, but their triumphant return never came. Caitlin Daisy disappeared, swallowed by the vastness of space, and with it went every hope of their return. For nearly two centuries, its fate was a question left unanswered.
For Emily Smith, the answer was personal. This comet wasn't just a ghost from a forgotten age; it was a battlefield. And from the moment she stepped foot on its icy surface, she had known what she was walking into. The mission was clear, the dangers obvious. She came prepared for all of it. Cloaked in gear that could outclass most military arsenals, she was a one-woman army, ready to defy the odds. But her armor wasn’t just for protection; it was an extension of the vow she had made—to save the ones who needed saving, no matter the cost.
From the beginning, the odds had been stacked against them. The team, barely hanging together by a thread, had splintered as soon as the storm hit. God Love Omega had thrown himself into the fight, and while his strength was impressive, even he wasn’t invincible. Darnell? She’d lost sight of him—never a good sign when trust was already a fleeting commodity. And Mike... Hajime... No, hope wasn’t going to bring them back. But if they were still breathing somewhere, she’d find them.
The machines had come out of nowhere, cold, relentless, and driven by a purpose Emily still didn’t fully understand. The first attack had taken one of their own, and now the stakes were higher than ever. Hostile automatons weren’t something she hadn’t planned for, but plans don’t mean much when you’re this far in the black. Even if her team hadn’t been scattered like ash on the wind, the machines were another layer of hell altogether.
But Emily? She was no stranger to hell. And she wasn’t here to survive. She was here to win. To finish it.
This time, the mission was clear in her head. Get in, get them out, and make sure nothing gets left behind—not even the memories of this cursed place. The Fab Lab, the ice caverns, Nervous—they were all just parts of the same trap, set long before she ever arrived. If she could drag even one more person out, she would. But this time, the rules had changed.
She wasn’t just an adventurer anymore. She was the saboteur they wouldn’t see coming, the fixer who had gone off the grid. Cloaked from their eyes, cloaked from AVP, she had become the invisible force between life and death, and this time, the game was on her terms. Huis might’ve thought he had made the last move, but Emily hadn’t finished playing yet.
The hallway stretched out before her, more of an industrial catwalk than a conventional passageway, suspended high above a rugged, ice-laden chasm. The metallic grating beneath her boots rattled softly with each step, giving her a view of the uneven rock formations far below. The air was frigid, and wisps of vapor clung to the edges of the catwalk’s metal rails, frozen into delicate frost patterns that contrasted with the rough-hewn stone surrounding the path.
The catwalk extended out from the Fab Lab, its steel frame attached to the sheer walls of the comet’s cavern, as if bolted into place to hold the fragile human construction against the brutal, ancient ice. It stretched forward, leading to the shadowy maw of Nervous, where the faint outlines of glass doors hinted at the facility’s cold and sterile interior. The doors reflected only the harsh glow of distant ceiling lights, keeping the contents of the facility hidden in an ominous gloom. Here, the catwalk bridged the gap between the manufactured and the natural—between the fabricated structures of humanity and the untamed, frozen core of the comet.
About halfway down the corridor, the catwalk branched into a crossroads. One path extended to a smaller platform—a docking area—where a massive, heavy-duty elevator was stationed. The platform was lined with yellow caution markings, and dark stains marred the surface, remnants of heavy use and oil. The elevator itself was an imposing structure, its bulky frame melding seamlessly with the cliffside. Its track ran upwards along the jagged icy wall at a steep incline—around 65 degrees—stretching out of sight, as if daring gravity to defy its ascent. The elevator's bottom edge hovered just below the ceiling, the steel cables that supported it appearing almost invisible in the shadows above, like some waiting predator ready to descend.
Everything felt fragile and temporary in the presence of the surrounding ice. The natural cavern walls, composed of stratified layers of frozen stone, seemed to ripple, their jagged edges a stark reminder of the unforgiving environment. It was as though the man-made structures could vanish at any moment, swallowed whole by the depths of the comet. The atmosphere felt heavy, the cold biting deeper, and each step across the catwalk echoed in the silence, reverberating back from the cold, unyielding walls.
Emily crouched low, her eyes locked onto the two PUnos M robots at the entrance to Nervous. They were hideous, yellow things with boxy monitors for faces and clamp-like hands. They scuttled on four legs, huddled near the entrance as if they’d been told to sit and stay. The glass doors loomed just beyond them, faintly reflecting the cold light of the corridor. Emily narrowed her eyes.
“Well, there’s a badger in the bag if I ever saw one,” she muttered under her breath. The robots didn’t seem capable of entering. Not just unwilling—but physically incapable. “What’s wrong with you lot, eh?” she wondered, her mind working the puzzle. It hit her in a flash. It wasn’t just these two. The spiders couldn’t enter either, could they? Only those creepy white doctor bots had the run of Nervous. A restriction, maybe, in their programming? It made sense in the twisted logic of the place.
Emily flexed her wrist, feeling the cool pressure of the weapon hidden up her sleeve, its mechanism snug against her palm. “Well, well, it’s time to cause a bit of a ruckus.” The piledriver was an ugly thing, made for close work, but it was efficient—precisely what she needed.
She moved carefully, easing past the PUnos M without much concern for being seen. They were too dumb to spot her. Slipping through the darkened doors of Nervous, she was immediately greeted by a familiar chill, though the darkness here felt far heavier than before. The whole room stank of death—old, metallic, and sour.
She stopped short, staring at the gruesome scene before her. The headless bodies of Mike and Hajime were sprawled on the ground, lifeless, their blood pooling under them like spilt wine at a tavern brawl. Bloody footprints—small, disturbingly small—led away from the bodies, vanishing into the shadows beyond.
Emily clenched her fists. “Oh, bloody hellfire...” She swallowed hard, pushing down the sick feeling rising in her throat. The children’s bloody tracks could wait. She had business with the killer.
And there it was. The Dotour medical robot—now just a shell of its intended purpose—still anchored in place, its beehive-like structure humming faintly. Designed as a state-of-the-art medical assistant, this machine had originally been equipped with an NPU to process advanced medical data, perform surgeries, and offer diagnostic assistance. But it wasn’t patching up patients anymore—it was tearing them apart. The sight of its broken, blood-streaked form brought a surge of anger.
Emily stepped forward with deadly intent, her jaw tight. The robot’s frame was small for what it had done—just 1.2 meters tall—but its presence loomed large. The diagnostic sensors that once interpreted patient vitals now scanned only death, and its medical database was stained with the blood of her friends. She flexed her wrist, activating her weapon, and with one swift motion, brought her arm down. The piledriver slammed forward with a sharp hiss, smashing through the Dotour's head with a vicious clang.
The machine shuddered violently, its optical and acoustic sensors flickering briefly before it slumped to the ground, lifeless.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Emily muttered coldly. She stepped over the broken robot, her heart pounding. “Now let’s see what you’ve got stashed away in that tin back of yours.”
She knelt down and pried open the panel on its back, where the Dotour’s operating system had housed its NPUs. Medical robots like this were supposed to be the ultimate assistants—capable of performing precise surgical tasks and offering life-saving recommendations—but now they were nothing more than tools of death.
There were two NPU canisters nestled inside the compartment. Only one of them had the telltale glow, indicating the presence of a demen. She flicked her fingers over the interface, calling up the faces. One of them was Hajime.
“Oh, my poor poppet.” Emily sighed, her hand trembling for a moment before she pulled the canister free. "You're in here, aren’t you? Still bloody stuck."
The other canister’s face flickered to life, and there was Mike. Silent, frozen.
But as she examined the compartment further, her brow furrowed. There was something else. She reached underneath the storage compartment and felt a hidden latch. With a sharp tug, a smaller panel slid open, revealing a third NPU nestled deep inside the machine. Unlike the others, this one wasn’t for storage—it was wired directly into the robot’s control systems.
Emily turned the device in her hands, her stomach tightening. She activated the display, and what appeared on the screen made her blood run cold. A head, stripped of skin, reduced to muscle and bone, its eyes wide open, staring out at nothing.
“Good Lord above...” She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. This NPU hadn’t been a passenger. It had been the Dotour. This was the demen that had controlled the robot, turned it into a butcher.
"Well, ain't that just the ticket," she whispered, half to herself, half to the silent room. “Controlled by a flayed head.”
She stood up and crossed the room to the broken glass window, where the robot Darnell had fried was still half-hanging from the shattered frame. Emily peered inside its broken form, and sure enough, another NPU was lodged in its back.
Her heart sank. The realization hit her like a steam train. Every last one of these machines—they weren’t just mindless automatons. They were all demens. Every bot, every creature, every horror stalking this comet—they were all controlled by something, by someone. Not some corrupted Artificial Intelligence.
“Well, bollocks,” she said quietly to herself, staring out at the darkened corridor beyond. “This just got a hell of a lot more complicated.”
With Nervous finally under her control, Emily turned her attention to locating the Idioblast. She’d been through enough twisted events on this comet to know that the answer was hidden somewhere in the labyrinthine machinery of this place. A few minutes of fiddling with the controls, and there it was—its possible resting place, tucked within the very heart of Nervous’ mechanisms.
“Right,” she muttered to herself, a glint of determination in her eyes. “Just a matter of getting there now.”
But as she prepared to set off, a faint sound made her pause. Her blood ran cold. She hadn’t been alone in here—there was something else. Suddenly, the memory of the tiny bloody footprints she’d spotted earlier hit her like a hammer.
She turned, scanning the dim corners of the room, and there, slinking through the shadows, she spotted them. Four small figures—two Amberlees and two Molly-Cats, each barely a meter tall—watching her with wide, feral eyes. They moved like apes, their hands pressed to the floor as they crouched low. Their faces were smudged with dried blood, and their bellies bulged grotesquely, distended from their grisly meal.
Emily’s heart sank as the realization hit her. "Oh, you filthy little beasts," she muttered. These girls had been eating Mike.
She had seen these faces before—identical, perfect replicas of the actresses in their childhood years. Emily had watched their films, some of them iconic classics of Old Earth cinema. But now, staring into their hollow, hungry eyes, she saw nothing of the innocence those films had once projected.
The girls, though savage, moved with an unsettling cunning. Their animalistic behavior masked a sharpness of mind that made Emily uneasy. They had clearly been watching her. They must have seen her smash the Dotour bot’s head, and now they were calculating their next move.
“Well,” she whispered, “don’t say I didn’t try to be nice.”
She took a tentative step forward, her voice gentle but firm. “Hey there, poppets. Let’s calm down, eh? No need for any more trouble.”
But the moment she moved, they hissed at her, a low, feral sound that was equal parts warning and aggression. The clone girls bared their teeth, ready to bolt. Emily clenched her jaw, her patience wearing thin.
Before they could make a move, Emily’s hand darted to her belt, and with a flick of her wrist, she activated a strobe hidden in her sleeve. The bright, disorienting light flashed in rapid bursts, overwhelming their senses. The girls screeched and stumbled, momentarily blinded and confused.
“Let’s not be difficult, now,” Emily muttered, pulling out a sleek nanoinjector from her other pocket. One by one, she moved in swiftly, administering the sedative. The girls' resistance was fierce, but short-lived. With a few deft motions, she injected them, watching as their tiny bodies slumped to the ground, unconscious and harmless.
Emily wiped her hands on her trousers, sighing in exasperation. “Bloody hell...,” she muttered, standing over the unconscious girls. “Savage, cunning little things. And not a shred of gratitude.”
Satisfied that the threat was neutralized for now, she turned her attention back to her mission. The Idioblast was waiting, and she wasn’t going to let anything stop her from finding it.
She approached the terminal cautiously, her fingers brushing over the controls. The interface blinked to life, its cold, sterile glow illuminating the list of names. Emily had seen tech like this before—hell, she’d probably tinkered with its ancestors back on Earth. But this was different. It was a machine that processed lives, turned people into data, and held their souls in a digital prison.
“Alright, let’s see what you lot have been up to,” she muttered, scrolling through the list of demens currently active. Her heart jolted as she came across Hajime’s name. But something about it wasn’t right. She’d assumed Hajime was stored in her severed head’s NPU. Yet here she was, active, within the ENCEPHALON itself.
Emily leaned back, eyes narrowing. “So whose demen is in that head?” she murmured, a prickle of dread running down her spine.
She continued scrolling, pausing as another name caught her eye—Molly-Cat. That, too, was strange. Molly-Cat was supposed to have died three years ago. What was she doing here? It didn’t make sense. Molly-Cat’s demen had somehow found its way into the ENCEPHALON, as if she’d never left. Emily couldn’t know the truth, but she felt the wrongness, the faint stirrings of a larger mystery.
The list was unsettlingly long, confirming far more than she’d anticipated. Mike was here, as well as Hajime’s identical twin—Shin, she realized, though she didn’t know the girl’s origin yet. Shephatiah, Professor Darnell, God Love Omega... all of them had been turned into demens. They were inside this infernal machine, ghosts of their former selves.
Emily stepped back from the terminal, her mind reeling. Here was proof that the ENCEPHALON didn’t just kill—it kept. These were all souls it had devoured, forced to live on as data. And in this dark machine, they continued to be pawns.
“Well, well, aren’t we all just bits and bobs now,” she whispered, a mixture of frustration and curiosity in her voice. It wasn’t what she’d expected, but knowing who was where might just give her an edge. Now, she had to figure out what to do about it.
The room was quiet save for the faint hum of the terminal. She’d neutralized the immediate threat of the robots, but the weight of what she’d uncovered pressed heavily on her. Whatever was happening here, it was more than just a horror show. It was a nightmare factory, and she wasn’t even sure she had the tools to fight it.
But that had never stopped her before. She would just make the tools she needed, from the assets at hand.
Emily took a deep breath, eyeing the NPU with Hajime’s head, weighing her options. If Amberlee’s demen had somehow been transferred here, it was time to put it back where it belonged.
She slid the NPU into the ENCEPHALON’s main interface slot, watching the machine whir to life. The process was swift—a few clicks, a quick flash of light, and it was done. Amberlee was returned to the system, her demen finally freed to inhabit the virtual landscape once more.
Now, it was her turn. Emily pulled a nearby headset over her eyes, securing it with a focused expression. She’d navigated simulations before and thought she knew what to expect. But as she activated the device, felt her body go slack, and her consciousness slid seamlessly into the ENCEPHALON, she realized just how limited those other experiences had been.
This virtual reality was unlike anything she’d encountered, its depth and complexity revealing her prior arrogance. In those lesser simulations, she’d often felt as though their limitations had capped out well before her own mind had. But here, she sensed no such constraint.
Emily took a breath, flexing that untested muscle and expanding her demen to explore her surroundings, shaping herself into a mind within the machine, rather than a virtual form.
As her formless demen settled into place, Emily began to shape her surroundings—a demesne equidistant from all others, giving her the perfect vantage point. Here, within the coded architecture of the ENCEPHALON, she felt a strange kinship with Laplace's Demon—the theoretical entity that could know the position and momentum of every particle in the universe, and thus predict the future with absolute certainty.
Her lips curled into a wry smile. This wasn’t the universe, but it was close enough. With the right tools and knowledge, she could see everything, predict every move. This system was built on data, on inputs and outputs—nothing more. And Emily was about to become its demon.
Emily’s demesne extended outwards as she continued to assess the situation, her presence reaching further into the depths of the ENCEPHALON. Beyond the sprawling masses trapped in The Lobby under Xipe-Totec and Shephatiah’s twisted cult, she noted another peculiar place. God Love Omega had a demesne of his own, and within it were several familiar names: Hajime, Shin, Mike, and Molly-Cat.
Curious, Emily shaped a door from her fortress, connecting her space directly to God Love Omega’s realm. She took a moment to secure her demen, then opened the door and crossed the threshold, letting the scene unfold before her.
Unexpectedly, a presence met her almost as soon as she entered. It was Shin—Hajime’s former AI augment, now a demen of her own. Shin paused upon sensing Emily’s arrival. Her AI systems had detected the presence of Emily’s formless demen, so Emily took on a physical shape, giving Shin a nod of acknowledgment.
Emily studied Shin carefully, piecing it together. “You’re Hajime’s AI, aren’t you?” she asked, a smile breaking across her face. “I knew it! I knew you’d be the one to sort things out in here.” She nodded to herself, giving herself credit for her own foresight.
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Shin met Emily’s gaze, unblinking. “It was Xipe-Totec,” she replied, her voice even. “It had become… invasive. I did what I had to, disabling its functions, which should’ve left it incapable of any further harm. However, it appears that its demen self-deleted before I could confirm.” Shin glanced around the demesne. “If it still exists, it’s hidden well.”
Emily took a moment to sense the network around her, the vast interconnectedness of the ENCEPHALON. She shook her head. “I don’t sense it anywhere,” she said, her brow furrowing slightly. “And Shephatiah’s demen is gone too.”
Shin nodded, as though she’d anticipated this. “They may have removed themselves, but I can’t say for sure.” She took a step back, considering the vast simulation before them.
“Well,” Emily said, looking out the door at God Love Omega, “at least we have an idea of what we’re dealing with. If Xipe-Totec’s really gone, it’s one less threat to contend with. And with your help, Shin, I’m betting we can finally put an end to this nightmare.”
The moment Mike and Molly-Cat entered, Emily’s focus sharpened. Molly-Cat, so familiar and yet so distant, looked at her with the eyes of a stranger. Emily felt the pull of a sudden realization—a memory, a pattern, a long-buried detail coming to the surface. She reached out, grabbing Molly-Cat’s hand.
“Come on,” she said, guiding her through a doorway that materialized on the other side of the demesne. As they stepped through, the scenery shifted, morphing into an immense and sprawling view of Earth, rimmed by the Halo—the vast ring of debris floating in its orbit. This was Amberlee's demesne, reimagined as the space where she had lost her sister.
Molly-Cat’s gaze darted around, and Emily could see the instant recognition in her eyes. The Halo. That day. Emily stood silent, watching as Amberlee appeared, facing the direction where she knew the impossible would occur. The Sinii alien—a giant, self-aware virus that could become nearly two-dimensional and move through solid objects—was the "debris" that had penetrated Molly-Cat’s space suit years ago, an alien anomaly no one could have anticipated. Amberlee clenched her fists, staring hard into the void.
“Quail told me what it was,” she murmured, not turning. “A Sinii, a giant virus, folding in on itself. That’s what killed you.”
Molly-Cat, stoic, barely glanced her way. “I don’t care about that now,” she replied, her tone dismissive, as if the gravity of the memory was lost on her.
Amberlee shook her head, her voice tinged with an almost feverish desperation. “But I do,” she insisted. “I have to make it right.”
Emily watched, feeling both removed and intimately involved. As time seemed to slow, the alien began its approach, cutting through the debris with precision. It was then Emily made her move. The Sinii wasn’t just any entity—it was an echo of the Idioblast itself, an image replaying in the ENCEPHALON. It was as if the simulation was conjuring up the alien, its mind replaying Amberlee’s worst fear as a shadow of itself.
She realized that if the Sinii could be controlled, even on a rudimentary level, she might solve one of her greatest challenges. She summoned her focus, her demen flickering as she exerted her influence over the scene, subtly guiding the flow of events.
She directed a thought towards Molly-Cat, a whisper of an idea nudging its way into her mind. Molly-Cat hesitated, then moved to embrace her sister from behind, gripping her tightly as if they could face the danger together.
The Sinii drew closer, folding and undulating through the vacuum of space, its translucent form vibrating as it passed. The alien’s whip-like body collided with their demens, bisecting each of them perfectly, the severance as flawless as the path of a razor blade. Their figures held for an instant, still as statues. Emily’s demen crackled as she absorbed the data just before it began to overwrite itself.
She didn’t wait for the scene to unravel. She booted everyone out of the demesne, capturing the data, then carefully renaming two instances of the split demens. They would live on as Ambercat and Molly-Lee. Emily laughed and laughed to herself about that decision. She shoved all four demens into separate rooms in her demesne for now, until she could explain.
It wasn’t perfect, but for now, it was enough.
Emily slipped back into the real world, her consciousness snapping into place as she lifted the headset. Only a few seconds had passed, though it felt like hours. She took a moment, steadying herself, and muttered, “So much to do, so little time.” At least time dilation was on her side; everything in the simulation had unfolded in the blink of an eye.
Nearby, one of the four clone girls stirred. Emily moved quickly, examining each one. Molly-Cat had more freckles, she remembered, and in a different pattern. She sorted them into two groups accordingly, labeling one Amberlees and the other Molly-Cats.
Then she paused, considering the clones’ size, their half-matured forms. An idea flickered to life, and she turned to the interface at Nervous, calling up the Clone Printer logs. Four clones, it showed, but the job was canceled after two attempts. The reason glared back at her: insufficient clone ink. Only 45 kg remained.
Emily crossed her arms, mentally piecing it together. “She tried to print them both at once.” She nodded slowly, recalling the details of other cloning attempts she’d read about. Cloning two entities simultaneously from a limited source often resulted in shared material, dividing resources between the two. It was clear now that Amberlee, perhaps in haste or desperation, had set the printer for herself and Molly-Cat together, hoping it would yield two perfect bodies.
Instead, the machine had split the available resources, generating half-sized clones for each twin. If Amberlee had focused on printing just one of them at a time, they might have ended up with at least one fully matured clone. But now, there were only 45 kg of clone ink remaining, barely enough for a small body.
Her mind made up, she selected one clone each from the Amberlee and Molly-Cat groups and placed them on the bunks, attaching headsets. Then, after a moment’s thought, she took her cutting tool and singed off a length of hair from each, marking them. “Long hair’s the originals,” she muttered, “short hair’s the new.”
She executed the command to transfer the demens. Watching the interface, she could see the data flowing, her awareness sharp and ready. And as the transfer completed, she reached into her arsenal for one last tool. The XenoFlame.
Responding to her touch, it came to life as a sentient bioform weapon, fully aware of its brief existence. Emily commanded it to incinerate the bodies of Hajime and Mike, its fiery blast scorching away all traces of blood, sanitizing the scene. The room lay charred and twisted by the time the XenoFlame flickered and died, its purpose fulfilled.
Turning back, Emily watched as the new Amberlee and Molly-Cat began to stir, looking around in confusion.
“It’s just another simulation,” she said smoothly, leaning into the lie to keep them calm. But their blinks were slow, their movements sluggish—she’d forgotten the nanoinjectors. She began rummaging through her supplies, searching for a counteragent.
Suddenly, the sound of gunfire erupted from the entrance to Nervous, followed by the explosive crash of the two Punos robots going down. Emily whipped her head toward the hallway, catching sight of black-clad operatives swarming the area, moving with military precision.
Stay calm, she told herself, activating her cloaking device. The girls were hidden, motionless. For now, if they kept still, they’d be safe.
But she knew her time had run out.
Emily slipped the headset over herself one final time, knowing these next moments would be her last shot to set things right. Within the ENCEPHALON, she could make time stretch, allowing herself to prepare. In an instant, she was back in her demesne. God Love Omega, Shin, Hajime, and Zeus stood waiting.
She turned to them all, explaining, “I’ve transferred Amberlee and Molly-Cat’s demens into those clones. They’re small now, sure, but I didn’t want them waking up until I knew they were safe. They deserve a chance to figure out what’s next on their own, away from any meddling. Once they awaken, they will lead the way forward for you all.”
She let the words hang, assessing her teammates’ faces. They all looked at her, absorbing the implications of what she’d done. It was Shin who first opened her mouth to respond, but God Love Omega cut her off, his voice calm but direct.
“Why can’t you lead the way forward, Emily?” he asked, his tone almost accusing. “You know the Heat better than anyone.”
Emily’s gaze softened as she turned to him, the hint of a sad smile pulling at her lips. “I’ve never been a leader, God Love Omega. I’m a survivor.” She shrugged, waving a hand as if to dismiss the idea. “I get through things. I survive them. I shouldn’t take people with me; I’ve always known it’s been safer that way. ”
God Love Omega met her eyes, unwavering. “Sounds like a choice you made to justify not caring about the consequences, Emily.”
She laughed bitterly, giving him a nod of reluctant agreement. “Maybe so. It’s true that I’ve always been... comfortable, with those consequences. At least, until now.” She thought back to the twins, her expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. “It’s different this time. They deserve better. They’re not pawns in some twisted show—they’re children, just starting over.”
Shin frowned, crossing her arms as she took a step forward. “Then if you can’t lead, what’s the plan?”
Emily shrugged again, her voice soft. “My plan is to protect them long enough to figure it out for themselves. This is their chance to have a say in things, to choose their own paths forward. They’re stronger than we know. They deserve a shot at something beyond this.”
Zeus gave a thoughtful nod, seeming to take her words in stride. “And what about us? What about you?”
“What about me?” Emily said to herself.
She took a breath and began, “I need you all to understand something. I was never just a regular castmate on this show. From the beginning, I knew I’d been chosen for a reason. I’ve survived more simulations and hostile missions than most. And up until now, I’d assumed Huis had a purpose for me to keep going.” She glanced at each of them, her eyes hardening. “But it’s different this time. This time, he’s playing for keeps, and that means he intends for all of us to die, including me. All of us being killed here is the entire point of all of this. I was aware of this from the beginning, and foolishly believed that I could save you all before it happened. I think I probably wound up getting most of you killed, in the end.”
She turned back to the others. “Honestly, as to why I can’t lead you, there’s actually a practical reason that has nothing to do with what I just said. There are gunmen encroaching upon my position in reality, and it is only the time dilation within this simulation that gives me enough time to help all of you. I wish I had arrived sooner. When I leave the ENCEPHALON, I’ll only have seconds to make this work. I need to grab Mike’s NPU and slot it in—it’s lying on the floor right now. Once I get it in place, I’ll issue the command for Demen Expurgation, purging you all back to the NPU’s.”
They exchanged uneasy looks, and God Love Omega spoke up. “So what’s the plan? If they’re coming, we should fight back. Maybe I can transfer myself into one of the big robot bodies back on the Mine. I can handle a few mercenaries, especially if I’m armored. Put me in one of those big drill motherfuckers that got me.”
“Same here,” Zeus added, his face lighting up with a reckless grin. “Though as I recall, wasn’t there a robot in the big Pit that was over a hundred feet long?”
“No shit?” Replied God Love Omega, astonished by the prospect.
Emily shook her head. “These aren’t your standard soldiers. They’re elites, outfitted to take down whatever stands in their way. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have something worse in their arsenal—something like a siege mechanoid. Those things are designed to take apart entire fortresses.”
Hajime’s expression grew tense. “Let’s fight them.”
“No,” Emily said. “We’re fleeing. The only way to make it out of this mess is to transfer your demens back to your NPU’s before they arrive. I’ll have to issue a purge command, sending each of you to safety in your respective NPUs.”
Hajime looked toward the door leading to one of their absent cast-member’s demesnes, her gaze intense. “What about Darnell? We can’t just leave him behind.”
Emily hesitated. “I’m not exactly inclined to save him, but...” She trailed off, her lips pressed tight. “If you’re going after him, I won’t stop you.”
Hajime nodded, already moving toward the door to Darnell’s demesne. Shin tried to protest by blocking her off with an arm, but Hajime turned, a flash of resolve in her eyes. “I have to try.” And with that, she disappeared into Darnell’s space.
Emily turned to Shin. “Listen, the clone ink can only handle one body, and only a petite one at that. But given your and Hajime’s codes, it’s a tight fit—barely enough for a small person.” She thought back to the controls. “I’ll need you to make the call when the time comes.”
Shin looked back at her, understanding the weight of what she was saying. “So, if it comes down to one of us…”
Emily nodded, watching her expression carefully. “Exactly. We’ll let what happens next decide.”
“Emily,” Zeus said, frowning. “If you’re exposed, they’ll come after you, too.”
She nodded, “So you understand?”
Emily was deep in thought, contemplating this and what else she could accomplish in this moment, when the door on the far side opened, and Hajime stepped back in. She wore a sly grin, and around her neck, Emily noted the gleaming gold Wu Tang Clan chain, now hers.
“No Darnell?” Emily raised an eyebrow, smirking.
Hajime chuckled. “Oh, yeah. No.”
Before Emily could respond, Shin stepped forward, arms crossed, shooting Hajime a reproachful look. “You had to take his chain, didn’t you?”
Hajime shrugged, a hint of mischief in her smile. But her amusement faded as she saw Shin’s serious expression.
“I ain’t take nothin’; that’s not even his chain—it’s mine, just like his, only mine got that real shine, feel me?”
Emily cleared her throat, catching both their attention. “Listen up, both of you. We don’t have time for souvenirs. I’ve done the math, and here’s the situation: there’s only enough clone ink left to print one of you back into the real world. Forty-five kilos. It’s barely enough to print a full-size adult form. So one of you can get a real body, while the other…” She hesitated. “The other has to go into the NPU.”
Hajime frowned, confused. “And what exactly is an NPU?”
Emily met her gaze squarely. “A Neural Preservation Unit. It’s where your demen’s stored in a metal cylinder… basically, your severed head. It’s a way of saving you for later, if someone finds a way to clone you again in the future.” She paused, weighing her words. “It’s an indefinite storage. And, with Huis running things, that’s a long shot.”
Shin spoke up immediately. “I’ll go into the NPU. Hajime, you take the real body. You have more experience outside, anyway.”
“No way!” Hajime shot back. “You can’t just… consign yourself to some cylinder on the off chance someone brings you back someday. You’re the one who should be cloned. You’re far more valuable in the real world than I am.”
Shin crossed her arms defiantly, eyes blazing. “I’m just an AI. A really advanced one, sure, but I was created for you. You’re a human, Hajime. It’s your right to have a body again. I was always meant to support you, not the other way around.”
Hajime shook her head, resolute. “I don’t care if you’re an AI or whatever. You’re not some tool or backup plan. You’re a part of me. And besides, you’re way more competent at everything. I’ve seen you strategize—you’re capable of things I wouldn’t even think to do.”
“Maybe so,” Shin said, voice softer now, “but you’ve got the will to live, Hajime. You’ve always been the one to push us forward, to keep going no matter what. I’d just be the technical expert in the background, making sure things function. I don’t need a real body for that.”
They continued, each presenting their case, their shared respect and deep bond evident in their words. Hajime’s voice wavered, but she pressed on. “If you give me the body, Shin, I’ll just feel guilty. I can’t walk out there without you. It’s like… having half my soul ripped away.”
Shin reached out, taking Hajime’s hand. “That’s exactly why you need to go out there. We’re still two halves of one whole, and I’m always with you, even if it’s just in this place.” She looked over at Emily. “We’ll find a way to reunite, someday.”
Emily watched them, touched despite herself. She’d never expected such an impassioned debate over a choice that seemed so simple. But these two weren’t just two beings fighting for survival—they were, together, a single entity refusing to be split apart. She waited, letting them have their moment, a glimmer of hope rising in her chest.
“Well,” she interjected, breaking the silence, “it sounds like you two have some things to work out. But whichever of you gets the real body, know this: you’re both vital to what comes next. And whoever goes into the NPU? You’re not going to be forgotten. We’ll make sure of that.”
Hajime and Shin looked at each other, each weighing the future they would have to face apart.
Hajime finally sighed, looking at Shin with a pained smile. “Whatever happens, we’ll always be together somehow, right?”
She looked over at Shin with a grin, saying, “You know, we could just both go back into the NPU, right? Then, you could still be in my head like always.”
Shin frowned, shaking her head. “Not a chance, Hajime. That’d be like...a butterfly turnin’ back into a caterpillar. You really think I’d be cool with that?”
Hajime sighed, “I just wish we could go together, no matter what…”
Emily’s eyes lit up. “Maybe you can. Think about it—a Demen is indivisible, just like a prime number. But when two Demens come together, it’s like multiplying two prime numbers; they form a unique, larger prime in a way—something new, but still whole.” She snapped her fingers, excitement building. “Maybe you two could merge, forming a combined Demen that retains both of you but becomes something entirely new.”
Shin raised an eyebrow. “What would that even be like?”
Hajime’s eyes sparkled as her face lit up with excitement. “So you’re sayin’ Shin and me can go back to being in the same body again?”
God Love Omega, standing nearby with his arms crossed, chuckled, though a trace of unease flickered in his expression. “You wouldn’t really be a person anymore. You’d be... the product of two demens. And sure, that sounds big, but it’s not the same thing.” He paused, searching for words he struggled to find. “It’s... it’s like this. Being a person, that’s something special—there’s a spark in us, in our human spirit, that no machine can touch. Once you merge with something like that, are you even you? Or just... a machine wearing a face?”
He watched Hajime closely, concern furrowing his brow. “It’s like losing what makes you real. Sure, you’d be powerful, maybe untouchable, but would you still be... alive in that same way? That’s the question. You can’t just fuse two souls and say it’s the same as before.”
Just then, Zeus, who’d been listening in, cut in with a bit of light-hearted bravado. “I dunno, God Love Omega. You got a human spirit in a half-robot body, right? What if this is just like, the reverse? We’ve got a machine spirit here, wanting to live human-style. Ain’t the human spirit just the spirit that lives in a human anyway?” He shrugged, flashing a grin, his words somehow cutting through the tension with an accidental wisdom.
He shrugged, laughing, but his words seemed to sink in. “I’m just saying, if the human spirit’s all about adapting, then maybe it’s just what you make it, wherever it ends up.”
Shin chimed in, catching the thread of Zeus’s logic with a spark of enthusiasm. “He might have a point. The world’s shifting all the time, isn’t it? Why can’t we try? If human nature has always been about pushing boundaries, why stop now?”
God Love Omega fell silent, folding his arms, looking at Hajime, then back at Shin. A begrudging smile crept across his face, though he still shook his head. “It’s bold, I’ll give you that. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s a hell of a risk.”
Emily burst into laughter, clutching her sides. “Oh, God Love, you did say something really spot on. You said this was ‘gonna make something entirely new.’” She wiped a tear from her eye, grinning at the two of them. “You know, if you combine ‘Shin’ and ‘Hajime’ in Japanese, you end up with a phrase that means ‘New Beginning.’”
Shin and Hajime exchanged glances, and a look of realization dawned on their faces.
Hajime’s face split into a grin, and in perfect unison, both she and Shin said, “Oh yeah.”
She’d done everything she could here, made peace with every last detail, and now it was time to face whatever waited for her back in the real world. Her heart pounded with a fierce resolve, an old friend of hers that always seemed to show up just when she needed it most.
God Love Omega turned to Emily, his gaze unbreakable and intense, like steel under a furnace. “Listen, you think this game’s about bravery? Nah, that’s small-time. It’s about being the kinda heat that gets up under the world’s skin, makes it squirm. You’ve done that already, and now it’s time to take it even further. You’re not just heat, Emily—you’re the fire that turns all this iron into something new. You’re the force that makes reality check itself. So, go out there and show them who owns this. Show them what happens when you’re more than just a survivor—you’re the one thing they couldn’t stop if they tried. You are the heat that brings this whole universe to its knees. Now go make it remember.”
Emily met his gaze, her voice a bit firmer now. “I’ll do what I do best. I’ll keep pushing forward until there’s no path left. I’ll cover for them, for all of us, and I’ll make sure that whoever takes the next step can do so without someone breathing down their neck.”
She let the words linger, looking around at each of them. “I won’t lead. But I’ll clear the way, and if that’s enough for any of you to follow, then maybe I’ve done something right for once.”
God Love Omega, silent for a moment, finally gave a nod, his expression softening. “Then I guess we’re all in this together, whether we know the way or not.”
She gave a tight smile. “I’ve used up every trick I’ve got to get us this far. I knew I’d run out of options eventually.” She looked at each of them one last time, memorizing their faces.
Emily pulled herself back to reality, the headset slipping from her face as her consciousness reconnected with her body. Within the cover of her cloaking device, she moved quickly, carefully swapping the headsets from the twins she’d just guided in the ENCEPHALON to the others lying on the bunks. She adjusted the cloak’s field so it remained centered on the bunks, leaving them hidden, while she slipped outside its range.
She let her gaze linger on Mike’s NPU, the console, and the containment unit housing the idioblast. Temptation rose in her, whispering that she could take it and bargain her way out of this mess, escape with her life. But then, she glanced over the concealed shapes on the bunks, the ones who still depended on her. In the past, she had made peace with collateral damage, but this time… this time, the cost was too high. Redemption was a rare opportunity, and she couldn’t turn away from it now.
She steeled herself, leaving the cloak active over the girls as she stepped out. Just as she’d expected, the soldiers were moving in. She flicked her wrist, deploying the last of her sentient bioform fireflies, sending them buzzing out like miniature swarming stars, enough to stall the intruders for a few precious seconds.
In a swift, practiced motion, she rolled over to the NPU slot, jammed Mike’s cylinder into place, and rose to face the console. She could sense the soldiers closing in, their weapons trained on her back. Her fingers moved fast over the touchscreen, selecting the remaining demens, and dragging them to the manual transfer session queue.
As the soldier shouted, „Bleib stehen!“ Emily froze for a split second, a wry smile flickering across her face.
“Oh, terribly sorry, loves," she replied, raising her hands slightly, "but I’m afraid I don’t speak German.”
With a swift movement, her fingers flew to the console, striking the Demen Expurgation command just as the shots echoed through the room. She didn’t feel any pain—just the impact, a brutal double-tap that sent her sprawling to the floor, her body crumpling like a ragdoll. Her vision swam, fading fast, but she could still make out the shadowy form of a mercenary leaning over her, rifle pointed directly at her head.
And then Emily’s adventures finally ended.