The atmosphere was subdued in the small apartment adjacent to the control room. The dim lighting from the wall synthesizers cast a warm glow on the surfaces, giving the place an almost welcoming feel despite the gravity of the conversation.

  Alan, seated on the minimalist couch, had just finished his account. Jennel, leaning against the table with her arms crossed, watched him in silence. The story was heavy, macabre. The scent of dried blood seemed to linger in the air between them, even though Jennel had never left the Base.

  She finally shook her head, sighing softly.

  "You know what? For once, I’m glad I didn’t go."

  Alan raised an eyebrow, a joyless smile flickering across his lips.

  "I won’t lie to you, me too. But beyond the horror, there are lessons to be learned."

  Jennel nodded, waiting for him to continue.

  "First, we now have confirmation that the rules of the Gull selection take priority over certain security protocols. That gives us some room to maneuver if we know how to exploit it."

  She frowned.

  "Priority over what exactly?"

  "Over anything related to the organization of the Bases. It means that if we can insert ourselves into their logic, we can bypass certain restrictions."

  Jennel slowly nodded.

  "And the second lesson?"

  Alan leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling for a moment before responding.

  "The AIs of the Bases, like Léa, are subordinate to the one on the ship in orbit."

  This time, Jennel straightened up.

  "That’s a problem."

  Alan shrugged.

  "It could be a problem, or an opportunity. It depends on how we use it. For now, I don’t know what to do with it yet."

  A silence settled between them. Then Alan turned to Jennel.

  "And you? How are the Base stabilization measures coming along?"

  Jennel hesitated, surprised by the question.

  "Honestly… it feels so secondary compared to what you just told me."

  Alan frowned and leaned slightly toward her.

  "No. Not at all. It’s just as important as the quest for the rings, if not more. We can’t move forward if the Base doesn’t hold together. What have you put in place?"

  Jennel sighed and sat down beside him.

  "Alright, listen. First, we organized mountain walks. No matter their physical condition, everyone can go thanks to the nanites. It gives them some fresh air, a sense of freedom."

  Alan nodded.

  "Good. And?"

  She smiled slightly.

  "We also set up educational sessions on how the Base’s vital systems work. Léa helps make it more engaging. There are demonstrations, discussions, and it reassures people about their future here."

  Alan listened with renewed attention.

  "You’re going further than I expected."

  Jennel gave a small smile.

  "That’s not all. We started using recordings from shuttle flights to project holograms in common areas and even inside the slots. It allows people to see something other than these walls. The sea, the mountains, the vanished cities..."

  Alan watched her with a glimmer of pride in his eyes.

  "That’s brilliant, Jennel."

  She shrugged.

  "We’re also thinking about creating activity groups to prevent isolation. But it’s still in progress."

  Alan placed a hand on hers.

  "You’re doing incredible work. We can’t build a future without giving meaning to the present."

  Jennel, moved by Alan’s sincere enthusiasm, leaned slightly closer to him. Their exchange subtly shifted in tone.

  "You know, what I’ve become… it’s surreal," she murmured.

  Alan looked at her attentively.

  "What do you mean?"

  She took a deep breath, searching for her words.

  "I’ve changed so much that sometimes I wonder if all this is real. If this world isn’t just… a simulation, an illusion designed to keep us here. What if all of this… if we… were just fragments of something else?"

  Alan took his time before responding.

  "You’re making a mistake in reasoning, Jennel."

  She lifted her eyes to him.

  "What mistake?"

  "You still see a 'before' and an 'after.' The Wave, the nanites, the Gulls… you see all of it as a rupture, a collapse followed by an awakening. But that’s not how history works. There’s no old reality and new one. Just a sequence of events. This world isn’t an illusion. It’s the logical continuation of what came before."

  Jennel lowered her gaze, pensive.

  "So… there’s no waking up from this."

  Alan shook his head.

  "Nothing to hope for, nothing to fear."

  She was silent for a moment, then leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

  "Then we have to make do."

  Alan smiled softly.

  "Yes. And you do it better than anyone."

  They remained like that for a while, silent, two Survivors in a world that continued to reinvent itself before their eyes.

  That morning, a sharp cold settled over the Base, and the Survivors preferred to stay sheltered in their slots. The holographic projectors displayed various programs to keep minds occupied: detailed images of extraterrestrial plants cultivated in the Base’s gardens, impressive footage of shuttles flying over the Altai Mountains from recent missions. The atmosphere was calm, almost frozen by the biting cold that seeped in despite the Base’s thermal regulation system.

  A figure appeared at the entrance of the first floor of the central tower. A tall, athletic woman walked in with a confident stride. Her blonde hair was braided practically, and her sharp eyes scanned the space with an almost military focus. She wore a simple but functional outfit, a mix of expedition gear and on-site adaptations, without unnecessary embellishments.

  She stopped when she saw another woman standing in front of a terminal, hands clasped behind her back.

  "I’d like to see Alan," she said in a slightly hoarse voice from the cold.

  The woman she addressed did not move immediately. After a brief silence, she slowly turned around, an amused smile on her lips.

  "I’m not his secretary."

  The Norwegian froze for a moment before her eyes widened slightly in recognition.

  "I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you…"

  Jennel kept her smile but said nothing, observing her with cautious curiosity.

  "My name is Ingrid," the blonde finally said in a more measured tone. "I was in Oslo when it all started. I followed a Seeker who led us far east… to Minsk."

  Her gaze darkened slightly before she continued.

  "He was killed there. I ended up resigning myself to following his murderer. He was a Seeker too."

  Jennel’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  "You resigned yourself?"

  A joyless smile flickered on Ingrid’s lips.

  "Let’s just say I wasn’t his type. Otherwise… I would have had to use my gift."

  She let the silence linger. Jennel, attentive, didn’t press her, allowing Ingrid to speak at her own pace.

  "Does Alan know that there are a few people here with… unusual abilities?"

  Jennel raised an eyebrow slightly.

  "What kind of abilities?"

  "Not always useful ones. But some are."

  She paused, fixing Jennel with intensity.

  "Like mine."

  Jennel crossed her arms, her gaze sharp.

  "And what’s your gift, Ingrid?"

  Ingrid met her eyes and said in a calm tone:

  "I can implant fixed ideas in people’s minds… until they act on them."

  Jennel, taken aback, stared at her, trying to determine if she was joking.

  "You mean you can manipulate people’s thoughts?"

  "Not exactly. I can’t make them do what they don’t want to… but I can intensify an idea, make it persistent, until it becomes an obsession… and they end up acting on it. It doesn’t always work, but often."

  Jennel frowned, intrigued.

  "Show me."

  Ingrid hesitated, then smirked.

  "I wouldn’t dare…"

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Jennel opened her mouth to insist, but at the same moment, she felt an itch and instinctively raised her hand to rub her eyes.

  Ingrid burst out laughing.

  "And there you go."

  Jennel slowly lowered her hand, realizing the absurdity of her gesture. There had been no reason to rub her eyes… yet the thought had imposed itself, irresistibly.

  "Do you do that often?" she asked, crossing her arms.

  "Rarely. It gives me terrible migraines that even the nanites struggle to relieve. Once, I even had to take aspirin… that says it all!"

  Jennel let out a small amused laugh.

  "And with Alan?"

  Ingrid lost some of her confidence and briefly looked away.

  "I… tried. Just once. To get a good spot for a shuttle ride."

  "And?"

  Ingrid sighed and shook her head with an ironic smile.

  "I got a nasty bout of nausea and a terrible seat."

  Jennel burst out laughing, while Ingrid added with a shrug:

  "You have a strange guy!"

  "I’m aware," Jennel replied with a smile.

  Jennel crossed her arms and looked at Ingrid with curiosity.

  "Do you know any other Survivors with… interesting gifts?"

  Ingrid pretended to think, then raised an amused eyebrow.

  "Oh yes, I can think of at least two: Roberto and András."

  Jennel tilted her head, waiting for the rest.

  "Roberto makes excellent pasta. The best."

  Jennel burst out laughing.

  "An invaluable talent, indeed!"

  "Don’t mock! In this world, eating well is a luxury."

  Jennel shook her head with a smile.

  "And András?"

  "He’s more serious. He disrupts the nanites' linguistic capabilities."

  Jennel narrowed her eyes, intrigued.

  "How so?"

  "When he talks to someone, he can alter the nanites' comprehension. For example, he can render automatic translations useless or make a person hear one word instead of another. It’s subtle but… unsettling."

  Jennel slowly nodded.

  "That’s interesting."

  Ingrid smiled.

  "I thought you’d like that."

  They walked over to a table and asked Léa for two coffees. The machine synthesized the drink, and Jennel brought the cup to her lips.

  "Meh… Still needs work to match the chocolate," she said, grimacing.

  Ingrid blew on her coffee, nodded as she tasted it.

  "Léa, take notes," she joked.

  Jennel set her cup down and changed the subject.

  "So, you came by land?"

  Ingrid shook her head.

  "No. I left Oslo with a group of survivors. We crossed Sweden, then Denmark, and headed south to Poland. From there, we traveled to Ukraine, always avoiding the big cities."

  Jennel raised an eyebrow.

  "Ukraine? You crossed the whole country on foot?"

  "Not entirely. We found bicycles… We improvised. But it was risky. Too risky. We knew there were still disorganized armed groups scattered around."

  She sighed before continuing.

  "Eventually, we reached the southern coast. A ghost port, somewhere near Odessa. There, we found an old sailing boat still seaworthy. Only three of us had any knowledge of sailing, and even then, nothing serious. But we had no other choice. The land route to Turkey seemed too dangerous."

  A chill ran down Jennel’s spine.

  "How did it go?"

  Ingrid let out a bitter laugh.

  "Horrible. There were twelve of us when we embarked. The sea was calm at first, and then… the storm hit."

  She lowered her eyes slightly, her jaw tightening.

  "An entire night fighting against the waves. We couldn’t see anything, water was pouring inside, and the hull was on the verge of breaking apart."

  She paused before adding in a quieter voice:

  "Five went overboard. We couldn’t do anything."

  Jennel swallowed hard.

  "And you?"

  "We drifted all night, tossed around like rag dolls. By morning, the storm had calmed, but the boat was half-flooded, the sail in tatters. We were exhausted."

  "How did you survive?"

  "We spotted the Bulgarian coast. We rowed like mad with whatever we could. Eventually, we ran aground on a beach. It was over."

  A heavy silence settled between them. Jennel stared at her coffee, searching for something to say.

  "I’m sorry," she finally murmured.

  Ingrid shrugged, a sad smile on her lips.

  "It’s in the past. We survived."

  Jennel nodded softly. There were so many stories like this… Too many.

  Jennel placed her cup on the table and studied Ingrid intently.

  "Do you think there might be others with… gifts, here in the Base?"

  Ingrid shrugged, her gaze momentarily lost in the steam of her coffee.

  "I don’t know. It’s not exactly something people announce to everyone, is it?"

  Jennel nodded.

  "True. But do you think we should look for them?"

  Ingrid thought for a moment, then answered:

  "Maybe. But it’s not easy. Some might not even realize they have a special ability. And others, like me, prefer not to talk about it… because of how people might see them, or just out of caution. But one thing’s for sure: there must be more in the other Bases. Statistically, that seems obvious."

  Jennel slowly nodded, the idea already taking root in her mind.

  "We’ll need to talk to Alan about this. Come back tomorrow morning, he’ll be here."

  Ingrid smiled as she finished her coffee.

  "Gladly."

  She stood up, cast one last glance at Jennel, then walked away at a leisurely pace, leaving her to her thoughts.

  .

  Alan and Johnny were helping Jennel organize introductory shuttle flights: a ten-minute ride over the mountains and valleys surrounding the Base. The idea was simple: to offer the Survivors a moment of lightness and escape, a chance to look at the world from above and forget, if only for a few minutes, the situation they were living in. However, the success was such that managing the rotations became a headache. Alan and Johnny, standing near a holographic scheduling board, struggled to establish a plan that would satisfy everyone.

  Jennel was writing down names and time slots as the Survivors signed up, their smiles sometimes mixed with excitement, sometimes tinged with apprehension.

  "We won’t be able to fit everyone in today," Johnny remarked as he looked over the list.

  "We can always do more tomorrow," Jennel replied, focused on her organization.

  Alan nodded, adjusting the schedule, when a voice suddenly echoed around them, cold and authoritative.

  "Commander, an unknown shuttle is approaching the Base in a direct line. Arrival in nine minutes. I am activating the security measures you have prepared."

  Léa had just intervened.

  Alan felt his stomach tighten at these words. An unknown shuttle, approaching in a straight line… This was no casual visit.

  The alert had triggered instantly, and already, security protocols were in place.

  "Display the trajectory," he ordered, his eyes fixed on the map Léa projected before him.

  On the hologram, the two patrolling shuttles, which had been quietly flying over the surrounding mountains, had altered their routes to converge quickly toward the intruder’s position.

  On the ground, the response was even faster. Four of the standby alert shuttles stationed on the Base’s improvised landing pads lifted off abruptly, forming a defensive perimeter around the site. At the same time, Imre’s security teams were gearing up, donning their equipment and positioning themselves at strategic entry points.

  Léa continued her report:

  "The four remaining shuttles are being recalled. Ground unit deployment is in progress."

  Alan turned to Johnny and Jennel, who had halted all preparations for the introductory flights. Jennel read the situation on his face. He didn’t need to speak for her to understand.

  "Do you want me to stay here?" she asked.

  Alan hesitated, then shook his head.

  "No, come with me."

  They hurried toward the control room, where Bob and Yael were already waiting, observing the situation on the screens. The air was tense.

  "Léa, request identification," Alan ordered.

  A moment later, the AI responded:

  "I have contact, Commander. They are requesting a holographic communication with the Chosen One."

  Alan exchanged a quick glance with Jennel.

  "That’s too obvious a method," she murmured.

  "I know," he replied, frowning. "No one would risk communicating this way… unless they wanted to be sure we were listening, and not just us."

  He took a deep breath before stepping onto the holographic communication platform.

  "Alright, let’s do this."

  The room dimmed slightly, and a three-dimensional image came to life at the center. Two figures appeared in a sharp projection, surrounded by slight transmission interference.

  The man was tall, with an angular face and dark skin. He wore a uniform similar to Alan’s, though in a darker shade. Beside him stood a woman with a regal posture, her hair shaved close, dressed in a sleek, military-style outfit devoid of unnecessary embellishments.

  "Greetings," the man declared in a composed voice. "My name is Thabo. I am the Chosen One of Karoo, and this is Awa, the Chosen One of Comoé. We have come in peace to make contact."

  Alan studied their expressions carefully. No visible aggression, no apparent hostility, but a noticeable vigilance in their gazes.

  He crossed his arms and replied in an even tone:

  "I am Alan, Chosen One of the Monts Ka?kar. Your arrival is a surprise."

  A brief silence followed. Jennel, standing beside Alan, fixed the newcomers with intense scrutiny, trying to decipher their true intentions beneath their impassive expressions.

  The first contact was made. Now, the real stakes had to be understood.

  The shuttle of the Chosen Ones landed outside the repulsion field, monitored closely by those of the Base. The rain that had been threatening since late morning finally arrived, forming a damp curtain and making the atmosphere heavier. The air was thick with humidity, and raindrops formed small rivulets on the hardened ground.

  Thabo and Awa stepped out of the shuttle with restrained elegance, standing tall under the pounding rain. They waited at the edge of the repulsion field, observing their surroundings with a mix of caution and curiosity. When the field dissipated locally, a figure appeared in the opening: Jennel, indicating the path they should take. Behind her, Imre’s guards accompanied them at a respectful distance, their weapons not raised but at the ready.

  The rain intensified as they walked, seeping into their clothes and streaming down their faces. Jennel, upon reaching the main entrance, stopped under the monumental archway, slightly shielded from the downpour. She crossed her arms and waited for the two visitors to join her before declaring with an unreadable smile:

  "I wouldn’t want you to accuse me of trying to drown you."

  Thabo and Awa exchanged a glance before Awa replied:

  "It’s true, all this water is unusual."

  Thabo added, shaking his head slightly:

  "As is the temperature. But we are here to speak with Alan, not discuss the weather."

  Jennel tilted her head slightly before responding, her tone turning more serious:

  "You’ll speak with Alan once I get satisfactory answers to my two questions. Why are you here? And why, Thabo, do you have Awa’s ring?"

  Thabo, irritated by Jennel’s stance, furrowed his brow and demanded impatiently:

  "Who are you?"

  Jennel remained unfazed. She held his gaze calmly, her expression neutral, tinged with slight amusement.

  "Your welcoming hostess, waiting for answers."

  A heavy silence stretched under the relentless rain. Awa and Thabo exchanged an uncertain glance. The downpour streamed down their faces, their soaked clothes clinging to their skin, yet neither seemed willing to break the tension settling in.

  Thabo crossed his arms, his jaw tightening, while Awa, after a sigh, finally responded:

  "I gave him my ring because the role of Chosen One was not for me, and the Base of Comoé was becoming difficult to control."

  Jennel tilted her head slightly, her piercing eyes locking onto Awa’s.

  "That answer is illogical, Awa," she retorted.

  Awa narrowed her eyes, surprised by Jennel’s confidence.

  "Only in the context of the competition," Awa continued. "But before you arrived, and after the neutralization of the Alta? Base, there was no longer any possible Selection, therefore no competition. But apparently, it was a mistake to think it was out of service."

  Thabo preferred to cut the verbal exchange short.

  "We are here to try and understand the peculiarity of your rapid growth and how you reactivated the Asian Base."

  Jennel raised an eyebrow, sensing that their curiosity was more than just a desire for knowledge.

  "What do you intend to do with this information?"

  Awa briefly averted her gaze, as if weighing her words, but Thabo, true to his nature, responded with a smirk:

  "An opportunity to seize, perhaps."

  Jennel didn’t need to interpret their words. She read Thabo and Awa’s Specters like an open book, detecting behind their words a multitude of calculations and speculations. Thabo was a strategist, ambitious and pragmatic. Awa, however, seemed more resigned, almost passive, as if merely going along with the flow.

  Jennel didn’t need to consult Alan to know they were trying to size up their adversary. She stared at them for a moment longer before turning on her heels, her tone becoming formal again:

  "Follow me."

  Thabo and Awa stepped under the grand archway, crossing the threshold between the desolate outside world and the inner universe of the Base.

  The immense plaza, bathed in amber lights, spread before them, elegant and understated, providing direct access to the pathways leading to living quarters and strategic areas.

  They ascended the stairs to the first floor of the central tower. Thabo observed the surroundings with an analytical gaze, memorizing every detail, every layout. Awa, more reserved, stole furtive glances at Imre’s guards, silent, distant, yet attentive.

  Inside a vast room with dim lighting, Alan waited alone, standing in the center. The walls displayed a virtual panorama of the surrounding mountains, creating the illusion of an open landscape.

  As they entered, he fixed them with a calm yet piercing gaze.

  The real discussion was about to begin.