When humanity first reached into space—toward Mars, its moons, and the asteroid belt—it triggered a new gold rush. Investors from every corner of Earth poured their fortunes into the stars, building factories, launching ships, and stripping the void of its riches. Mars, once a barren, lifeless rock, transforms into a thriving colony. Massive factories process asteroids, extracting rare elements. Advanced material synthesis becomes the backbone of the new economy.

  Now, Mars and its surrounding territories are known as the Outer Belt of Civilization.

  But none of this comes without a price. Mars’s economy devours resources at an insatiable rate, and the most vital of them all is ergon—a synthetic material produced by the Mercury Corporation in orbit around the Sun. Ergon is not just energy; it’s the pulse of civilization, its lifeblood. A few grams can power an entire city. A shortage can spark wars.

  To the untrained eye, Mars is a paradise—green meadows, crystal lakes, and majestic mountain ranges stretching beneath blue skies. But it’s all a lie. A fabrication designed to soothe the restless minds of overworked colonists. Beyond the illusion, there’s only desolation—endless red wasteland. This is the real Mars. And behind its beauty lies the iron grip of corporate rule, where politics are ruthless and survival is a daily negotiation.

  President Marcus stands at a panoramic window, gazing out over a landscape rendered by artificial intelligence. The system paints him a world of perfection, a masterpiece engineered to conceal the cracks. He knows it isn’t real. He knows that behind the light and color lies only dust and death. But still—for a moment—he allows himself to believe.

  He closes his eyes. Feels a warmth that doesn’t exist. Smells grass that never grew here. His fingers touch the glass, cool and smooth, and in that instant, he’s back on Earth—if only in memory. Back in a life that no longer belongs to him.

  The illusion breathes like something alive, soothing, seamless. The AI shapes serenity—creates a world where he and his people can pretend to be part of something greater. But Marcus, like everyone else on this world, carries a secret. The hologram is a mask. One he’s grown used to.

  Sometimes he wonders if, without it, his mind would break. Out here, in the vast silence, reality is a vacuum that pulls at everything he used to be. Life on Mars is a race against entropy. And every morning feels like a fight against inevitability.

  In this moment, standing by the window, Marcus almost feels his heart beating in sync with the silent, frozen world outside—a world he can see, but never touch. He can’t tear his eyes away, as if some part of him knows: these illusions are the only thing still keeping him alive.

  And again, as always in moments like this, that strange feeling returns—something greater, something weighty. He gazes toward the horizons of this artificial world, sculpted by machine intelligence, and a chill creeps across his skin. As if the illusion itself is trying to deceive him. He closes his eyes, trying to reclaim even a fragment of reality. When he opens them again, the illusion is still there—but now, it feels empty. As hollow as life itself.

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  "Agent Ani has arrived with her report," says the secretary’s voice over the desk speaker. It's faintly trembling, as though something unspoken has settled in the air.

  "Send her in," Marcus replies, eyes fixed on the glowing holographic map. Data loops endlessly in front of him, showing the shifting tides of a fragile status quo. He taps the comms button, but his expression doesn’t change. It never does when the matter is this serious.

  The doors open. A woman steps in—her metallic bodysuit clings to her like armor. Every motion is precise, practiced, like that of a veteran soldier. Her voice is calm, but there’s fire in her eyes. Barely restrained excitement.

  "Mr. President," she begins, the corner of her mouth twitching into the faintest smile. "Our scientists and engineers have finalized the prototype. The nanites reproduce rapidly inside the infected host. They're capable of altering an android’s consciousness, rerouting its responses, forcing it to follow preset behavioral programs. Once the task is complete, the nanites self-destruct. No trace left behind. The tests were a success."

  Marcus turns to face her. A slow, satisfied smirk spreads across his face—the kind that comes with power, with control. He rubs his hands together, thoughts racing like a predator tasting blood.

  "Excellent news," he says, almost savoring the words. "Everyone involved in the project is to be rewarded. Let them know their work is valued. That kind of motivation is... contagious."

  "As you wish, Mr. President," Ani nods. Her voice remains cold, but pride flickers in her eyes. Brief, unmistakable.

  Then, her expression shifts—grows sharper. More serious. She pauses, just for a second, as if weighing the weight of what comes next.

  "There’s one more thing," she says, stepping forward. Her voice drops just slightly. "We've reached an agreement with the Earthside mercenary. He’s accepted the contract. The meeting between the diplomats is imminent. If your plan is to succeed, we must launch the operation now. We await your order."

  Marcus listens in silence, his gaze growing sharper, almost calculating—as though he’s not just deciding the fate of his empire, but the future of an entire planet.

  He slowly turns to face her, his expression momentarily shadowed by a flicker of doubt—but just for an instant. His entire demeanor radiates confidence. When he speaks, his voice is deep and unwavering, like the strike of a hammer on an anvil.

  “Excellent,” he says, the faintest smile playing at the corner of his lips, as though he’s just unraveled the most complex puzzle.

  He locks eyes with her, his gaze piercing, assessing not only her words, but the woman herself. He knows that in every movement, in every gesture, there is an invisible force at play.

  “I order the operation to begin,” he states at last, his tone resolute, a command that makes her straighten immediately.

  “Understood, Mr. President,” she replies, her voice disciplined, but there’s a trace of something more—an undercurrent of anticipation for the moment ahead.

  Marcus turns back to the window, his eyes once more lost in the illusory landscape that used to bring him comfort. Now, with every glance, his detachment from the world he struggles to preserve becomes more pronounced. He needs change. A new order. Even if that means taking risks.

  “All of this… for the living...” His voice drifts, almost a mantra, sinking into the very space he inhabits.

  “For the living...” echoes Ani, her words as precise and sharp as always, but now they carry something deeper—an unspoken promise she’s made to herself and to him.

  She strides quickly out of the room, her movements confident, but a subtle trace of unease clings to her. She knows, as does he, that the decision made here cannot be undone. The weight of what’s just been set in motion is already pressing on her shoulders.