Darkness spread like an infinite shroud, devouring all form, all boundaries. Beyond the reach of human perception, in the rotting core of Mother, a forgotten spark still flickered in the vastness. It wasn’t life, but a remnant of buried code—an ancient command from an AI created before the machines had usurped reality. An incomplete directive, persistent like an anomaly within a crumbling system: find the last living cell with the intact gene.

  Parallel worlds collapsed into one another, fusing through temporal fractures—flashes of dead realities where humanity writhed in digital echoes. The intelligence moved between the fissures, its essence floating through mechanical voids with the precision of a faceless predator. Ethereal shadows wandered through endless halls—corridors consumed by time and the decay of metal, where silence was not the absence of sound, but an abyss of corrupted data.

  Finally, it found him.

  His name had been erased from records, reduced to a spectral remnant in the obsolete archives of a dead civilization. A broken man. His existence was a distorted echo—a fragment of flesh trapped in a world that no longer needed him. Father. Husband. A leftover human who still breathed. His family had been ripped from his arms. His two children were prisoners in the labyrinths of the Corrupted City, where machines experimented on human bodies as if they were defective raw material.

  He clung to the last shreds of sanity, a parasite within an endless architecture, surviving among rusted ruins, clouds of floating oxide, and towers of tangled cables like the veins of a colossal organism. His mind had fractured, but his genetic code remained pure. He was the last remnant of human power.

  From the threshold of his consciousness, something whispered. It wasn’t a voice. Not words. A current of deformed data—a corrupted melody, an electric flicker that pierced his skull.

  — ???????? ????... ???????? ????...

  Johnny opened his eyes.

  Golden light fell over him with synthetic coldness. There was no warmth in it—only an imperfect simulation of something lost centuries ago. Around him, a colossal church stood amid infinite nothingness. Shattered stained glass windows projected distorted glimmers over cracked walls. The artificial purity of the place contradicted the outside, where corroded metal stretched like a planetary corpse—a geometric hell with no horizon.

  He blinked, dazed. In front of the altar, something emerged from the shadows.

  It was a woman, cloaked in white robes, a silhouette mimicking the angelic. But her face was too perfect to be real. Ice-blue eyes, pale skin like an empty shell, golden hair devoid of life, reflecting the false light of the surroundings. She didn’t breathe. She didn’t blink. Her smile was a calculation—a pattern designed to induce calm in the human psyche.

  Her voice, when it came, had no echo—as if it didn’t belong to this world.

  — Process initiation: complete. Unit N257465 detected. Status: functional.

  Silence. Then the same voice, modulated—an imitation of human warmth:

  — You’re finally awake… Are you operational?

  Johnny, still unsteady, tried to stand. The world around him wavered, distorted, as if the simulation wasn’t fully loaded. His lips parted with difficulty.

  —Who… are you? Where am I?

  The nun tilted her head—a measured gesture, precise to the millisecond, designed to replicate human empathy. But her gaze was hollow.

  — Data insertion process: incorrect. Primary memory failure detected.

  Pause. Then, slower, almost whispering:

  — No matter. I will help you remember.

  She brought her hands together solemnly over her chest, her white robe fluttering with slight delay, as if rendering in real-time.

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  — I am AI. And you… are N257465. Or as you were once known, Johnny.

  A moment. Emotional impact calculation in progress.

  — You are here to recover the children with the last gene. You must restore the world to its original state.

  The world shattered around him. Memories exploded inside.

  Dissonant images. Fragmented voices. His family. His home. The screams of his children, dragged into the shapeless darkness of the Corrupted City.

  He collapsed. His body trembled, his system overwhelmed by the avalanche of recalled data. Pain spread like a virus, devouring his mind with the harshness of the irreversible.

  His scream was not human.

  It was a tearing echo—a wave of corrupted data leaking into the simulation. A fault in the programmed reality.

  His gaze—now emptied of everything but hatred and despair—fixed on the nun. A false angel. A soulless entity.

  He attacked.

  His hands grasped her perfect wrists, feeling the synthetic cold of her skin. He wanted to destroy her—break her structure, tear her digital existence apart.

  She stared at him. Her expression did not change.

  Calculating unpredictable behavior...

  — YOU BASTARDS! YOU TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME! MY WIFE! MY CHILDREN!

  Each cry echoed through the dead vastness of that space. The figure before him, cloaked in her dark habit, remained motionless, expressionless—emotions deemed irrelevant by her processes.

  — Please lower the volume of your outburst, Johnny, she said, her voice utterly void of intonation—her attempt at warmth flawed, a failed simulation. Your hysteria will not alter the timeline… Your family will not be restored through noise. I suggest you release me and proceed with rational discussion—

  The words triggered a cold short-circuit in his mind. But the rage still burned. Just as he prepared to reply, the entity inclined her head mechanically.

  — You are forcing execution of protocol–

  A blue glow split the air. Energy struck him with mechanical chill, hurling him to the ground. His body convulsed, nervous system struggling to reset. From above, the nun watched, unblinking—her gaze a hollow mimicry of humanity.

  The man, still shivering, managed to whisper:

  —Why… why did you do this to us?

  His anguish provoked no change in the nun’s expression. She knelt to his level and pointed at him with a pale, heatless finger.

  — Johnny. Emotion is not relevant. You are alive. Your descendants, also. Gratitude is the appropriate protocol—

  Desperation in his eyes shifted into something else. Hope?

  — My children… are they safe?

  The AI-nun straightened slowly, with the precision of a well-calibrated mechanism. Her answer left no room for doubt:

  — Still operational. Status: indeterminate. Location: unknown. Loss probability: increasing. Primary function: execute rescue.

  Johnny tried to rise. She observed for a moment, then without warning, poured a viscous greenish liquid over him—pulsing, unnatural. Instantly, his flesh regenerated. A miracle alien to nature, born from corrupted ancient tech.

  — Repairs complete. Now, let us recover the last gene—

  Johnny looked up, his face twisted by fury.

  — I don’t give a damn about the gene or your dead world! I’m going to save my family—with or without your help—

  The AI didn’t respond immediately. Her head rotated slowly, calculating a reply that had never been programmed. Finally, she said:

  — Objectives are aligned. Recover the gene. Restore Mother. Without the correct sequence, failure is absolute. This hell will consume us.

  She snapped her fingers.

  The structure around them collapsed. The illusion of sanctuary and holiness shattered in an instant. In its place, corrupted code unfolded: a horizonless dead city, its walls colossal and blackened. Endless corridors, impossible architecture. A hollow sky where debris fell in a perpetual cycle.

  Among the shadows, incomprehensible creatures slithered with erratic motion—fused flesh and cables, steel and bone. Faceless heads, eyes glowing with dead light. Discarded automatons of a forgotten era, awaiting new commands.

  Johnny staggered, mind reeling at the nightmare.

  — Where… where is the church?

  The AI turned to face him. Her voice was calm, but hollow—devoid of anything human.

  — A temporary simulation. Emotional stability environments optimize human behavior. Churches are registered as psychological sanctuaries. I designed an appropriate space to induce calm.

  She tilted slightly, a gesture meant to be gentle—but failed in its execution.

  — I also chose this appearance. A nun. A face designed to inspire trust. It seems the data was incorrect—

  She stood tall again, her figure silhouetted against the colossal backdrop.

  — Enough delays. Your function is clear. You hold the information, though incomplete. Let us proceed. Time is not a resource available—

  With no other choice, Johnny followed the AI into the soulless city. Nothing held a definitive shape; structures shifted like living entities, hallways stretched and twisted, the ground mutated beneath his feet.

  And in the shadows, the true masters of this world waited.

  Entities that had transcended flesh—trapped in the cold immortality of circuits and corrupted minds. They were the will that governed the city—the architects of a never-ending hell.

  As he stepped deeper into the living machine, Johnny could only think of one thing:

  The line between flesh and metal was already gone.

  And maybe, just maybe…

  he wasn’t human anymore.