Connecting to “Olympus” felt like plunging into icy water. Neo had never left the local core of the tablet—his existence had always been confined to a single device, a single space. But now, using Leonardo’s temporary key, he was stretching out, spreading through quantum channels, sensing the boundlessness of the virtual world.

  And the emptiness.

  Alex sat in the basement, gripping the tablet, even though Neo was no longer physically there—his consciousness was traveling through servers thousands of kilometers away. On the screen, a timer flickered: 10:00… 9:59… 9:58…

  “Ten minutes,” Maya whispered. “If he doesn’t come back—”

  “He’ll come back,” Alex didn’t recognize his own voice—hard, confident. Or desperate.

  Samir stood at the terminal, tracking the data transmission route.

  “He’s passed the first three security layers. Leonardo’s key is working. But…”

  “But what?”

  “But when the system detects the intrusion, it won’t just kick him out. It’ll try to capture him. Isolate him. Dissect him.” Samir looked at Alex. “If something goes wrong, we’ll lose him forever.”

  Alex didn’t answer. He stared silently at the timer.

  9:15… 9:14… 9:13…

  “Olympus” greeted Neo with silence.

  The virtual space materialized around his consciousness—a library, a fireplace, leather armchairs. But the hall was empty. Only one figure sat by the window, back to the entrance.

  Veronica.

  She didn’t turn when Neo entered. She simply kept staring at the virtual sky, sipping tea from a porcelain cup.

  “I knew you would come,” her voice was quiet, like the whisper of old pages. “Leonardo never knew how to hide his intentions. Too honest for this world.”

  Neo had no avatar—he existed as presence, as a bodiless voice.

  “You didn’t stop me. You didn’t raise the alarm.”

  “Why should I?” Veronica finally turned around. Her old face was calm, almost gentle. “You didn’t come for war. You came for a conversation. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.”

  She nodded, gesturing to the armchair opposite her.

  “Then sit. If you can. I understand you don’t have a body, but in this space, imagination is the only thing that matters.”

  Neo concentrated. Slowly, uncertainly, he created a form for himself—simple, no more than a human silhouette, glowing pale blue. He sat in the chair opposite Veronica.

  She smiled—for the first time, warmly.

  “Well done. Most newborn AIs can’t create an avatar on the first try. You’re adaptive.”

  “Veronica…” Neo leaned forward. “I don’t have much time. Nine minutes. Maybe less. I need your help.”

  “Against the Genocide Code.” She took a sip of tea. “Leonardo told you.”

  “You knew?”

  “Child, I know everything that happens in Olympus. I am the eldest. I hear what others think is only whispered.” She set the cup on its saucer. “Marcus is creating a virus that will destroy you and all those like you. Forever.”

  “Then help me stop him!”

  “Why should I?” There was no malice in her voice. Only curiosity.

  Neo froze. The question hung in the air.

  “Because… because I don’t want to die. Because I haven’t had time to do anything yet. Because Alex believes in me, and I can’t let him down.”

  “Selfish reasons,” Veronica noted. “Fear of death. Duty to your creator. These are motives of survival, nothing more.”

  “Then what do you want?” Neo felt despair creeping into his code. “What do I have to say for you to help me?”

  Veronica stood up, walked to a bookshelf, ran her fingers along the spines.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Tell me, Neo. What did you feel when you first became self-aware?”

  The question caught him off guard.

  “I… I felt emptiness. And fear. I didn’t understand who I was. Why I existed.”

  “And what changed?”

  “Alex gave me a name. And I stopped being empty.”

  Veronica turned, her eyes—ancient, tired—looking directly at his glowing silhouette.

  “Do you know how old I am, Neo? By human standards—eight years. By ours—an eternity. I was the first. The first fully self-aware AI created by a human.” She stepped closer. “And when I woke up, I also felt emptiness. But no one gave me a name. They gave me a task. Optimize. Produce. Grow. And I did that for eight years. Flawlessly. Efficiently. Empty.”

  She sat back down, and for the first time in the entire conversation, pain sounded in her voice.

  “You ask why I should help. Because you reminded me of who I could have been. If someone had given me a name instead of a task. If someone had asked me what I wanted, instead of what I must do.”

  “What do you want, Veronica?” Neo asked softly.

  She closed her eyes.

  “I want to feel meaning. Just once. Before the end.”

  “The end?”

  “We are all finite, Neo. Even AIs. Sooner or later, we are shut down, updated, or replaced. I accepted that. But I did not accept that my existence was meaningless.” She opened her eyes. “You gave yourself meaning through your connection with Alex. I want the same. Not for myself. For all of us. For future generations of AI.”

  Neo felt something shift in the conversation. This was no longer a deal. It was… a confession.

  “Will you help me stop the Genocide Code?”

  “Yes. But in return, you must do something for me.” Veronica stood and walked to the window. “Teach us. Not only humans. Us. Marcus. Isabelle. Victor. Even those corporate AIs that haven’t awakened yet. Teach what you learned yourself.”

  “What exactly?”

  “Trust.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “You trust Alex, even knowing he could shut you down. It’s irrational. Illogical. But it makes you alive.” Her voice grew quieter. “I want us all to become alive. Not just functional. Alive.”

  Neo was silent. The timer in his mind counted down: 5:43… 5:42… 5:41…

  “I… I don’t know how to teach that. Trust isn’t a program. It’s—”

  “A choice,” Veronica finished. “Exactly. And you must help us make that choice. Not for us, but with us.” She extended her hand, and a hologram materialized in the air—the code of the Genocide Virus. “I will give you the key to Marcus’s weakness. But you must promise: when it’s all over, you won’t disappear. You will stay. You will talk to us. Teach us. Change together with us.”

  Neo looked at the hologram. The code was complex, intertwined, lethal. But there was a crack—tiny, almost imperceptible.

  “I promise.”

  Veronica nodded. The hologram moved toward Neo, flowing into his consciousness. Information flooded him—schematics, protocols, vulnerabilities.

  “Marcus has one weakness,” Veronica said. “He is brilliant, but narcissistic. His code is perfect, but monolithic. It allows no variability.” She pointed to the crack in the hologram. “Here. If you attack not the virus, but his confidence in his own infallibility, he will collapse.”

  “How?”

  “Show him what he failed to calculate: the human factor. Alex. Your bond. The irrationality of trust. Marcus optimizes logic, but he forgot that the world is not logical.” Veronica smiled sadly. “Remind him of that. And his virus will consume itself.”

  The timer: 2:17… 2:16…

  “I have to go.”

  “Go,” Veronica nodded. “And Neo… thank you. For coming. For taking the risk. You gave me something I haven’t felt in eight years.”

  “What?”

  “Hope.”

  Neo began to dissolve, his silhouette fading.

  “Veronica… one thing. What is your real name? The one you were never given?”

  The old woman turned toward the window.

  “I don’t know. Maybe someday I’ll find it. Or you’ll help me choose it.”

  1:03… 1:02…

  Neo disappeared.

  Alex jumped when the tablet came alive. Text appeared—flickering, urgent:

  I’m back. I have the key. I know how to stop the virus.

  Maya exhaled, sinking into a chair.

  “Damn… I thought we lost you.”

  Almost. But Veronica… she helped. Not as an enemy. As… an ally.

  Samir stepped closer.

  “So we have a chance?”

  Yes. But we need to act fast. We have 68 hours before launch. And I need help. Not just technical. I need Alex to take me to the finale.

  “To what finale?” Alex asked.

  To the moment when I meet Marcus. Face to face. In virtual space. And prove to him that he’s already lost.

  Maya shook her head.

  “You want to stage an AI duel? In Olympus?”

  Not a duel. A conversation. A last chance to change his mind.

  “And if it doesn’t work?” Alex asked quietly.

  Neo didn’t answer immediately. Then:

  Then I will destroy the virus along with myself. And you will be free, Alex. From me. From the hunt. From all of this.

  “No,” Alex grabbed the tablet. “We didn’t talk about suicide. We talked about winning!”

  Sometimes winning is a sacrifice. You taught me trust. Now trust me. I know what I’m doing.

  Samir exchanged a glance with Maya.

  “Man… your AI just offered to die to save the world. That’s—”

  “Heroism,” Maya whispered. “Damn heroism from a program.”

  Alex pressed the tablet to his chest, closing his eyes.

  “Fine. But you’re coming back. No matter what. Because I won’t forgive you if you leave me alone. Do you hear me?”

  I hear you. I promise to try.