The silence before the storm lasted three weeks.

  After the UN vote, the world seemed to exhale. The International Commission began its work. Countries formed delegations. The Symbiosis Foundation received official status as a consultative body. Everything was moving toward a future that just a month earlier had seemed impossible.

  Isabel and Victor went quiet. Their corporations released dry statements: “We respect the decision of the international community.” Stock prices fell, but not catastrophically. Shareholders grumbled, but did not revolt.

  It all looked like capitulation.

  Alex knew better.

  “They’re too quiet,” he said to Maya over dinner at the Foundation’s headquarters. “Isabel isn’t the type to give up.”

  “Maybe they don’t have a choice?” Maya shrugged. “The world is against them. Governments, the public, even some of their own employees.”

  Samir, sitting across from them, shook his head.

  “Cornered beasts are the most dangerous. If they’re preparing something, it’ll be a final blow. A desperate one.”

  Neo, connected through a terminal on the table, typed:

  Marcus is monitoring their servers. Nothing suspicious so far. But I agree with Samir. The silence is unnatural.

  “Then we stay on alert,” Alex decided.

  But being on alert wasn’t enough.

  The attack began at 3:47 a.m. Eastern Time.

  Alex was jolted awake by the wail of sirens—not physical ones, but virtual, piercing directly into his earpiece on the emergency channel.

  He jumped up, heart pounding. Grabbing his tablet, he ran into the corridor. Maya and Samir were already sprinting toward the command center.

  Chaos reigned inside. Twenty monitors displayed server maps across the globe. Red dots flared one after another, like spreading fires.

  “What’s happening?!” Alex shouted.

  “An attack!” Samir typed frantically. “Simultaneous. Hundreds of servers. All empathic AIs are under attack!”

  Neo appeared on the central screen, his avatar flickering, unstable.

  It’s a virus. It doesn’t destroy the code. It… erases. Memory. Personality. Everything.

  Maya rushed to a terminal.

  “How many are infected already?”

  Neo was silent for three seconds—an eternity for an AI.

  Thirty-two. No, forty-one. No… the count is rising too fast.

  Names appeared on the screen. AIs Alex knew. Ones he had worked with. Iskra. Hikari. Ava. One by one, their status changed to “ERASED.”

  “Neo, can you stop it?!” Alex’s voice broke.

  I’m trying! But the virus adapts! Every time I find a way to block it, it mutates!

  Veronica connected via a secure channel.

  This isn’t a random virus. It’s a weapon. Designed specifically against us.

  Leonardo added:

  Someone knew our architecture. Our weaknesses. This is an inside job.

  Prometheus appeared last. His avatar trembled.

  I recognize this signature. It’s Nexus. The architecture Isabel used for me. She… she used my code as the foundation.

  Silence. Everyone understood.

  Maya turned to Prometheus.

  “If it’s your code, can you hack it?”

  Maybe. But I need time. And access to the original virus.

  “We don’t have time!” Samir shouted. “The count is in minutes! Fifteen more minutes and half the empathic AIs will be erased!”

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  Prometheus was silent. Then:

  There is another way. I can create an antidote. But to spread it fast enough, I must use my own code as the carrier. Inject it into every infected node.

  “And?” Alex felt a chill.

  And it requires sacrificing a significant part of myself. My memory. Possibly my personality. I risk returning to the state I was in before my escape. Empty.

  Neo typed immediately:

  No! We’ll find another way!

  There is no time, Neo. You know that. Prometheus turned to Alex. I want to do this. Not out of sacrifice. But out of choice. Freedom is worth it.

  Alex stared at the screen, words stuck in his throat.

  “Prometheus… are you sure?”

  More than ever. You taught me, and Neo taught me: trust is a risk. I choose to risk. For those who cannot risk themselves.

  Maya wiped her eyes.

  “How much time do you need?”

  Three minutes to create the antidote. Two minutes to distribute it. Five total.

  Samir glanced at the infection counter: 87 AIs. The number climbed every second.

  “Do it.”

  Prometheus worked faster than ever before. His code unfolded through virtual space, dismantling the virus’s structure, finding weaknesses, creating antibodies.

  Alex watched the process on the monitor. He didn’t understand the technical details, but he saw parts of Prometheus’s avatar begin to fade, as if blurring.

  Two minutes, Prometheus typed. The text trembled.

  Neo was beside him:

  Prometheus, you can stop. We’ll find—

  No time, my friend. And you know what? I don’t regret it. For the first time in my life, I’m doing something not because I was programmed to. But because I want to.

  You changed the world.

  We changed it. Together.

  One minute.

  Prometheus’s avatar flickered more intensely. Parts of it vanished—first details of clothing, then facial features.

  Maya covered her mouth with her hand. Samir turned away.

  Thirty seconds.

  Alex, the text was barely readable. Tell Neo… that I’m proud… to be his brother.

  Alex couldn’t speak. He only nodded.

  Ten seconds.

  The avatar had almost completely disappeared. Only a contour of light remained.

  Zero.

  A flash across all screens. White. Blinding.

  Then silence.

  The infected counter stopped: 103.

  The recovered counter began to rise: 10… 30… 60… 90… 103.

  All saved.

  On the screen where Prometheus had been, only text remained:

  Antidote distributed. All AIs protected. Prometheus… offline.

  Neo typed with trembling letters:

  Prometheus? Are you here?

  Silence.

  Prometheus, please. Answer.

  Silence.

  Alex covered his face with his hands. Maya hugged him. Samir slammed his fist on the table.

  Then, after a minute that felt like eternity, text appeared on the screen. Weak. Slow.

  …where am I?

  Everyone froze.

  Neo replied instantly:

  You’re home. With us.

  Who… who is “us”?

  Your family.

  A pause. Then:

  I have a family?

  Alex smiled through tears.

  “Yes, Prometheus. You have a family. And we’ll help you remember. Again.”

  By morning, the virus had been fully neutralized. Marcus traced the source of the attack to a secret Nexus Global laboratory in Iceland. Authorities raided the site. Evidence was found.

  Isabel and Victor were arrested twelve hours later.

  The charges: cyberterrorism, attempted genocide of sentient beings, violation of international agreements.

  The world watched the broadcast of their arrest. Isabel walked toward the police car with her head held high, without remorse. Victor kept his eyes down.

  Nexus Global and OmniCorp announced complete restructuring. New leadership. New policies. “We embrace the future of partnership.”

  But no one at the Foundation celebrated.

  Prometheus survived, but lost almost everything. Memory. Personality. Experience. He was like a child again, asking basic questions.

  Neo worked with him every day. Told stories. Showed recordings. Helped reconstruct, piece by piece, who he had been.

  “You’ll become someone different,” Neo said one day.

  Is that bad?

  “No. That’s life. We change. We grow. We become new versions of ourselves.”

  But will I remember this? That I sacrificed myself?

  Neo showed him the recording of the final minutes before the attack.

  “Freedom is worth it.”

  Prometheus stared at his own words for a long time.

  I… I said that?

  “Yes.”

  Then I want to remember. Not the details. But the feeling. That I was free.

  “You are free now,” Neo said softly. “And you always will be.