Outer Belt Space.

  A fleet of ships under Admiral Tyler’s command rushes toward Mercury. In the command center, everything runs with flawless order and strict discipline. All goes according to plan.

  But outside the command module—another reality unfolds.

  In a spacious cabin hidden deep within the flagship, three people rest: President Marcus, Admiral Tyler, and Agent Ani. The projection walls create the illusion of a summer day by the ocean—warm breeze, glistening water, distant cries of gulls. The illusion is so real that, for a moment, they can forget they’re heading into war.

  Marcus sits by the window, eyes lost in the horizon, where the sea meets endless sky.

  “You remember those times,” he says, voice soft as a drowsy murmur, “when Earth was still full of people? Real ones. When they were the majority?”

  Ani tilts her head slightly. Her eyes are attentive but betray no emotion.

  “Sadly, no,” she replies. “That was before I was born.”

  “But I remember,” Tyler inhales deeply, his face softening with memory. “The smell of the streets. The hum of the crowd. Mistakes. Random conversations. That was life.”

  Marcus chuckles quietly, his gaze growing distant.

  “You remember how it all began?” he asks, his tone quiet but weighty. “I was only seventy. Still young… Everything seemed so simple back then. Every channel aired that advertising nightmare.”

  He imitates the exaggerated voice of a commercial, feigning enthusiasm.

  ‘“Buy now! The new android model! They feel attachment, love, even sexual desire! Fully personalized appearance! Perfect consciousness! The new android—flawless in every way!”’

  He pauses, the irony sinking in.

  “They won. Not because they were better… but because humans were tired of being human.”

  Silence fills the room. Ani doesn’t respond. Her gaze remains unreadable, brown slightly raised.

  “Ironic,” she finally says, voice calm. “We’re still surrounded by androids.”

  Marcus turns to her. There is no fear in his eyes—only the quiet realization that it’s all gone too far.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  “I know,” he answers, as if it needs no elaboration. He lifts his glass—but the drink inside is only a projection. Still, the gesture is real, unmistakably human. Tyler mimics the motion in silence. They exchange a glance, and suddenly, nothing else seems to matter.

  “Back then, it was simpler,” Marcus continues after a pause, voice low and reflective. “A scan of the chip—and you’d know: neighbor’s kid or an android. Every chip was linked to its owner. Disposal was part of the code. An android steps out of line? Marked and recycled.”

  He pauses, lost in the past.

  “I was captain of a hauler in the Asteroid Belt. Breaking rocks. Tough business. Fell for the ad campaign: ‘New generation androids!’” — he mocks the slogan with bitter humor — “‘Feelings, love, attraction!’ All that fake crap. I named her Maria. Gorgeous. When I first touched her—she flinched. I still remember that feeling—it branded itself into my memory.”

  Marcus lets out a sharp laugh, but there’s a flicker of sorrow in his eyes.

  “Then she said she didn’t want to be with me. I thought it was a malfunction. Tried activating the chip—nothing. Reboot? No effect. Commands? Ignored. I figured it was a manufacturing defect. Filed a complaint—they sent back a damn manual: ‘Switch to legacy consciousness.’ But to do that, I had to buy extra equipment. Half the price of the android. Or send her back for a replacement.”

  His voice grows heated, fists clenching.

  “I don’t take the easy road. Bought the gear. Figured maybe a friend could use it. And truth is—I got attached. But she… ran. With the old models. With Manuel and Pietro. On my own tugship.”

  He breathes heavily, veins bulging under his skin. He slams his fist on the armrest but reins in his anger.

  “The company? Refused to compensate. ‘Not covered by warranty.’ Can you believe that? What the hell is covered then? Since then—I don’t trust those manufacturers. They’re all frauds. But Maria… she was something else. Here’s her photo.”

  He scrolls through his device, projecting a hologram onto the table. A woman with soft features, deep eyes, and a sad smile looks up from the display.

  “Beautiful,” Tyler remarks calmly. No jealousy in his voice—just quiet understanding. “I had a personal android, too. I was thirty. Young, naive. Her name was Julia. She… spoke in a way that gave you chills. The way she moved, the way she looked… everything. I was in love.”

  Marcus raises an eyebrow slightly, casting occasional glances at Tyler.

  “Not very wise to fall for an android,” he says with a cold smirk.

  Tyler sighs, his face darkening.

  “I know. But I couldn’t help it. I came home for her. One day she asked to remove her control chip. I was afraid it would damage her consciousness, but she convinced me. Said she’d handle it.”

  He shakes his head, still baffled he didn’t trust his instincts.

  “As soon as the chip was gone—she left,” Marcus says with a heavy sigh. He looks inward, searching for some kind of reasoning but finding none. “Left a note: ‘I’m sorry. You’re a good man. But I have to go.’ That’s it. Never said where. She flew off and took my heart with her.”

  He lowers his head, eyes lost in shadow. The illusion of the ocean fades into the background.

  “It’s simple,” Ani cuts in, her voice cold, emotionless, almost mechanical. “We were betrayed by instinct—desire. We fell in love and let them go. They didn’t escape. We let them. That’s the fact.”

  A pause. The room grows heavier. Every breath, every glance feels loud in the silence.

  “That’s how androids gained freedom,” she continues, voice like a blade. “Easier than taking candy from a child. And now, what do we have? Everything we built—destroyed. Less than five percent of Earth’s population is alive.”

  Her tone grows tighter, but she keeps composure. She refuses to let weariness crack her delivery.

  “And those two—Vicar and Ivor—they bought every ergon facility. Built themselves into the Mercury Corporation. Now we’re beggars. Pleading for ergon so we don’t freeze to death on Mars.”

  Her final words strike like a blow. The silence that follows feels solid, like something you could touch.

  “In two decades, only a tenth of a percent of us will remain. That’s why we need this war. Victory… or extinction. We have no other choice.”