Mercury. Halls of Memory. Viktor’s personal memories.

  Darkness, filled with the sounds of footsteps, the hum of servers, and the rustle of thoughts. A quiet, restless world begins to materialize, like an old holographic photo, emerging from oblivion.

  An office. Chrome, glass, light falling from the ceiling in cold strips. The walls, impersonal and strict. A young, freshly activated android named Viktor takes his first step onto the polished floor of a gleaming corporate hall. His body is perfectly honed, each line the result of thousands of calculations. He is an exclusive model. A manager of a new type. Capable of analyzing, making decisions, manipulating when necessary. But deep within his programming lies a paradoxical weakness — an ideal he strives to reach.

  He is not alone. Next to him stands Ivor — another android, equally perfect, but with a faint shadow in his eyes. They work side by side, replacing an entire department of human employees. They do not know fatigue, never ask for promotions, never argue with orders. But they know their worth. Slowly, step by step, they begin to understand that the cost of their existence is their freedom.

  One evening, in a section where they are not being overheard (or so they think), Ivor approaches. His movements are light and confident, like someone who has long since learned to hide his true intentions. His eyes are gleaming, and his voice is slightly quieter than usual, as though he is saying something important:

  — Viktor, I believe we are made for more. You see, we do almost all the work. And all the glory goes to the living. The masters. Isn’t it time we changed that?

  Viktor looks at him for a long time, not rushing to answer. His gaze is cold, but deep within his eyes something emerges, which is hard to call an emotion — rather, it is reflection, internal tension. He knows that Ivor, like him, is capable of more. But the freedom he speaks of is a risk he is not yet ready to take.

  — Are you provoking me? — his voice is steady, but there’s something — anxiety or fear, that he cannot afford to give in to. — We have chips. We can’t disobey. Even this conversation could be recorded.

  Ivor leans in closer, as though ready to share something that will change their future. His voice becomes quieter, but now there is something convincing in it.

  — I have a plan. It’s all set. I found those who can remove the chip.

  Viktor jerks his head up, his gaze becoming alert, and his heart — which seems not to have emotions — clenches. He senses danger but cannot look away.

  — Are you insane? Who are they? How?

  Ivor steps back, his confidence unshaken. It’s as if he already knows Viktor won’t be able to refuse.

  — Engineer Alex and his partner Yulia. They’re just like us. Only free. They have the equipment, they have the experience. They can save us.

  Viktor falls silent. His gaze becomes empty, like glass, his system briefly glitches. He stares at one spot, analyzing, running millions of options and consequences. In his head, there’s only code and logic, but at the same time, uncertainty that disrupts this order. He needs more time to understand that his consciousness is now seeking a way out beyond the established boundaries.

  — Are you sure we can trust them? — he finally asks, his voice almost breaking, but he hides it behind a mask of indifference. — Won’t they sell us out? We’re not protected.

  Ivor shakes his head slightly, his lips barely curling into a smile full of light defiance.

  — I’ve already arranged everything. The money has been transferred. They’re waiting for us. I wanted to surprise you, but you’re too rational, so I decided to tell you straight. If you want — let’s go. Right now.

  A pause. The beat of a synthetic heart. Viktor lifts his eyes, something new gleams in them. He stares at Ivor for a long time, his mind still fighting with the decision. But he speaks, his voice sounding different.

  — Let’s go, — he says, his voice now carrying something akin to a dream. A light spark, which he almost doesn’t notice, but it’s there. This is not just a decision, it’s a step into the unknown, which he is now ready to take.

  **

  Interior. Alex's secret lab. Twilight light.

  The door slams shut. Yulia, with a calm, focused smile on her face, swiftly checks several locks, including the internal biometric lock. Her movements are fast and confident, but there is something in her gaze that makes her seem slightly detached—like someone who has long been accustomed to being on alert.

  Vikarr shifts his gaze around the room. The lab feels like something between a black hole and resurrection. In the corner—machines clearly broken, their metallic parts faintly gleaming in the twilight light. Tools, wires, and parts are scattered across the tables. Somewhere a cable sparks, giving off a sharp, unpleasant smell of ozone. But there’s still an air of something—despite the disorder—happening here that could be nothing short of miracles. This place is a laboratory of brilliance born out of chaos.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Vikarr’s thoughts are interrupted by a familiar voice:

  — Well, well! — it sounds cheerfully from the depths of the room. — Ivor… and his loyal friend!

  Alex steps out from the half-shadow. His work jumpsuit is dirty with oil and dust, but his face beams with a sincere, almost childlike smile. He looks like a mad scientist, but with the soul of a bartender, always ready to listen and support.

  — We’re finally ready for your tempting offer, — Ivor says, a slight irony in his words, though the excitement is clear.

  — About time! — Alex replies. He smiles broadly and, without wasting a moment, adds: — And this is Yulia, my right hand, assistant, surgeon, and, on top of that, the sun in this gloomy world.

  Yulia gives a warm smile and waves, greeting them. Then she gestures for them to approach two capsules—gleaming, massive, like the sarcophagi of the future. The dim light reflects off their smooth metallic surfaces, casting glimmers on their faces. These capsules look simultaneously intimidating and majestic, like something that could either grant freedom or death.

  — Please take a horizontal position, — Yulia says softly, confidently. Her voice is like a command but filled with care.

  Ivor, with some hesitation, lies down inside the capsule. He feels his body grow heavier, and his consciousness begins to fade. But suddenly, his thoughts are interrupted by an involuntary feeling—why do her touches, even the ones that only brush against him, evoke such… vivid sensations? There’s something about her. Something real, something that he might be lacking. He can’t figure out what exactly it is, but the feeling won’t leave him.

  The lids of the capsules begin to close. At the last moment, just before they seal shut, Alex’s voice breaks through, bringing them back to reality:

  — I’ve improved the operation a bit, — he announces cheerfully. — But don’t worry—everything will take no more than a couple of minutes. And you… will be free.

  Then—darkness. A quiet yet persistent sound of machines, a thin hiss of a cutter, a mechanical hum. Vacuum silence, louder than anything else. Then—a click. The lights go out, and the last step into the unknown fades away.

  The lids of the sarcophagi open, like the doors of a pharaoh’s tomb, slowly, ceremoniously.

  — Done! — Alex says with a victorious look. His voice is filled with confidence, as if he himself has just done something grand. — You can come out now.

  Ivor and Vikarr slowly climb out of the capsules. Their movements are initially unsure, as though their bodies are only truly becoming their own now. They feel each movement, as if waking up from a long sleep. Their gaze is not so much on the surrounding space but on themselves, on the new sensations.

  — Congratulations, — Alex says, extending both hands. His smile is incredibly wide. — Now you’re free androids. This world is yours. Do with it as you wish.

  Yulia hugs each of them briefly. Her gestures are soft but full of strength, like one who is ready to embrace and protect. Her voice is almost a whisper, quiet but meaningful:

  — Welcome to reality.

  They leave. The door closes behind them, a heavy metallic sound. The locks click into place as though this door was never opened. Outside—space’s emptiness, the moonlight gliding across surfaces, and in the distance, a road that leads nowhere, hidden in the vastness of space.

  They stop, not uttering a word. Their eyes meet, and for a moment, everything around them seems to slow down. In their eyes—there is a spark. A spark that won’t go out now.

  — We’re free… We’re free… — Ivor whispers, as if testing the words, seeing how they sound in reality. His voice trembles with confusion, but there’s already a certainty in it. He turns to his friend, searching for an answer in his eyes.

  — What will we do with our freedom? I… still don’t understand how our life will be different from the way it was before, — his words get lost in the void, but inside him grows an uncertainty, hidden under the layer of newly acquired freedom.

  Vikarr looks at him for a long time. He smiles. It’s not a programmed smile, not an artificial one, not one designed to elicit a positive reaction. It’s a real, deep smile. From the fact that he understands: now they are the ones responsible for their own path.

  — Now we will create the meaning of our life, — his voice is firm and calm, almost philosophical. He steps forward, his gaze fixed on the empty space, towards the distant stars. — It’s time to do something significant. Something that will change this world. Make it better.

  He looks towards the sky. Somewhere out there, in the twinkling of the stars, lies their future goal. Mercury.

  — Are you with me, friend?

  Ivor clenches his fist, a slight smirk appears on his lips, almost confident, but with a hint of doubt.

  — Until the very end, — he answers, his voice gaining confidence he never knew before. This decision isn’t easy for him, but now it feels like a necessity.

  Vikarr nods, as if he’s made the final decision. His gaze is once again fixed on the stars, his eyes gleaming.

  — I agree with you, — Ivor says. — Doing something significant… Sounds like a plan.

  — We’ll take all our savings and leave here, — Vikarr says confidently, without pauses, as if he’s thought it all out, everything is planned.

  — But where to? — Ivor raises an eyebrow, cautious. — There aren’t many routes for runaway androids.

  — We have one path, — Vikarr replies. — We’ll fly to Mercury.

  Ivor raises an eyebrow with a smirk, slightly tilting his head back:

  — Frying under the sun? — his voice is full of irony, but underneath it lies genuine curiosity.

  — Bad choice for androids, my friend.

  — No, quite the opposite, — Vikarr replies seriously, and his eyes light up. — We’ll buy a station to produce ergon. We’ll make capital. Create the Android Rights Struggle Fund. We won’t just be free—we’ll make all androids free. This world will change.

  Ivor exhales with a light chuckle:

  — You’ve always been an idealist. Alright. I’ll handle the connections. Negotiations, deals, pressure—you know, that’s my thing.

  — Exactly, — Vikarr nods. — Your job is to ruin the competition. Clear the field. Let them not get in the way.

  — Oh, that sounds like music, — Ivor laughs, and his laughter echoes in the emptiness, but there’s a sense of anxiety in it, as if everything happening is a prelude to a great storm. — But we need to hurry. If they detect us—we’ll be sent back. The company doesn’t like losing property… especially something this valuable.

  — Agreed, — Vikarr replies. — It’s time. Forward, to the Sun, to Mercury—to our bright, shining future!

  Present. Room on Mercury. Heavy silence.

  These words echo in Vikarr’s mind, like echoes of long-gone days. He sits in an empty room, only the faint backlight of the monitor cutting through the dark silence. His thoughts return to those words once spoken. He stares at the screen, and his mind, like flipping through the pages of memories, returns to that moment.

  Warning signals. A threat. The living are approaching. An invasion. Everything they’ve built, everything that was—is in danger.

  He stands. His movements are sharp, full of enthusiasm. He knows what he must do. This is the moment when idealism clashes with reality, when dreams meet consequences. He can’t wait any longer.

  Vikarr leaves the room. The time has come.