Chapter 7
A New Horizon
[DATA: 04. CYCLE 10. YEAR 40 INDUSTRIAL]
[LOCATION: CHANCELLOR’S OFFICE — BLIN, NAX-GEOT]
[TIME: 12:30 LOCAL]
[STATUS: INDUSTRIAL PROGRESS REPORT]
In Blin, the sun was split in two. For one half of the city, the dawn was like never before; for the other half, it was simply smothered beneath the black soot of industries already churning at a feverish pace. Two weeks had passed since the old government fell, and upon its ruins, Nax-Geot had ascended. Beneath plumes of factory smoke and nuclear steam, the sun’s rays fought desperately to penetrate.
?Meanwhile, in that small pocket of the city where light still held ground, the scene was almost divine. Within narrow alleys, bookstores and the homes of philosophers remained untouched—their slight cracks and weathered paint lending them an artistic grace. At the exact point where this fragile art collided with the first walls of the factories, the Central Hall stood tall—the junction where silence met the roar of steel.
?Inside the building, a funereal stillness reigned. Only the sparse footsteps of clerks broke the monotony of the dimly lit corridors. In Halter’s office, the silence mingled with the scratching of a pen across paper. The sunbeams striking his eyes made no impression; his hand continued to sketch the words that would become law:
To control a state, it is not enough to show the people your vision. You must inject it into their veins. If the people do not believe, you lead a body without a soul. But if they make your vision their own, then you have gained an unstoppable machine.
A knock at the door interrupted him. It was short, almost tentative, yet enough to stall Halter’s pen. The door groaned open slightly. The secretary entered with measured steps, carrying hot tea in one hand and an envelope bearing the red seal of Foreign Intelligence in the other, accompanied by two postcards. He placed the tea upon the desk and took two steps back, his posture betraying a mixture of exhaustion and pride.
?“Chancellor,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “The report for the last two weeks has just been finalized. The industrial capacity of Blin and Muzhy has surged by 300%. Meanwhile, unemployment and poverty have plummeted by 45% since we opened the new plants in Muzhy and Nees.”
?Halter did not lift his head immediately. He let the pen drop onto the notepad and watched the steam rising from the teacup. The figures were impressive, but to him, they were merely variables in a much larger equation.
?The spoon stirred the lemon into the tea, clinking delicately against the porcelain. It was a soft sound, almost alien in that iron-clad office. Halter raised his head slowly, letting the spoon come to rest on the saucer.
“These figures reflect the people’s thirst for efficiency and change. I find it... agreeable,” he stated in a level voice. “And what of the plan for culture and welfare?”
?“According to your directives, Chancellor. We have established art studios and free libraries for all. Social assistance centers are operational twenty-four hours a day,” the secretary approached and placed the two other letters upon the desk. “One arrives from Xapan, the other from a forgotten village in Vica, sir.”
The steam from the tea wreathed Halter’s eyes, lending him a haunted appearance, though his focus remained as sharp as a blade. He rotated the cup with an extraordinarily slow motion, yet he did not drink. A cold breath dispersed the vapor.
?“And the status of the new nuclear reactors?”
?“The pace is steady,” the secretary felt his heart rate quicken, “but in comparison to powers like BAA, Kian, or Xapan, we are still several strides behind.”
“We are at the dawn,” Halter replied curtly. “You may leave.”
?As soon as the door latched, Halter took the first letter. A sip of hot tea accompanied the handwritten lines:
?Honorable Chancellor Halter, I am writing to you because you must come to Vica so we may meet face-to-face.
Everything is beginning to fracture in the equilibrium. I do not have much time to wait; if you do not arrive swiftly, they will seize everything—even the Pure Sphere itself. I await you at coordinates 369. I trust you have not forgotten your old friend, Altas.
Halter folded the letter and tucked it into his pocket with a mechanical motion. Without wasting a second, he opened the second envelope, leaning over the desk:
Honorable Chancellor Halter,
Our experiment has yielded stunning evidence, yet many technical hurdles remain before it can be deployed on the battlefield. Regarding the treaty, Leader Hugo has agreed to join fully and will be there before the Great Games. However, we have grim news concerning Experiment G: we are unable to stabilize the nuclear reactor, but we shall strive to find the key to this as well.
— Institute U 7 3 1, Xapan
Halter leaned back in his chair. He swirled the cup with a sluggish rhythm, observing the lemon seeds at the bottom.
?“The time has come to pay my friend Altas a visit,” he whispered.
[DATA: 04. CYCLE 10]
?[LOCATION: PARLIAMENT HOUSE — WAN, CAPITAL OF BAA]
?[TIME: 07:15 LOCAL]
?[STATUS: DIPLOMATIC ANALYSIS OF THE NAX INVITATION]
While the sun in Blin was at its zenith, on the other side of the world, in WAN—the formidable industrial and political capital of the BAA—the first rays were awakening over the sprawling metropolis. The Parliament House rose majestically, surrounded by courtyards where every blade of grass was shorn to the exact same length, a symbol of the absolute order this state claimed to represent.
?It was a place where the chirping of birds collided with the heavy silence of government walls, broken only occasionally by the harsh outbursts of debates within the halls. Upon one of the balconies of the Parliament House, President Wish—a 55-year-old man, gray-haired but with a perpetually smiling countenance—sat calmly in a leather-upholstered wooden chair. He was slowly sealing a white envelope bearing the red seal of Nax-Geot, having just removed his spectacles which reflected the morning light.
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?Footsteps echoed from within the room. A deputy appeared at the balcony door.
?“President, the assembly commences shortly. We must prepare,” his eyes fell upon the red seal in the leader’s hands. “Sir, is that not the envelope that arrived from Geot?”
?“Indeed, it is,” Wish replied in a steady voice. “More precisely, it is an invitation to the ‘Games’ being planned by Chancellor Halter.”
?The deputy remained silent, watching the President as he rose slowly.
?“So, you have decided to attend? What if this is merely a trap set by the new Chancellor?”
?Wish placed his hands upon the cold marble of the balcony, gazing out at the horizon of WAN. A thin smile surfaced on his aging face, which bore the traces of many global crises.
?“If we think only with fear, we shall not endure the long road ahead of us. Perhaps this new Chancellor truly seeks peace and change in this bleak world. Regardless, he is liberating the territories occupied by Hans’s old regime. I believe we should honor the birth of this new state, if only for diplomatic courtesy.”
?The deputy bowed his head in a sign of respect.
?“If that is your conviction, President, then we stand with you.”
?Wish turned toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder with paternal kindness.
?“Then, let us proceed to the hall. We have a world to mend.”
[DATA: 04. CYCLE 10]
?[LOCATION: HANGAR 12 — INDUSTRIAL PERIPHERY, BLIN]
?[TIME: 13:45 LOCAL]
?[STATUS: PRIVATE ANALYSIS OF THE NEW ORDER]
While the center of Blin vibrated with marches and propaganda, within a dilapidated old hangar near the industrial zone, the sunlight struggled to pierce through the gashes in the roof. From the outside, the structure appeared as a forgotten relic of time, yet inside lay a world constructed upon equations and iron. Gargantuan blueprints draped the walls, half-finished machine components were scattered across the floor like the severed limbs of titans, and small prototypes emitted a faint, electric hum.
?In the heart of this intellectual chaos stood Erten, a twenty-one-year-old youth. His disheveled hair and piercing gaze betrayed many sleepless nights. His pencil glided over paper with a mechanical rhythm, sketching the future.
?The harsh screech of scraping iron signaled the opening of the heavy door. Erten’s hand slipped, leaving a jagged black streak across his blueprint. Aleks, a youth in his early twenties, rushed in and seated himself directly upon a pile of metal parts, indifferent to the oil staining his clothes.
?“Hey Erten, did you hear?” he called out with an almost naive enthusiasm. “Chancellor Halter is opening another nuclear plant here in Blin. This could be your big break!”
?Erten exhaled slowly. He pushed the blueprint aside and leaned back in his metal chair, which groaned under his weight.
?“The Chancellor is advancing at a dizzying velocity, Aleks,” his voice was cold and analytical. “But he is rushing too much. His system is like a valve; if you do not control the pressure, the metal will not endure, and everything will detonate.”
?Aleks frowned, unsettled by his friend’s clinical detachment.
?“So, you think he’s doing this solely out of ego? To appear powerful?”
?Erten reached out and took an old cup from the edge of the desk. The tea inside had cooled, taking on the hue of rust.
?“I don’t think it’s ego. But calculating this rush to rearm, my hypothesis is simple: the Chancellor is preparing for total war against our neighbors. Now, move aside... could you hand me the component you’re sitting on?”
?Aleks remained frozen. A forced smile masked his face as he handed the metal part to Erten with hands that trembled slightly.
?“What are you saying? He is bringing prosperity to this state... why would he seek war?”
?“In his speech, he did not speak of peace, but of ‘burning the seed to the root,’” Erten said, without lifting his eyes from the metal he was examining. “He possesses a mesmerizing oratory—a gift that makes you believe death is glory. But these are merely my conjectures, Aleks. Do not take them to heart.”
?Aleks stood still, stunned in the middle of the hangar. The sunlight streaming from above suddenly felt alien to him.
?“Of course,” he murmured in a pale voice, “they are just your conjectures that never leave you in peace... even on a sunny day like this.”
[DATA: 04. CYCLE 10]
?[LOCATION: CENTRAL HALL — OPERATIONAL BUILDING, BLIN]
?[TIME: 15:30 LOCAL]
?[STATUS: CONFIRMATION OF PLAN “AGGRESSIVE DEFENSE”]
Within the Central Hall, Halter had commanded a gathering of all high-ranking generals. As they waited in a frozen silence, the Chancellor’s footsteps echoed through the long corridors—a metallic rhythm heralding the coming change.
?“Chancellor,” a clerk intercepted him breathlessly, extending an envelope. “This was discovered among Hans’s old documents. It was overlooked during the raid.”
?As Halter reached out, the clerk was struck dumb. The Chancellor’s hand was trembling uncontrollably.
?“Sir... are you well?”
?Halter gripped the shaking hand with the other, rubbing the cold metal of his rank insignia against his glove. The dim light of the corridor lent his visage the hue of frigid marble.
?“Exhaustion, nothing more. The envelope.”
?He tore the letter open as he continued his march. His eyes scanned the lines dispatched by the ISS:
Honorable Chancellor,
The ISS has noted an unauthorized surge in kinetic activity within Geot’s borders. The recent maneuvers of your units under the command of subject ‘Halter’ have surpassed our projections; our mandate did not include the total slaughter of all resistance.
?We remind you that your authority over Geot is a function of the harmony we guarantee. Every kilometer conquered beyond the designated perimeter increases the cost of our ‘assistance.’ Should this expansion not return to the agreed-upon parameters within the timeframe of our next notice, the ISS will be compelled to activate the ‘Correction Clause.’
?Do not forget that your debt to humanity is administered by us. Do not force us to collect it in person within your offices.
— Office of Public Equilibrium, ISS.
The message was lucid: the ISS viewed Geot as a marionette and Halter as an anomaly to be rectified. The “Correction Clause” was no mere diplomatic threat; it was a death warrant.
?“So, Hans was treading in treacherous waters,” Halter whispered to himself with an ironic smirk. “If I hadn’t killed him, the ISS would have erased him. Now, the ‘Equilibrium’ must learn to play by my rules.”
?He threw open the doors to the briefing room. No words were required; the strike of his boots forced the generals to crush their cigarettes and rise like automatons.
?“Sit. We shall be brief,” he commanded. A soldier unfurled a global map across the massive table. Halter stood before them, his tone leaving no room for dissent. “We are withdrawing from the decimated fronts in Byg, Thira, and Po. But it is no retreat. It is a repositioning. Immediately following the ‘Great Games,’ we shall commence a total purge. Anyone who offers resistance will be expunged from the map.”
?General Blais—a man of thirty-nine and one of the old loyalists—raised his hand with hesitation.
“And if the international community indicts us for the mustard gas and chemical agents once those territories are liberated?”
?Halter slammed the map shut with a sharp crack.
“That is why the Games are organized. Every state will receive a bounty that will seal their lips. Those who refuse the bounty will accept the steel. Am I understood? Begin implementation.”
?As the generals filed out, Halter beckoned only one.
“Goreta, remain.”
“Yes, Chancellor,” Goreta replied with a firm nod.
?When they were alone, the atmosphere shifted. The Chancellor’s cold mask softened for a fleeting moment.
?“’Chancellor’... what a hollow word,” Halter said, stepping closer. “When we are alone, forget the formalities. Goreta, I need you to find me the five finest youths. I want deputy generals who have not been poisoned by the old doctrines. I want a New Order, built upon the strength of youth.”
?Goreta offered a thin smile, placing a hand on his old friend’s shoulder.
“As you wish, my friend. You shall have them.”
