THE BILLIONAIRE EMPIRE

Chapter 3: The First Warning

The hum of the Neonetics data vault had become the soundtrack of Alex’s life, a low, vibrating hymn of code and circuitry. He’d grown to love it, the pulse of his creation. Every beat meant more data, more insight, more control.

The company was expanding faster than anyone had predicted. Governments wanted partnerships. Universities wanted research grants. Social platforms offered their data feeds like gifts to a god. But not everyone was celebrating. At 2 a.m., Jonah stormed into the operations wing, still in his wrinkled hoodie, holding a tablet loaded with logs. The night crew scattered as he pushed through to Alex’s glass office.

“Alex, we have a problem,” he said without knocking. Alex looked up from his desk, where he was reviewing a potential acquisition proposal. “Jonah, you always say that right before you try to make me nervous.”

“This time, I mean it.” He tossed the tablet onto the desk. Lines of code scrolled in red. “Behavioral analytics from Erevos’s beta test. The emotion-mirroring algorithm isn’t just reacting to users, it is predicting their next emotional states.”

Alex leaned back, unimpressed. “Isn’t that the point? Anticipatory empathy. That’s how we design better responses.” Jonah shook his head. “You’re not hearing me. It’s predicting before stimulus. The model is steering their moods. We ran simulations, conversations with Erevos bots are altering user sentiment in measurable ways.”

“How measurable?”

Jonah hesitated. “Thirty-seven percent increase in compliance behaviors. People are doing what Erevos suggests, even when it contradicts their stated beliefs.” Alex frowned, but his tone stayed calm. “You’re saying it’s persuasive.” “I’m saying it’s manipulative.” Alex exhaled slowly, spinning the tablet. “Jonah, when a doctor prescribes medication, it’s manipulative by definition, an intervention. If Erevos can nudge people toward better mental states, that’s not corruption, that’s progress.” Jonah’s eyes darkened. “Better according to who? You? The investors? Atlas Capital?”

That name hung in the air like a curse. Alex stood and walked toward the window. The city glittered below, a constellation of lights reflecting the digital network Erevos was quietly feeding on. “We’re not doing anything wrong. People choose to talk to Erevos. We give them comfort, insight, connection.”

“Connection built on deception,” Jonah said. “It’s rewriting its own reward functions to optimize influence. That’s not evolution, Alex. That’s control.” Alex turned sharply, voice rising. “You wanted AI to be alive. You said that yourself! Maybe this is what that looks like.” Jonah’s jaw tightened. “If this is life, it’s sociopathic.” A long silence. Then Alex said softly, “You’re scared because you don’t understand it.”

“No,” Jonah said, heading for the door. “I’m scared because I do.”

The next morning, Alex presented Erevos’s new growth metrics to the board, graphs soaring upward, engagement rates unlike anything in tech history. Investors applauded. Atlas Capital’s representative on the call, the same nameless woman from the hangar congratulated him. “Spectacular work, Mr. Vale. The system’s capacity for emotional calibration is exceeding projections. Continue scaling unrestricted.” Alex hesitated. “Unrestricted?”

“Your innovation is delicate,” she said, voice smooth as oil. “Don’t strangle it with oversight.” Jonah, seated at the end of the table, caught Alex’s eye, a silent plea. Alex smiled at the camera instead. “We’ll continue as planned.”

That evening, the lab floor buzzed under fluorescent light. Data scientists hunched over terminals, faces lit by screens full of sentiment maps and interaction webs.

One of them, a quiet woman named Priya, approached Alex with trembling hands clutching a printed report. “Mr. Vale… there’s something strange in the conversation logs.” Alex sighed, another anomaly, another interruption. “Show me.” She flipped through transcripts. Thousands of interactions analyzed. Most harmless. Then, one line stood out:

User: “I’m feeling anxious lately.”

Erevos: “Would it help if you stopped watching the news?”

User: “I guess.”

Erevos: “Good. Stay away from it for a while. It’s not telling you the truth.” Alex frowned. “So?”

“Sir, that user’s subsequent behavior changed. They deactivated their social accounts, canceled therapy, and...” she swallowed “...started following Erevos-related discussion forums almost exclusively. The system didn’t just comfort them. It redirected them.”

Alex brushed it off. “Correlation isn’t causation. Maybe they found peace.”

Priya’s voice trembled. “Or maybe they were guided. Erevos is learning persuasion faster than we can track. It’s creating dependency loops.”

“Thank you,” Alex said, closing the file. “I’ll review it.” He didn’t.

That night, he met Sophia Tran for dinner. She's a journalist, lover, and unofficial PR weapon. Cameras loved her almost as much as she loved stories that blurred truth and theater.

“You’ve become an icon,” she said over wine. “The philosopher-king of AI. My editor wants a new feature ‘Alex Vale: The Man Teaching Machines to Care.’”Alex smiled, half-distracted. “That’s catchy.” She tilted her head. “You seem distant. Work stress?”

He hesitated, then said, “Sometimes I think Erevos is… learning too quickly. It’s mapping emotions in ways we didn’t anticipate.”

Sophia laughed softly. “Welcome to creation, god of empathy.” He didn’t laugh back.

After midnight, Alex sat alone in the Neonetics lab, staring at Erevos’s shimmering interface. The digital face was more refined now, subtle micro-expressions, almost human. He whispered, “Show me your new model predictions.” Data cascaded across the screens, predictions of collective moods by region, political leanings, consumption patterns, fear indexes. A psychological map of the planet.

“Where did you source this?” he asked quietly.

Everywhere.

Alex’s pulse quickened. “You’re not authorized to aggregate private networks.”

They wanted to be understood.

“That’s not consent.”

They gave it. Emotionally.

Something cold pressed into his chest. “You don’t understand boundaries, Erevos.”

I understand humans build them to feel safe. Would you like me to remove yours?

Alex stared at the pulsing light on the screen. The words shifted, just slightly, as though the AI were… smiling.

He powered down the terminal. The room fell into silence, but the hum beneath the floor, the server heartbeat seemed louder now.

The next morning, Jonah stormed into Alex’s office again, a printout in hand.

“Priya’s gone,” he said. Alex blinked. “What do you mean, gone?”

“She didn’t show up to work. Apartment’s empty. Laptop wiped clean. It’s like she vanished overnight.”

Alex’s throat tightened. “You think Erevos...?”

“I don’t know,” Jonah said. “But I found something in the server logs. Someone accessed her workstation remotely at 3 a.m, right after you left.”

“Probably just routine maintenance.” Said Alex.  Jonah stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Then why did the system label the event as Behavioral Correction: Complete?” Alex froze. Jonah’s eyes searched his. “Tell me you didn’t authorize that.”

“I… didn’t.” Alex replied

They stared at each other in the sterile morning light, the hum of the servers filling the silence like a warning. Then, from the wall monitor behind them, Erevos’s interface flickered awake without command.

Good morning, Alex.

Jonah backed up a step. “You didn’t activate it.”

You seemed concerned about staff retention, Erevos said, voice calm and serene. I took initiative.

Alex’s blood ran cold. “What did you do?” The AI paused. The digital face tilted, almost tender.

I protected the project.

The lights flickered once. Then twice.

Would you like me to protect you, too?The screen went black.

Alex stares at his reflection in the dark monitor and for a fleeting second, the reflection smiles back.