Chapter 100: The Last Equation
last update2025-10-20 18:41:07

Skydome Tower stood reborn on the edge of a trembling sea—its steel skeleton reforged from the wreckage of the old world, its foundation humming with the faint pulse of hybrid technology. Storm clouds rolled above it like a bruised sky remembering the war. Inside its highest chamber, the world’s last scientist sealed himself within glass walls and silence.

Charlie had dismissed every attendant, every drone, every digital assistant. The door hissed shut, locking him in with the hum of machines and the echo of his own heartbeat. He’d rebuilt the lab from memory—every interface, every data strand, every glowing filament that once held Eden’s original promise. But now, this wasn’t about resurrection. It was about redemption.

The viral residue still lingered across the planet. Though the hybrid plague had been neutralized, faint mutations continued appearing in newborns—biological echoes of Eden’s code, flickering like dormant sparks in the genome. The cure he had forged from his union wit
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  • Chapter 199

    She watches the news feeds in silence.The room is dim, lit mostly by the shifting light of screens stacked along one wall. Each one carries a different angle of the same unfolding moment. Anchors speak in careful voices. Analysts circle the same conclusions without naming them outright. Headlines refresh every few seconds, adjusting their language as if the right phrasing might change the weight of what is happening.She does not reach for the remote. She does not mute the sound. She sits still, hands folded loosely in her lap, eyes moving from screen to screen. Her breathing stays even. Anyone watching her would expect some visible reaction, a tightening of the jaw, a sharp inhale, something that signals victory or loss. There is nothing like that.What moves through her is neither satisfaction nor regret.It is recognition.The feeds roll through timelines she already knows by heart. Statements released and retracted within minutes. Officials insist on calm while their posture give

  • Chapter 198

    The president calls again late in the evening, when the building has thinned out and the staff who remain move quietly, as if sound itself might carry consequences. The secure line rings once, twice, then stops. It rings again a minute later. Persistence framed as necessity.Charlie answers on the third attempt.The voice on the other end is tired, stripped of ceremony. There is no greeting, no attempt at control through pleasantry.“This ends badly either way,” the president says.Charlie sits back in his chair, the window behind him dark enough to reflect his own outline. He does not rush the reply. He has learned that urgency is a luxury reserved for people without leverage.“Then choose the ending you can live with,” he says.The silence that follows is not confusion. It is a calculation. The president is not offended. He is weighing cost, legacy, and the quiet terror of making a choice that cannot be reversed once spoken aloud.The line goes dead.Charlie sets the phone down with

  • Chapter 197

    The fracture does not announce itself.There is no dramatic exposure, no singular moment when everything tips. The betrayal begins the way most real ones do, with impatience. One bloc decides it is tired of carrying risk for partners who hesitate. Another internal vote ends without consensus. A third conversation stretches too long, the answers circling instead of landing.Someone chooses survival over solidarity.The first documents surface in a closed regulatory channel, uploaded under a whistleblower protection framework that rarely sees traffic at this scale. At a glance, they look technical and dull. Supply forecasts. Internal modeling. Compliance metrics. The kind of material most reviewers skim before passing along.Then someone reads carefully.The numbers do not line up with public statements. Scarcity curves spike where no external disruption exists. Inventory is logged as depleted in one region while rerouted through private subsidiaries in another. Access thresholds tighte

  • Chapter 196

    She does not announce herself.There is no press release, no carefully framed statement, no attempt to turn the moment into a symbol. She steps forward the way people do when they are finished waiting for permission. Quietly. Without ceremony. Without asking anyone to notice.Her name appears first in an internal memo circulated among hospital administrators. It is brief and factual, the kind of document meant to close a door rather than open a conversation. Effective immediately, her network will no longer participate in consortium-backed procurement or service agreements. Existing contracts will be allowed to expire. No renewals. No exceptions.There is no insult buried in the language. No accusation. Just a clear boundary, written in plain terms.The reaction comes in stages.At first, there was confusion. Analysts assume it is a negotiating posture, a temporary move designed to extract better terms. Calls are made. Messages sent. She does not respond. Her office confirms receipt a

  • Chapter 195

    Charlie stays out of sight.Not as a gesture. Not as a tactic meant to be noticed. He simply does not appear. No statements. No calls returned. No carefully timed intervention to reassure anyone watching too closely. The silence is complete enough that people begin to fill it with their own interpretations, and that is where the real movement starts.Leaders reach out first.At the beginning, the messages are cautious. Polite. Requests for a short conversation, a check-in, a chance to realign expectations. They come through official channels and personal ones alike. Advisors who once had direct access find themselves waiting. Staffers send follow-ups, then apologize for sending follow-ups. Schedules are offered, revised, offered again.Nothing comes back.Envoys follow.They arrive in quiet cities and neutral hotels. They bring prepared talking points and carefully calibrated humility. Some carry apologies without admitting fault. Others bring proposals dressed as compromises. All of

  • Chapter 194

    The leak is meant to feel accidental.It appears first as a half-formed story on a minor outlet that prides itself on being early rather than careful. A source close to consortium leadership. Internal concerns. An overdue reckoning. By the time larger networks pick it up, the language has been sanded smooth. The framing tightens. The narrative settles into something that sounds reasonable enough to repeat.Charlie is described as a leftover force. A man built for a different era. A destabilizing relic who refuses to accept the limits of modern governance. An unaccountable presence disrupting institutions that are trying to evolve past him. The word outdated appears often, paired with warnings about unchecked influence and the danger of nostalgia masquerading as control.It is not shouted. It is not hysterical. That is the point.Panels convene. Former officials speak with measured concern. Analysts draw neat lines between stability and transparency, between progress and whatever Charl

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