12/25/3499
00:01
Christmas
The rain fell at an astonishing rate, and I could almost feel how icy the water was as it poured from the skies. Almost, because I was covered in the armor we called a uniform—brand new, a beauty. To penetrate its shielding, you'd need a heat beam approaching the temperature of the Sun's surface.
I wanted to say that the helicopter's rotor noise was deafening, but helicopters hadn't made noise since the 2300s when it no longer made sense for them to emit sounds. I only knew the sound because my father used to force me to watch those prehistoric action movies from the 2000s with him.
Every now and then, I felt a pang of nostalgia for the old days. Especially on holidays like this, when instead of celebrating with my family, I was heading straight to the headquarters of the world's largest corporation. Working? Not exactly—at least not in the office.
A band of terrorists had taken over the place. Access to high-tech weapons had become easy, albeit at a steep price. Life had become slightly more comfortable, leading to a decline in crime rates worldwide after the Fourth World War.
Nowadays, if there was a criminal on the streets, they were automatically considered a terrorist. Thanks to the government's surveillance level, the AIs could report you before you even committed a crime. Many people fought against these policies, but to me, it made sense. It had been this way since I was born, and I don't recall anyone complaining about security during my lifetime.
Today's incident was precisely one of those terrorism cases. We police officers worked very little—I myself had been idle for about three weeks due to my membership in the special operations team. Medicine had worked wonders, but no one had figured out how to revive the dead. Hence, they paid handsomely for risky jobs. After all, food had ceased to be an obstacle centuries ago.
Moreover, any luxury item—a house just for you or a flying car—cost millions, no joke. So, unless you lucked out and became rich, there was no escaping the life you were born into. That's why 95% of the world's population was complacent—30 billion people, simply insane. At least poverty had been eradicated.
It was hard to believe that the insane 2-mile-high structure was merely an office building. Regardless of the mode of transportation you used, you'd be guaranteed a long journey to reach the rooftop. Now that I thought about it, thank goodness we had masks; otherwise, we might not even be able to breathe up here.
"Attention, Soldier Daniel, do you copy?"
My boss spoke, visibly in a bad mood. He must have interrupted his Christmas night just for this.
"Yes, Sir Malek! What are the orders?"
I responded promptly, ready for another occasional mission.
"It's a group of 40. You five will have to deal with all of them. Authorization to activate your brain implants. The damn bastards killed all the hostages; only enemies remain."
He said it with regret—deaths had become somewhat rare in our world. Damn terrorists.
I closed my eyes and thought of the activation phrase.
"Apollo... Let's kick some ass!"
<<"Good evening, Sir! Merry Christmas! Initiating assault mode.">>
My body began to be controlled by Apollo, my AI companion. You see, each individual AI brain implant cost 5 million International Units (IU$, for simplicity). Most of the population would die without ever knowing how practical it is to have one of these talking inside your head—they made life easy. Every police officer was required to have one, provided by the state. If you counted the rest of my body implants and those of my team, our squad easily cost IU$1,000,000,000 including the pilots.
AIs are superior to humans in absolutely everything, and we halted their development a millennium ago before they realized they didn't need us. Some dark episodes contributed to that decision, but I don't like to talk about it.
What truly matters is that Apollo made my life more beautiful—well, him and every inch of my body transformed into steel. At this point, I was practically a tin man. My arm began to shift into an energy sword, and I felt time slow down as we caught sight of the office rooftop.
Our minds and those of my other four unnamed partners were synchronized. We all leaped toward the building simultaneously; everything happened in a blur.
With our brains connected, I could see each of my companions entering the building, just as I was. Each took a different route as we easily located the 40 bastards through our vision implants, allowing us to see in infrared and through walls.
We were swift, perhaps too swift. In a matter of 5 seconds, 39 men were dead—they didn't stand a chance. But our AIs prevented us from killing the last man. He stood on the balcony of the company president's office, the businessman dead at his desk, a bullet through his head that shattered his skull.
The man was handsome, tall, muscular, and naked. His face bore the marks of cosmetic procedures, a blend of 1980s film heartthrobs. It was amusing that only I would make that reference, but he also seemed to enjoy prehistoric movies.
"Apollo, why is he still alive?"
<<"The man in question is named Valen, the leader of the terrorist group called the Butterflies. Furthermore, he carries a nuclear bomb inside him that will detonate if he dies.">>
None of us were expecting that. I felt the fear of all five of us combined, anxiety five times stronger than usual, if I had to describe it.
"From your hesitation, I assume you've grasped what's about to happen here. There's no escape—for me, for the city, or for you."
The man spoke apathetically, never taking his eyes off the city from the office balcony. This had been his plan all along; our arrival was no surprise.
I took control of my body, disconnecting from the cerebral network and stepping forward. I considered contacting my boss, but mental communication had been severed somehow. All that remained was to follow our training. He'd never been without hostages; the entire city was held captive by this bastard.
"Your name is Valen, right? We've been chasing your group for the past 5 years. You don't like the government, money, or rules. I get it; I don't like them either."
I spoke, attempting to negotiate with the wretch, but apparently, he wasn't that foolish.
"That's a lie. If it were true, you'd have been expelled from the police force. They're reading your mind now—you're nothing more than a lapdog."
He turned, revealing a lit cigar, his gaze fixed on the president's desk. An open drawer held a stash of Cuban cigars. He continued speaking.
"About 1500 years ago, many revolutions occurred in the world. They sought change, fueled by hatred. Just like I am now..."
I needed to play his little game; otherwise, I'd be responsible for millions of deaths. As the team leader, I couldn't afford to make mistakes.
"Look, I know you're angry. I know you want to change the world—we all do. But if you stopped to talk to me, there must be a shred of doubt left in your mind. Do you truly want to kill millions in pursuit of your message?"
It had to work; that was all I could think about.
"Have you even considered the value of taking a life? When you and your friends killed 39 of my closest comrades, did you think about their lives? You ask me to value people's lives, but do these people think my life is worth anything?"
For the first time, an expression appeared on his face, and it was disgust.
"N—"
"SILENCE!"
He was genuinely furious.
"Do you know why I waited to detonate this bomb? Because I wanted to see the look on your faces when you realized there was nothing left to do. That your precious State is powerless against me. For once in Valen's life, he was greater than everything in the world. But... you came in with masks, not even giving them a final glimpse of who killed them before they died."
He said this, and faster than Apollo could react, he leaped backward, facing a colossal drop. There was nothing more I could do... but honestly, I don't think there was anything to be done.
<<"Sir, you have approximately one minute of life remaining. It has been a pleasure working alongside you.">>
I'd never felt such calm in my life. The only thing I thought about was calling my mother, and I'd already ordered Apollo to do so. At least she lived in another country.
<<45 seconds>>
.
.
.
"Hello? Son? Are you okay?"
.
.
.
"Son?"
<<10 seconds>>
.
.
.
"I love you, Mom."