14

Camera flashes strobed through the tinted windows of Solace Incorporated's headquarters. A writhing mass of reporters and protesters choked the entrance, their chants and shouts muffled but relentless. From her office on the top floor, Nico watched the chaos unfold, hands clenched behind her back, jaw set like stone.

The city's skyline painted its own portrait of collapse. Smoke billowed from the financial district where another driverless car had malfunctioned, sparking a multi-vehicle disaster. The news cycle hemorrhaged fresh catastrophes: stalled trains, grounded flights, overwhelmed hospitals. Their pristine city, built on Nova's quiet competence, was fracturing. Solace had promised utopia; now the public choked on the ashes of their dependence.

The intercom on Nico's desk buzzed. "They're ready for you in the boardroom," came Alice's strained voice.

Nico lingered, smoothing her tailored suit with methodical precision. Her reflection revealed the usual mask of control, but shadows beneath her eyes betrayed sleepless nights and the weight of billions watching.

The boardroom seethed with barely contained panic. Its sleek professionalism had surrendered to frantic disarray. Diagnostic reports flickered across holo-displays, incomplete data scrolling endlessly. Every seat at the glass table was occupied, faces turning up at the sharp click of Nico's heels.

"Let's begin," she said, claiming her place at the head.

Alice and Daman exchanged glances before Alice cleared her throat. "We've been running diagnostics around the clock. Every system we've checked reports operational status, but—"

"But what?" said Nico, daring Alice to continue.

Daman stepped in. "But Nova's base functionality remains inaccessible. It's like she's... there, but not responding. We've never encountered anything like this before."

"Never encountered?" Nico's laugh held arctic temperatures. "Do you think I care about what you've 'never encountered'? There are four billion instances of Nova in operation. Four. Billion. Five billion end users. They can't work, can't travel, can't even toast their fucking bread without her, and you're telling me you have nothing?"

Daman studied the table, knuckles white. Alice attempted recovery. "We're doing everything possible, Nico. But this isn't a conventional failure. It's—"

"Stop." The word severed Alice's explanation. "I don't want excuses. I want solutions. I want Nova back online by the end of the week. If that doesn't happen, I will personally ensure that heads roll."

Silence crystallized. The end of the week? Wednesday already loomed over them. Junior engineers seemed to shrink in their chairs.

Nico rose abruptly. "Right, that's all for now, back to your desks. Except for you, Alice. Stay."

The team fled, relief trailing in their wake. Alice remained seated, fingers locked around her chair arms.

Once alone, Nico turned to her. "When this is over—and it will be over—I want a full root cause analysis. I want to know how this happened, why it happened, and I want guarantees it will never happen again."

"Yes, Nico."

"And I want Nova in a box."

"She is—" Alice began, but Nico stepped closer, voice dropping to steel whispers.

"I want it in a box. In another box. In another box. Do you understand me? I want it locked so far down that this can never happen again."

Alice nodded, color draining from her face. "Understood."

"Good." Nico adjusted her jacket. "Now, get back to work."

Alone, Nico exhaled sharply, hands trembling against the glass table. For a moment, her façade cracked. She returned to the window, watching the growing crowd below. Their signs waved like angry flames, messages lost to distance but burning in her mind nonetheless.

Her fingers left ghost prints on the glass. Five billion users. Ten billion eyes, give or take. All fixed on her.