November 1st, 2094


    Artificial Island “New Atlantis”


    North Atlantic Ocean


    USA Sovereign Waters


    0030 Hours EST


    Adrian Maxwell IV had killed, cajoled, blackmailed, bankrupted, and bribed his way toward the final stretch of this great work—blackening his soul with sin to such an extent that, if hell existed, he was surely damned to it.


    Blood stained his hands as red as any assassin’s, and yet, it was worth it.


    It had to be worth it.


    Adrian was the architect behind the most significant technological innovation in human history, and it was solely because if he failed, two worlds would die.


    He stood with his left hand in his trouser pocket, and his cold gray eyes trained upon the engineers carefully working on the silvery metal that would eventually comprise the ‘core’ of Eternus Online. His right hand idly toyed with a platinum coin, thumbing it along his gloved knuckles and then back again to loop the movement.


    His attention was solely fixed on the teams as they worked, hidden as he was behind the one-way glass that lined his office.


    Project Genesis had been the work of his near-fifty years of life, his father’s life before him, and his grandfather’s before that. Seventy-four years of effort, starting from the first quantum breakthrough in the mid-2020s, all the way up to now. By the time it was completed, they’d be on the cusp of the 22nd Century.


    Impatience, eagerness, and frustration gnawed at him relentlessly.


    Time was running out.


    That, among other reasons, was why he had summoned his lieutenants to give their reports—though he had been lost, once again, in thought since they had arrived. He could barely take his eyes off of the progress anymore, given how agonizingly close they were.


    “Staring at them won’t make them work faster, Your Grace,” a feminine voice teased from the deeper interior of his grand workspace.


    “Leave him be,” a masculine baritone cut in smoothly, “and focus on the latest reports. We can’t afford another setback to Genesis this close to Revelation.”


    Adrian rolled his coin over his knuckles a final time and turned after the exchange, settling his eyes on the pair within his domain.


    Sterling Wallace was his head of security, as well as his Director of Operations and looked every bit the soldier he had once been. The African man’s head was shaved, his shoulders were broad, and he sat with his right foot crossed atop his left knee—bespoke shoes reflecting the warm glow of the office lighting upon their polished surface.


    In his hand sat a next-generation tablet, thoroughly encrypted, and filled with partitioned windows that showed multitudinous details from interior security cameras, to financial reports, news, and even internet message board gossip.


    “The only delays are the Judiciary and the House Sub-Committee,” the woman answered with confident self-assurance, “and both will be taken care of after the election. The incoming President owes us his allegiance, and beyond that, he knows the price of failure.”


    Sterling just shook his head, but he did not argue.


    Seated across from him, Fiona Hayes was the Director’s near-exact opposite.


    The red-haired, green-eyed Chief Financial Officer was poring over her state-of-the-art laptop while balancing two or three other tablets similar to Sterling’s own, and spread out across Adrian’s desk—which she had commandeered for her use. Her large, ostensibly fashionable spectacles were entirely useless in reality, but they helped negate the disarmingly supernatural beauty the forty-something woman possessed at a glance.


    “What about the Courts?” Adrian asked while walking back toward the desk and rolling the coin over his knuckles again.


    “We chose Associate Justices that were openly biased against corporate interests, at least on the surface, in order to make their cooperation less obvious to the public.”


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    “And they are reliable?” Sterling probed while Adrian listened.


    “Completely,” Fiona assured them with certainty. “We own them.”


    Adrian nodded and rolled the coin again.


    The repetition soothed his tension.


    “Be certain,” he commanded quietly. “We are too close to afford any more delays.”


    “You can rest assured, Your Grace, that we will not allow such,” Fiona declared with firm conviction.


    “We have already sanitized several of the last impeding factors,” Sterling added with a supportive rumble, “and made sure to remove anyone who came too close to seeing the full picture. As long as the Inquisitor manages her end of things, Your Grace, we will be well and truly clear of obstacles to Genesis’ completion.”


    “What about the Link?”


    “The devices are fully attuned to the Euclidean Arrays,” Fiona said confidently. “All testing has shown nominal readings, and we have no reason to be worried about feedback errors. We are ready, Your Grace. All that remains is for DEUS to come online.”


    “The main variable with regard to Earth is how far the public is willing to buy into this being a pure technological breakthrough,” Sterling said with a sigh. “We can’t do much if they refuse to accept what we are offering.”


    “That will not be an issue,” Adrian said with a shake of his head, and a glance back down at the coin. “If there is one thing the people of this planet are desperate for, it is the spirit of adventure. Industry, time, and greed have obliterated their agency—and their spirits are yearning for their ancestors’ freedom. We are not marketing a product, Sterling, we’re giving them liberation.”


    “Genesis depends on the integrity of the Traveler System, Your Grace, and the System’s acceptance of DEUS as a local node,” Sterling responded in his deep, rumbling bass. “If there is insufficient amalgamation, the entire project will fail even if we succeed in our part.”


    DEUS. It always came back to that.


    The heart of it all, a near-perfect replication of a true quantum intelligence, designed, built, and born from the melding of true magic and Earth sciences. It was the wildcard, but Adrian maintained his conviction in its success for a reason—he still possessed the Old Knowledge, from before their ancestors had come to Earth. He knew what the System needed in order to perforate the veil between worlds and anchor to Earth.


    “That is not a concern,” Adrian said steadily, allowing his belief to buoy his words. “The System will embrace DEUS, and uphold the Traveler compact. Our only task is to bequeath the Key. The rest will be up to fate.”


    “There is still the unknown factor of the Pantheon, Your Grace.”


    “The ancient laws proscribe Power intervention so long as we adhere to the Traveler precepts, Fiona,” Adrian said while turning away, and moving back toward the single solid pane of one-way glass. “Even using a proxy for the Transmigration, the effect remains identical. The System will rule in our favor. There is no reason for it not to.”


    “Four centuries have passed there since we were sent to Earth, Your Grace, and it is very likely our joint sponsors are dead,” Fiona said with a frown of inflective rumination between rapid keypresses. “It is quite probable that we are initiating Genesis without any supporting element awaiting us on the other side. The entire project will hinge on random chance.”


    “We identified the right bloodlines,” Adrian said while the coin continued its passage, “and we have a bevy of strong souls on Earth. The Pantheon will have too many potentiates to notice anything is amiss until it is too late, and by then, balance will have its chance. All we have to do is deliver the Key, and have Faith.”


    “I am tired of this world,” Fiona admitted while the sounds of her typing faded to nothing. “I am tired of this dreary, mana-dead civilization of cold machines. I am tired of hiding my gifts for fear of superstitious misconceptions. We have all been rotting here for too long—powerless and at the mercy of this world’s stunning lack of Soul. I am afraid that we, too, will die here as the Vanguard did—without ever knowing the beauty of our home.”


    “We are all afraid of that, Fiona,” Adrian said without turning back to her, and while his gaze fixated once more on the engineers. “But to quote Herbert, ‘Fear is the Mindkiller’. We cannot allow our concerns to frustrate our goals. We will see the land of our forebears again, even if we do so absent the laurels and power of our ancestors.”


    “We’re saving two worlds in one fell swoop,” Sterling muttered quietly, “and they’ll never even realize it.”


    “They may even hate us for it, before the end,” Fiona said with a mirthless laugh.


    “That is the price of our Charge,” Adrian stated pointedly.


    “‘Hidden truths and a sacred Charge to bequeath a dying world its salvation’,” Fiona quoted while her fingers traced her keyboard. “It’s a romantic notion, at least—even if we are essentially turning more than a century of effort over to eventual entropy. If Genesis works, all the power and influence we have built here on Earth will mean nothing. Are you truly prepared to become just another person, Your Grace?”


    Adrian stared at the coin on his knuckles, and his jaw tightened.


    “This world is not my home, Fiona, any more than it is yours, Sterling’s, or that of the rest of our people. I may not sit on a throne on Earth, but a King’s greatest duty is not self-aggrandizement; it is sacrifice—for his people, his nation, and his world. Success is all I care about. My bloodline knew the cost of this undertaking, but Faith forfends Doubt.”


    “Spoken like a Templar,” Fiona said with a faint hint of approval.


    “Spoken like a King,” Sterling agreed with a rumble.


    Adrian narrowed his eyes despite their words, and his fist tightened.


    “Return to your tasks,” he commanded instead of allowing himself to indulge in their praise. “If any complications arise at this juncture, deal with them with whatever means are necessary. We stand upon the cusp of Revelation, and nothing can be permitted to impede Genesis in these last four years.”


    Two sounds of assent came back to him, and Adrian loosened his fist to restart the coin’s roll along his knuckles.


    “Alea iacta est,” he muttered to himself, and fell outwardly silent.


    It is in your hands now, son. Adrian said into the safety of his own mind. One day, I hope you forgive me for what you must endure.