Chapter 110: The Fall

The Halcyon exits Drift on the outskirts of the Moon, which it skirts along an orbital trajectory with elegance. Endymions who survived the battle of Caliban send connection pings, but the onboard AIs of the stealth ship make it vanish.

It dives toward Origin to halt, via inverse grappling, at the heart of the Xeno Friendship Park not far from the tower. Wrapped in black metal like an Armor, Andreï is ejected and falls to the ground. The Wau, clinging to the exterior, also leaps down and lifts him back up.

Diplomats, couriers, and AI drones contact the authorities, while the newcomers take the road toward the great Tower of the HS Council. Two squads of Origin’s security block the way to the main square, tourists unsure whether to run for cover or take images of the Wau.

The giant and the admiral continue forward naturally under the great Saharan sun of early morning. Like waters parting under a divine impulse, armies step aside and rifles fall before the Wau, a blend of psi manipulation and AI. Journalists stationed on high ground, well aware of rumors of collapse surrounding Caliban, wonder whether a regime change is imminent-triggering on social networks a sudden surge of hope that speaks volumes about how little affection the silent majority held for the Aleph.

At the entrance to the tower stand two immense security and crowd-control drones, with conspicuous thermal weapons. They remain like statues as the Wau’s AIs deactivate them.

Andreï and the Wau advance step by step toward their objective, and all doors open, even though every stair feels exhausting to both of them.

The grand entrance hall, usually rich with visitors, celebrities, and dignitaries, as well as exhibitions and museum pieces, is desperately empty. The day before the Aleph seized the tower, an exhibition on the evolution of Laws and standing stones was being held; in particular, a black stele of Hammurabi on loan from the Louvre is covered by tarps and has been more or less vandalized.

On the ground lie fragments of firearms, traces of battles, scattered files, some labeled “confidential.”

It is also a crime scene: just in front of the entrance, a special forces member lies in a pool of fresh blood. The Wau bends down: he has been almost cut in two from behind by a long blade. Thirty meters away, in front of an elevator, the same crime-though this time the victim has a rifle in hand.

“Who would fight the Aleph with a blade?” asks the Wau.

“Me,” replies Andreï with a faint smile.

The elevator carries them to the top floor in silence and tension.

Andreï clenches his fist, senses the presence of the Aleph, and dissipates it. In the same motion, he also dissipates his own powers by severing the link.

The elevator door opens and he declares:

“There is no longer any god on Earth.”

The Wau guides his friend down the grand ceremonial corridor, which now smells of death-the sight of a hanged man, for months in the same office, eaten by worms, is impossible to miss: the Aleph deliberately had the door removed.

Wind through open windows has pushed more papers into the corridor. There is blood as well, the remnants of passing victims of a fit of rage.

Andreï stops before a large platform with an open porthole that must once have been an informal meeting room or a place to eat. Storks from northern Europe rummage through a ripped-open food dispenser. A potted Xeno plant has grown, passed through the porthole, and adorns the exterior with large blue flowers. In the annihilation of the administrative system by nature, there is a strange form of hope.

The immense double door of the HS Council chamber is closed-sealed, more precisely. The Wau kicks it in and it opens so violently that it rebounds several times inside. They enter.

The HS Council chamber, transformed into an obscene throne room, has new trappings: large ethereal drapes with Xeno motifs float in the morning breeze. The sole meeting table has been pushed into a corner and furnished with armchairs, bookcases, and low tables bearing tempting cakes and rare drinks.

Near the throne stands a large bed from which Garen Antor rises in surprise. He had been sleeping. There is another person under the sheets. Long, disheveled hair-a feminine silhouette sleeping deeply.

The Aleph is naked, rubbing his eyes like a child. He sees the Wau and Andreï and gives them a knowing nod meaning I’m with you in a moment.

In a corner, a holographic screen displays exactly 1,038 notifications. Still naked, he asks an AI for a summary, showing that despite hundreds of years of existence, he still has the body of a man in his early thirties. He no longer has Transient powers but still enjoys their consequences. The AI briefly explains the debacle of Caliban.

“They are all dead,” he says almost sadly, leaning on the table supporting the screen.

He clenches his fist. He realizes he has no more power. He closes his eyes, overcome by violent emotions that crush him: failure, humiliation, guilt, helplessness. He sighs, looks at the figure lying in his bed, and the Wau reads in him that his heart is lighter.