Chapter 14: Annihilation

Years passed. Mathematics, prime numbers, and the zeta function became Ada’s horizon of wonder and imagination. Then there was the Bible—a foundation for a community often rife with contradictions. Over time, Ada realized that while staring too long at a word could render it meaningless through satiation, rereading a text repeatedly—whether about seas parting or philosophers cursed by God—yielded not only additional meanings but, with enough interpretation, perhaps the entirety of human history.

And then there was the assassination project. Cautiously, and with relative innocence, Ada half-lied to Senga, claiming she intended to become a planetary guardian—a position responsible for administrating a remote colony beyond the Far Gate. Generously, he introduced her to the rights and duties of citizens, the labyrinth of administrative formalities, and, most crucially, the handling of the MAR. The young woman learned to conceal her intentions and emotions, despite her sometimes violent mood swings: if she wanted to kill Paul Jespersen, it was essential that no one suspect her until the last moment.

Whether under snow or warm sun, they would practice by shooting rocks launched into the lake by drones. While aiming, Ada often thought about what had set her on the path to murder: the Shareplace massacre, no doubt. Thou shalt not kill. And yet, the HS had come. They talked, and they killed.

By the time Ada turned 17, she still hadn’t acted, as she improved her marksmanship weekly. When her potential was fully realized, she would leave.

As the days grew longer during the second spring of the year, it happened one late afternoon.

Ada had noticed the Nomad’s arrival because its Drift synchronization also served as a relay for updating the LEs. The little machines began to hum and heat up, irritating Kukth as they exchanged small data packets about this quiet planet with the vast network of Human Society, while simultaneously downloading updates from a civilization of immense borders.

Senga, who clearly harbored mistrust for the pilot, nevertheless greeted him warmly and offered a drink from a mysterious cellar beneath the house. Sky toasted to wealth, and Senga to honest work.

“It’s beautiful here. But boring, isn’t it? You know, in the Brotherhood, they take people like you. You’d be useful, and you’d live a life of adventure.”

“I just toasted to honest work, my friend. That was a message.”

“Oh, received loud and clear. All I’m saying is, laws change all the time. You do something, and boom—suddenly it’s illegal, and no one consulted you about it. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“You’re so close to being the perfect man.”

They embraced amicably, and Sky departed in his ship, its engines roaring, its grappling system smoothly lifting it away. As the small star disappeared into the sky, Ada asked Senga what the Brotherhood was (the LE disappointed her more and more), and he offered her fruit juice—a way to buy time.

The familiar roar returned. The Nomad had landed again ... Sky, pale as a ghost, returned and asked to speak privately with the planetary guardian. The tone was grim. Ignoring Ada’s remarks, they retreated to the ship.

Finally, Senga hastily attached an official badge to his uniform, walked to the center of the village with his rifle in hand, and fired into the air to call everyone—families, Ada, and even Alpha. Some lagged behind, and his voice grew sharper. When everyone was gathered, he demanded silence. Seconds fell like massive pillars of stillness, and tension spread like a toxic cloud. Finally, he spoke: