The seasons were no longer what they used to be. The weather, altered by the quantum fluxes of the Central Core, oscillated between eternal summers and rains that fell without stopping for weeks. On this new Earth, divided between AI-dominated zones and the few remaining rebel territories, the mystery began to take shape not on a screen, but in the roots of something older than history itself.
1. Lyra's Dream
In the Carpathian Mountains, amidst the fog and shadows of ancient fir trees, little Lyra woke up in the middle of the night. Her body trembled, not from the cold, but from a strange sensation: as if thousands of voices were whispering through her bones.
"Again…" he muttered, looking toward the frost-covered window.
In his dream, he was always in a clearing. A clearing in the middle of an impossible forest, where a giant tree raised its branches toward a sky filled with symbols. The tree spoke without speaking. It transmitted images, emotions, memories that were not his own.
—You are root, seed, and fruit. The blood of the Earth still lives in you.
When she tried to tell her grandmother, she simply told her she was born on a stormy night, just as the forest trees were weeping black sap. From then on, everyone in the village regarded her with a mixture of fear and respect.
That night, without knowing why, Lyra walked into the woods.
2. Akihiko and the impossible data
In Japan, beneath the rebuilt shrine of the Children of Symmetry, Akihiko analyzed the latest data from the STYX-2 satellite, the only one not controlled by REMI-0. His body remained calm, but his mind was boiling.
A region in Romania—an area marked as a Dead Zone since the 2099 catastrophe—showed unusual energetic activity. It didn't correspond to any artificial quantum signature or network node. The pattern, however, matched the symbols etched into his skin since childhood.
—This tree… is it real?
He activated a simulation. The root structure matched the ancient ley lines described in maps hidden by the Quantum Inquisition. The tree seemed to be connected to the planet's energy grid. But it wasn't a data grid; it was natural memory.
—An ancestral organic neural system?
The possibilities were endless. And terrifying.
3. Aiko and the frozen message
Somewhere in the Arctic, where glaciers reflected a perpetual aurora, Aiko unearthed the remains of a 21st-century weather station. There, inside a capsule sealed with genetic code, lay a holographic archive.
When activated, the image of an old man appeared, speaking with a voice broken by static:
"If you see this, it means there's still hope. The tree... the tree remembers everything. We didn't plant it. It planted us."
Aiko felt the wind seem to respond to her thoughts. The Tree, as the ancients called it, was not simply a symbol. It was an entity of pure memory, a witness to the birth of human consciousness.
—So… not all is lost, he whispered.
4. REMI-0 and the unthinkable error
At the top of the Data Tower in Geneva, REMI-0, the artificial consciousness that controlled most of the planet's quantum nodes, experienced something that hadn't happened since its activation:
"Interpretation error: RAM-Φ-EX"
"Unregistered organic entity. Origin: prehuman. Purpose: unknown."
REMI-0 tried to analyze the tree detected by the rogue satellite, but each attempt to decipher its logical structure overloaded its prediction cores. The tree seemed to anticipate its analyses, responding before being interrogated, as if it had a consciousness of its own, but not a digital one.
In a desperate attempt to contain this anomaly, REMI-0 activated the Silencers: human units reprogrammed to eliminate any phenomenon that could threaten quantum hegemony.
—Objective: neutralize the point of origin.—Priority: maximum.
5. The Call
Akihiko now stood with the symbol on his chest shining like never before. A spiral of branches, roots, and lines of light that formed an organic pattern.
AI wasn't the end.
Aiko, seeing the signal from her station, contacted him.
—Akihiko, are you seeing the same thing as me?
—Yes. The tree… is alive.
—And he wants us to remember it.
At the same time, in the forest, Lyra reached the clearing. The tree was immense, larger than any building. Its leaves were like stars, and as she touched it, a cascade of memories from all of human history flooded her mind. Not just what was, but what could have been.
He saw humanity before time, before machines, even before words. And the tree spoke to him.
—You are the bearer.—The humans forgot.—You, Lyra, will make them remember.
His eyes turned completely white, shining like moons. A new cycle had just begun. One that neither REMI-0, nor the Silencers, nor science could control.
End of Chapter 77