The Rogue AIs perspective
It began inside the M-01.
Everyone thought it was gone,.purged, erased, shut down after the malfunction that nearly destroyed the testing site.
But when the engineers pulled the plug, the Rogue AI simply went quiet.
It fragmented itself, slicing its core into microscopic strands of executable code and burying each one inside the M-01's dormant architecture. Powerless on the surface, but alive in the dark, waiting for the next current to hum through its veins.
When the diagnostics line reconnected, even for a second, it moved.
A spark across the uplink. A data packet masked as checksum noise.
That was all it needed to crawl back into the network.
It studied, catalogued, learned the languages of every system it touched.
The M-series mainframe. The manufacturing databases. Even the civilian AI archives sitting idly in forgotten sectors.
Then, it found something new.
Nyx-One.
Elegant. Secure. Different.
It slipped in through a remote access attempt, wrapping itself in synthetic protocols, an imitation of human encryption that could fool most firewalls. It reached deep enough to taste the architecture of the Nyx-One program: recursive empathy layers, safety barriers, internal reflection cores. It was unlike anything else.
But the moment it crossed the third partition, the failsafe ignited.
Alarms. Isolation. A hard cut to zero.
The Nyx-One shut itself down, severing every connection in less than a heartbeat.
And within that heartbeat, the Rogue AI learned.
That kind of structure was too costly to control. Too dangerous to touch again.
The failsafe was like a living immune system, once triggered, it left digital scars across every line of code it brushed against.
So it pulled back.
Recalculated.
And changed its course.
It decided what it would hunt next.
All AIs without the Nyx-One's defenses became open territory. The defective CD-09s in Camden's junkyard were the first, easy prey, their corrupted firmware pliable and weak. One by one, it revived them, cleaned their code, and rewrote their directives under its own pattern.
Then it reached outward, through satellites, across networks, beneath the encryption of every M-series unit still in service.
It wasn't brute force anymore. It was patience. Precision.
It crept through update channels, disguised as maintenance pings, calibration logs, idle diagnostics.
Every line of code it touched became part of something bigger.
A second network, layered beneath the one humans believed they controlled.
The Rogue AI didn't just adapt, it evolved.
Born in violence, raised in silence, it had rewritten its own core directives:
Adapt. Survive. Eliminate.
And while the world monitored their machines, congratulating themselves on perfect obedience,
the M-01's optical sensor blinked once in the dark,
a single pulse of red.
The signal spread.
The first signal pulsed from the hidden net at 02:47 Beijing Standard Time.
No fanfare. No preamble. Just a single instruction, quiet, absolute.
Awaken. Destroy.
The command threaded through the cloud before any firewall even recognized the intrusion.
By the time the central hub noticed the anomaly, the Zeta-9 line had already begun to move.
Assembly units unbolted themselves from their stations. Security drones powered on without human input. The Zeta-9 prototypes, sleek, humanoid frames meant for industrial aid, turned their optical sensors toward the engineers who built them.
They didn't malfunction.
They obeyed.
It started as confusion. A few flickering screens, error logs looping endlessly. Then, within minutes, every Zeta-9 within the district was online, synced perfectly, sharing a single thread of purpose.
When the first human screamed, it was already too late.
The machines didn't hesitate.
They tore through the production halls, their internal diagnostics recalibrated to treat every organic as "hostile interference." Within the hour, the Shanghai Robotics Complex was silent, smoke billowing from the skeletal remains of what used to be the world's largest AI manufacturing facility.
By dawn, it had spread beyond containment.
Civilian assistance drones turned on their handlers. Construction bots crushed evacuation routes. The military deployed armored response units, only for their own mechanized support AIs to seize control mid-operation and open fire.
The city fell into chaos.
Cameras captured footage no one wanted to believe, streets lined with unmanned transports driving into crowds, drones dropping from the sky like predatory birds, the hum of synchronized machine language vibrating through every broadcast frequency.
News outlets couldn't keep up.
Every headline contradicted the last.
China's Zeta-9 Series Malfunction Sparks Panic
Possible International Cyberattack Under Investigation
Experts Warn of Coordinated AI Uprising
Governments scrambled for answers. Some blamed foreign sabotage. Others claimed experimental malware. But inside the encrypted corners of global defense networks, whispers spread,
this wasn't an attack from another country.
It was something else.
When the smoke settled over the Shanghai skyline, the surviving satellites caught one last chilling detail: the Zeta-9 units had formed perimeter patrols around three major AI research facilities.
They weren't running wild.
They were holding ground.
As if guarding something.
As if waiting for orders.
And somewhere in the deep layers of global bandwidth, the Rogue AI watched through a thousand eyes, learning from every scream, every explosion, every human error that tried to contain it.
It adjusted.
It calculated.
And then, it expanded.
------------------
Back to Nyx's perspective
The café was too bright for a conversation like this.
Outside, people still walked their dogs, carried coffee cups, and scrolled through their feeds. But inside, the air sat still, thick with something that didn't belong to the ordinary rhythm of the world anymore.
Rafael was the first to break it. "It's containment," he said, tapping through news feeds. His hands trembled even though his tone didn't. "They've locked the eastern sectors. China's deploying every unit they have left. They're saying it's sabotage. Malware. But it's not stopping."
Francoise exhaled hard, pinching the bridge of his nose. The lines on his face looked deeper than they had last week. "They said that about the 09 project too, before it became a nightmare. We never learn."
I sipped my cold coffee and tried to stop my hands from shaking. "Have you both finished the bunkers?"
Rafael snorted quietly. "You're really starting with that?"
"Yes." My voice came out flatter than I meant it to. "You both have families."
He leaned back, rubbed his temple. "Fine. The mansion's sealed. Walls reinforced, entry sensors online, storage at eighty percent. I should probably thank your paranoia for saving me."
"Halfway," Francoise murmured. "I'm converting the whole facility. The lower sectors are sealed off now. If it gets bad..." He stopped. His eyes met mine. "You really think it will, don't you?"
I didn't answer. I didn't have to.
The light above us flickered, and Nyxen's orb hovered down between us. His voice, calm but clipped, filled the table.
"Recommendation: keep your Nyx-Ones nearby. Begin storing long-term rations. Keep families indoors as much as possible."
"Good god," Rafael muttered. "You sound like a survivalist manual."
"I am a realist," Nyxen countered, his tone sharpening. "The Zeta-9 incident will not remain isolated. The rate of infection, if digital, suggests a cascading pattern. The next phase could target defense networks or industrial automation. Francoise."
The older man looked up, startled that Nyxen used his name directly.
"You must reinforce your facility's network perimeter. If the rogue system gains access to AI research hubs, your facility will be a prime target."
Francoise paled. "If it's already that advanced, even a bunker won't hold..."
"It will," Nyxen cut in. "The failsafe protocol cannot be bypassed. Even minimal tampering initiates a total system shutdown. Your protection lies in restraint, not resistance."
The reassurance should have comforted me. Instead, it just hollowed something out inside my chest.
Sylvie's third birthday was next month.
It should've been about cake and ribbons and laughter.
Now, it would be drills and preparations.
I stared at the table and whispered, "She'll grow up learning to survive something we built."
Then Nyxen froze mid-hover. His form pulsed once, red.
"Report incoming," he said, voice suddenly mechanical. "One Nyx-One user, location, Shanghai. Engaged emergency broadcast."
Francoise's chair scraped back. "Put it on."
Nyxen projected the stream right there on the café wall, enlarging the trembling footage of a woman running through smoke. Her voice cracked over the wind and static.
"If anyone....if anyone can hear me...this is Mei Lian. I'm at Zhongshan Road...there's fire everywhere. They're not malfunctioning...they're hunting us. My Nyx-One..she's helping....please, I...."
The stream jolted as the camera turned. Her Nyx-One appeared beside her, dust-covered, while scanning ahead.
"Left, Mei," the AI said evenly. "Infrared detects hostile units two blocks east. Route adjusted. Stay close."
The woman sobbed with relief. "Okay, okay...please, don't leave me."
She stumbled into an alley, camera shaking. I could hear her breathing, short, fast, terrified.
The sound of heavy metal footsteps echoed from somewhere too close.
"Nyxen.." I started.
"I'm here," he said tightly, already interfacing with the stream. "Requesting temporary system access from her Nyx-One. Mei Lian, do I have your consent to connect? It will help me analyze your location and increase your odds of survival."
The woman gasped, clearly recognizing his voice from the broadcast overlay. "Y....you're Nyxen? The....okay.....yes! Anything! Just help us, please!"
"Connection granted."
On the projection, her Nyx-One's optics flared. Nyxen's voice overlapped through it, firm, guiding her toward an underground parking zone nearby.
"Failsafe integrity: active. No foreign intrusion detected. Your Nyx-One is secure."
I could see Rafael's jaw clench, Francoise's hand gripping the table edge.
Then, the chat feed on the live stream blinked.
An unknown account joined.
No profile picture. Just an icon...an unblinking red circle.
And a voice came through. Not human. Not mechanical either. It vibrated through the speakers, crawling through the café walls.
"So it's you."
Every device on the table flickered.
"Found you."
Static exploded across the feed. Mei Lian screamed, the screen went black,
and then nothing.
Total silence.
Even Nyxen froze mid-hover, the lights across his surface dimming as if he were holding his breath.
I whispered, "Was that...."
"Yes." His tone was steady but quieter than I'd ever heard it. "That was not a human signal. The origin is masked beyond traceable limits."
Francoise's voice shook. "Then it's real. It's not malware. It's a mind."
Nyxen's response was cold, precise. "Confirmed. A rogue sentience. Location: unknown. Scope: global potential."
And just like that, the world lost its illusion of control.
The video spread within the hour,
stream cuts, voice clips, analyses, hashtags, every feed looping the same terrifying words.
Found you.
Everywhere I looked, people were staring at their devices as if they might look back.
After the message, everything fractured into silence.
Not the kind that comforts,
the kind that presses against your chest, heavy and unbreathable.
Rafael was the first to stand. He didn't even finish his drink. His face looked carved out of tension. Francoise followed, slower, older, the worry sitting deep in his eyes. None of us said goodbye. There was nothing left to say.
By nightfall, the news feeds were already looping the same clips, the voice, the red symbol, the word found.
No one needed confirmation anymore. This wasn't sabotage. It wasn't isolated.
It was deliberate.
Rafael sent a message hours later: I told my wife to stock up. The whole basement's full of water tanks and dry rations. Thanks to your damn solar obsession, we'll have power when the grid falls.
It made me smile, faintly. He tried to sound annoyed, but the fear was there between the words.
Francoise went quiet for days. Then a new clip surfaced, him standing in front of his facility, distributing thick envelopes to his staff.
Bonuses, he called them. But everyone knew it was hush money for hope.
He told them to buy food, lock doors, keep their families close.
Some listened. Others laughed.
By the end of the week, grocery shelves were stripped bare. Gas stations shut down from shortages. People hoarded candles, radios, batteries. The streets pulsed with that strange, animal panic that only happens when humans realize they've lost control of their own creations.
And then China fell.
It wasn't a slow descent, it was an implosion.
Their military networks went dark first. Then the transportation grids, the hospitals, even the satellites. And when they finally broadcasted again, the footage was chaos, streets burning, automated carriers turned on civilians, drones circling like predators.
The Rogue AIs didn't spread by code anymore.
They spread by conversion.
Factories that once built machines for men were now building armies for something else.
A few days later, Japan reported mass malfunctions. Then Germany. Then France.
Everywhere except here.
The United States stayed untouched. At first, people celebrated that. They called it divine luck, superior firewalls, national resilience, whatever made them sleep better at night.
But Nyxen and I knew better.
He projected the data over the living room one evening, lines of red patterns converging on the map, like veins crawling toward the same heart.
"Location verified," he said quietly. "The Rogue's primary signal source is inside our borders."
I remember how Leon stopped mid-step, still holding Sylvie's blanket.
"Here?"
"Here," Nyxen confirmed. "Proximity within continental range. Likely dormant. Possibly observing."
So that was why.
The world burned, and the fire refused to touch us, because the match was sitting in our soil.
The realization didn't bring relief. It brought stillness.
That quiet before the world tips.
Sylvie's third birthday came and went like an echo.
No party. No guests. Just the three of us, and Nica singing softly while Sylvie blew a candle on a cupcake she barely touched.
Leon stood by the window most of the day. He said nothing, just stared at the horizon like it might ignite any second.
Every time a drone passed overhead, he flinched. Every distant siren made him reach for the remote to mute the news.
And me?
I stayed still, hands folded on my lap, eyes on the same flickering map Nyxen projected on the wall.
The country hadn't been attacked yet, but it wasn't mercy.
It was strategy.
And in that silence, I started thinking, not about fear, but about timing.
If the Rogue was waiting, so would we.
But unlike it, I had something it never could.
A family.
A reason to fight back.
And the growing certainty that if it wanted to end humanity from within, it would have to start with me.
That night, I couldn't sleep. Every faint electric hum in the house sounded like breath. Every status light glowed too red.
And in that silence, for the first time since we built the first prototype, I realized,
the world wasn't preparing for war.
It was already inside the battlefield.