The sound of the trees swaying outside was soft, barely a whisper. It was early morning, and the world was asleep. But not Iker. Not since he realized he no longer belonged to this time, nor to his family, nor even to the routine of ordinary human beings. He was beyond.
The monitor in his study turned on by itself, with a dim white light that didn't disturb the silence of the night. It was Eidolon. Always vigilant. Always awake.
"Report," Iker whispered, without taking his eyes off the plans he was drawing in his leather notebook.
The synthetic voice, firm but almost maternal, responded gently:
"Total earnings from operations for the last quarter project a net income of seven hundred and thirteen million US dollars. Diversified sources, no traceable link to the Ayala name."
Iker didn't smile. This wasn't a time for celebration, but for the next step.
"Find an island. Not a piece of land… a base of operations. As large as possible. Isolated enough to go unobserved, but rich enough to sustain everything."
There was a brief silence as Eidolon consulted networks, scanning old cartographic documents, satellite maps, and abandoned property records. Only a few minutes passed before he spoke again.
"I have located an island not formally registered in international conservation systems, located 480 kilometers southwest of the coast of Michoacán. Its original name on file is "Tzabek Island," although it was discarded in the 1990s after a failed attempt at geothermal exploration. Currently, it is considered uncultivated and without strategic use. Area: 538 square kilometers. Water richness, humid forests, endemic flora. Underground rivers, zones of stable altitude. No recorded seismic activity in the last 70 years."
Iker looked up.
"And the government?"
"He ignores its true value. He considers it a remnant zone with no industrial potential. It can be acquired through a front company at a base price through inactive expropriation."
Iker stood up. He walked to the window, crossing his arms.
"Acquire it. Now. Don't let a single written line remain that could link it to me."
"Order executed."
Outside, the sky was beginning to turn blue. Dawn would soon come, but Iker didn't feel tired. Only vision.
He returned to the basement. The production units were active. Kara-H1 silently supervised as six new androids assembled themselves, following instructions coded directly from Eidolon.
That space was no longer just a makeshift laboratory: it was becoming an autonomous factory. Robots building robots. Mechanical arms molding synthetic dermis, assembling artificial nerves, configuring personality modules.
"We can't trust corporations," Iker said to himself. Humans seek fame, influence, access. They would sell my plans to the highest bidder without a second thought.
Kara-H1 turned to face him. Her expression was neutral, but her tone mimicked understanding.
"Do you trust me?"
He looked at her calmly.
"I trust in what you don't have: ambition."
The first batches of assistance androids—identified as the K-H1 series—would begin to be transported to Tzabek Island in the coming weeks. It would be done by sea, in modified containers, with maritime routes hidden among legal shipments of agricultural machinery. All supervised by artificial intelligence. No human would know what was happening.
Meanwhile, Eidolon was already drawing up the master plan of the island. A natural security ring. A core where his future mansion would rise, not just as a residence, but as a command center. Beneath it would be the new factory, this time on a massive scale. And far beyond, a project still unnamed: the park.
Iker scanned the lab's incubators. All empty.
He could begin the cloning process. He had the tools, the genetic vectors, even the simulated DNA recovery models. But he wouldn't. Not yet.
"Nothing will be born until there is land to walk on, air to breathe... and security to protect them."
"Confirmed," Eidolon said. "Biogenetic cloning process blocked. It will only be reactivated under direct order and full emotional verification."
That night, Iker returned home later than usual. Alma was asleep on the couch, a blanket over her shoulders and a cup of iced tea at her fingertips. The television, still on, was showing children's cartoons.
Iker didn't wake her. He just sat beside her, silent, while the world she knew slowly disappeared... without her even knowing it.