What exactly was SIBYL?
Was it omniscient?
No. But it might as well have been.
SIBYL was the crutch of modern Germany in the late 22nd century. At its worst, it was the most invasive breach of privacy ever conceived, a digital overseer that stripped people bare in ways no human could.
Yet to those in active service, it was salvation, a miracle, the holy grail of information.
SIBYL had long outgrown its original purpose. What began as an assistive cognitive network meant to aid those with neural disabilities had evolved into an entity beyond human comprehension.
It was law.
It was judge.
It was jury.
It was God.
Dream Industries, the megacorporation that birthed and refined the system, had controlled nearly every facet of human life. Every step taken by anyone connected to the grid passed through SIBYL's omnipresent algorithm.
For the average citizen, SIBYL was a necessity. It decided who could work, where one could live, and what one could become. In the eyes of the public, it was perfection made possible.
For those in active service, however, SIBYL was an interface directly fused into the neural pathways of the brain. With a single thought, they could summon data, search the global network, or project visual information across their optic nerves.
That meant, in theory, Julius possessed access to every piece of public information available in the late 22nd century, twenty-one years before SIBYL's full integration into society.
As long as he knew what to search for, knowledge was never scarce.
Across Berlin, in a newly renovated building, Vincent was giving Isolde a tour.
"This… Is Mister Schneider really certain about this?" she asked. "This is too much…"
Even now, the reality of it all felt distant to her, like a dream she wasn't supposed to be part of.
"If you wish for further confirmation, here." Vincent handed her his phone.
Isolde hesitated at first before taking it. "Hello?"
——Yes, Miss Isolde. My apologies for not being there to show you around personally. I'm currently handling something at the moment. But tell me, how's the facility? Do you see any room for improvement?
Isolde blinked, momentarily speechless as she looked around.
——I cross-referenced the layout of your previous laboratory and had this one modeled closely after it. I wasn't certain about the specific equipment you'd need, but everything you previously used should be there, brand new, and all up to date with the latest tech.
She tightened her grip on the phone. "This… this is far beyond anything I imagined."
Isolde didn't completely trust Julius, but she trusted his intent. It was clear he wanted something from her, though what that was remained uncertain.
And yet, despite that, Julius never once compromised her autonomy.
He provided her with everything she needed and, in return, demanded nothing beyond her expertise. It was an arrangement unlike anything she had ever been offered.
Other corporations had tried to purchase SIBYL's prototype from her before, offering contracts filled with promises and prestige, but all of them came with one condition.
Control.
Julius was different. He granted her complete freedom, as if he already believed in her abilities without question. As if he didn't doubt, even for a second, that she was capable.
That was what confused her most. She hadn't yet proven her worth to him. She was a woman in her thirties, drowning in debt.
So why her?
What did Julius Sebastian Schneider see in someone like her?
"I think… I need to take a closer look for a moment…"
——Yes, feel free. And don't hesitate to ask my accountant, Vincent, if you need anything. There are no limits. Hundreds, thousands, millions, billions, spend as you please.
"...."
Isolde's fingers tightened around the phone. That wasn't at all what she expected to hear.
From what she had seen so far, Julius was clearly a son rebelling against his father. And knowing Johannes Sievernich Schneider, there was no way he would have allowed such reckless spending.
Even if Julius had somehow convinced him, Johannes would have placed strict oversight over every cent.
"Mister Schneider… this much funding, your father wouldn't approve of this, would he?"
——You're right. He wouldn't.
"...."
——Don't worry. I have my own assets. I stopped relying on my family's money when I received my diploma.
"...."
That statement alone left her speechless.
——Ah, and about staffing, consult Vincent for that. I'm not familiar with the kind of personnel your research requires, so you'll have to evaluate that yourself. I'm certain you have former colleagues you'd like to work with. Draw up the contract details with him directly.
Isolde turned toward Vincent. The man looked utterly dejected, as if the thought of a dozen new responsibilities had just fallen onto his shoulders.
——Is he sulking? Tell him if he compromises, he'll have to answer to me.
"....!"
Vincent's face paled. He frantically waved a hand at Isolde as if pleading for mercy.
"Ah, no," she said quickly, glancing between the phone and Vincent. "Sir Vincent seems… excited about what the future holds for him."
"...."
Vincent nodded vigorously in agreement.
* * *
Behind the call, Julius ended the line on his end.
There was only one thing he truly wanted from Isolde, and that was control over SIBYL.
But not in the same way as everyone else.
While corporations that noticed its existence sought to weaponize or monopolize it, and in the future, to turn SIBYL into an omniscient overseer that dictated every corner of humanity, Julius desired something simpler.
Regulation.
He wanted to ensure that SIBYL would never again become what it had in his previous life. He didn't care what goals or ideals Isolde pursued with it, so long as moderation remained at its core.
Because everything needed moderation.
That was the difference between progress and destruction. Between reason and obsession.
Yet, humanity had always been a race incapable of moderation. No matter how much power it acquired, it always sought more. That insatiable hunger was what had led the world to burn in the future he remembered.
And that was why Julius had to intervene, why he had to ensure, this time, that balance would be preserved.
Even if it meant bending that balance himself.
"We're sorry for making you wait, Mister Schneider."
"Please, take a seat, Miss Marianne. You as well, Miss Adler," Julius said as he gestured toward the chairs across from him. "The trip to Berlin must've been exhausting, especially with all the attention surrounding you two lately."
Marianne's mother hesitated before sitting, her hands clasped tightly on her lap. She still looked weary. Beside her, her daughter contrasted her looks with a bright expression that Julius had never seen while staying at their home.
Julius watched them for a moment before speaking again.
"I understand that recent events have left your family in a difficult position. But rest assured, you're safe here. No one outside this building knows of your arrival."
Marianne's mother glanced up. "Mister Schneider… why help us? My husband… he—"
Julius raised a hand, stopping her before she could continue.
"It's quite unfortunate. But, if I may ask, were you two aware of Mister Friedemann's dealings?"
Marianne's mother hesitated, her lips parting before she gave a faint nod. "...Yes."
Julius simply nodded, neither surprised nor judgmental. His gaze turned toward Marianne, who had remained silent throughout the exchange.
"Miss Marianne?" he prompted.
"I saw him once… on a call. I didn't know everything at first, but after that, I started putting things together. I told him to stop, that if he kept going, it would destroy us once he was caught."
"...."
"He said he would… but he didn't."
And that's why you wanted to run."
Marianne turned toward her mother, frustration evident in her expression.
"I didn't want to get swept up in his mess. But, Mom—" she clenched her fists, "I told you. We should've left when we had the chance."
"He was still your father, Marianne…"
"That's exactly why!" Marianne's voice rose, though it was not loud enough to echo. "Because he was my father!"
"Then, I take it, this makes both of you accomplices?"
"...."
"...."
The room fell dead silent.
The tension stretched for several seconds before Julius spoke again.
"I understand. It was an unavoidable situation. I take it both of you tried speaking with Mister Adler, but ultimately failed to convince him in the end."
At that, Julius stood. There wasn't much else he could do for them. Financial aid and a carefully drafted report to the Secret State Police would have to suffice for now.
"Mister Schneider," Marianne said suddenly. "Who was it that reported my father?"
Julius paused, then glanced over his shoulder. "Was it not obvious?"
Marianne didn't respond, though the answer was already there in her mind. She had suspected it from the start, ever since recalling the conversation she had with Julius, right before he departed from their mansion.
"It was me."
Marianne's mother frowned. "Mister Schneider, that's…" She couldn't finish the sentence. She didn't know whether to hate him or fear him.
"Yes," Julius continued. "I'm the one who tore your family apart."
"Even after we treated you hospitably…"
"If I hadn't made the report, your husband would've crossed a line he could never return from."
"You don't know that—"
"I do." He interjected. "And if I hadn't acted, all of you would've been condemned alongside him. Your husband is fortunate. He'll spend the rest of his life imprisoned. If he hadn't been caught now, the communists would have dragged him into open rebellion… and the result would have been far worse."
He didn't mention the truth. That Friedemann Adler wasn't just imprisoned, but had been sent to a concentration camp.
"But this," Julius continued, "is going to be a problem."
Marianne's mother frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Mister Adler wasn't just a mayor," Julius said. "He was a figurehead secretly supporting the Revolutionary Army. To the restless youth, he was a symbol who dared to defy the State from within."
He paused, his expression darkening.
"And when someone like that is captured, what do you think happens?"
Neither of them answered. They didn't need to. They both understood the implications.
"That's right. The flames of rebellion will ignite."