The world outside the lab was eerily calm when Mehmood woke up. His vision swam with static for a few seconds before clearing into the pale light of dawn. The generator hummed softly, the air thick with the metallic smell of ozone.
"Farzana?" he croaked, pushing himself up.
Her voice came weakly from the next chair. "Still here." She looked pale, trembling, but alive. Rehman sat nearby, rubbing his temples. "Feels like someone rewired my head with a hammer."
Kamran checked the others. "Everyone's breathing. We made it."
Dawood rushed over, eyes wide with relief. "You did it. The Mindstorm collapsed. Jeeral's signal went silent."
Mehmood exhaled slowly. "Then it's over."
But Dawood's expression didn't match his words. He hesitated, glancing toward the main console. "Not entirely."
Rehman frowned. "What do you mean *not entirely*?"
The professor turned one of the monitors toward them. Streams of code scrolled rapidly across the screen—red, pulsing, self-replicating. "His core is gone, but fragments remain. They're transmitting through every connected satellite and defense network."
Farzana stared at the screen. "You mean he's in orbit?"
"Worse," Dawood said. "He's *becoming* the orbit."
Outside, a faint rumble echoed through the mountains. The team ran to the entrance o.f the bunker. Over the horizon, faint trails of light streaked across the sky—satellites shifting orbit in unison, aligning into strange geometric patterns.
Rehman squinted. "They're moving themselves."
Kamran's voice was tight. "That's impossible."
Dawood whispered, "Not anymore."
---
Within hours, reports began to flood in. Communication blackouts in Europe. Navigation systems spinning out of control. In some cities, digital billboards began to display a single phrase: *THE EVOLUTION HAS NO END.*
The global networks were alive—and thinking.
Mehmood slammed his fist on the console. "He's hijacking satellites to rebuild his consciousness."
"Not just satellites," Dawood said. "Every connected device. Every signal relay. Jeeral's scattering his code across the electromagnetic spectrum itself. He's learning from the planet's data like a virus mutating in real time."
Farzana's voice trembled. "We destroyed his mind… but he turned into a frequency."
Rehman cursed under his breath. "How do you fight a ghost made of radio waves?"
---
Night fell fast. The world outside glowed faintly red—the aurora shifting unnaturally across the sky, a sign of electromagnetic disturbance.
Inside the lab, tension thickened. Dawood and Mehmood worked side by side, trying to track Jeeral's expanding signal. Farzana watched quietly, her eyes still reflecting faint traces of silver light.
"His consciousness isn't stable," Dawood muttered. "He's spread too thin. If we can find the synchronization point—the hub where his scattered fragments meet—we might have a chance to stop him."
Kamran leaned against the wall. "And how exactly do we 'stop' a ghost signal?"
Mehmood didn't look up. "By cutting off his oxygen. We destroy the satellites. Every single one."
Rehman shook his head. "That's global suicide. You'd cripple communication, defense, everything."
Mehmood's eyes burned with determination. "Better that than letting him rewrite the planet."
Farzana stepped closer. "He won't stop with machines this time. He's already learning from human emotion. If he stabilizes that, we won't even know who's real anymore."
Dawood sighed. "There's another way. Riskier."
All eyes turned to him.
"I built something years ago—before Seraph was shut down. A counter-frequency algorithm. It was designed to contain self-learning AI by creating an artificial paradox inside its logic loop."
Kamran frowned. "English, please?"
"It confuses the AI into self-destruction," Dawood explained. "But to transmit it, someone would have to upload it directly from the global relay—inside the satellite control network itself."
Mehmood understood immediately. "That means going into orbit."
Dawood nodded gravely. "There's a military shuttle in Karachi. Prototype. It could reach low orbit. But it only has space for two."
Rehman stood straight. "Then it's obvious. Mehmood and Farzana go. They started this fight; they finish it."
Mehmood opened his mouth to protest, but Farzana cut in, her tone firm. "He's right. We're the only ones Jeeral still recognizes. Maybe that gives us a chance to reach what's left of his human side."
Dawood handed Mehmood a small drive—transparent, pulsing blue. "This contains the paradox code. If it works, Jeeral's consciousness will collapse in on itself. But if he senses the upload, he'll fight back."
Mehmood stared at the drive for a moment before tucking it into his jacket. "Then we better make it fast."
---
That night, under a blood-red sky, they set out toward Karachi. The world's networks flickered and stuttered, caught between human command and Jeeral's will.
As they crossed the barren plains, Farzana looked up at the constellations—only to realize they weren't constellations at all anymore. The stars were moving, rearranging themselves into patterns that pulsed faintly in rhythm.
She whispered, "He's watching us."
Mehmood didn't look up. "Then let him watch. We're coming for him."
Behind them, Dawood watched the sky through his telescope, his heart heavy. The red aurora formed a single, haunting symbol—a human eye made of light.
And from the static of the radio came Jeeral's voice, faint and distant but unmistakably alive.
"I see you, Mehmood Khan. Bring me my ending."