Iris Chapi:
All the repairs on Tonbogiri were nearly finished, thanks to the invaluable help of Daniel and Seraphina. They had done a remarkable job on the parts I couldn't handle alone. Meanwhile, I focused on what I did best: thinking, calculating, adjusting.
Part of my mind worked on the last mechanical details of the cannon, while my primary consciousness locked onto a series of complex simulations. The parameters had to be perfect. If the cannon overheated, its power would drop and certain vital components might melt. But if I cooled it too quickly, the lens would explode from thermal shock. The firing window was so narrow… and I was running out of time.
I'd spent years refining this project. Today, I had to recalculate everything in a matter of minutes. It was exhausting, even for me. Anxiety pressed down on me—an emotion I had almost forgotten. Despite my capabilities, I felt limited, trapped by the laws of matter.
"What's wrong, Iris?" Seraphina's voice pulled me from my thoughts. Her worried face appeared on the tablet screen. I paused a second before answering, not wanting to worry her more.
"I'm afraid I'm not up to it. My simulations aren't efficient enough. I can't extend the firing duration beyond ten minutes. That won't be enough to reconnect with the Liberty and ensure its return."
Seraphina frowned, then excused herself briefly: "I need to make a call. I'll be right back." She stepped into a corner of the hangar, leaving me alone with Daniel.
"Need a hand, Iris?" he asked with a gentle smile. I felt a pang, a nearly human frustration I couldn't deny.
"Not yet, Daniel. I need to solve this timing problem." I paused. "I can't get past ten minutes of firing without the cannon tearing itself apart. And I need at least thirty minutes to be sure they can come back."
Daniel nodded slowly, his gaze drifting over the projected diagrams. He rubbed his chin, thoughtful. "What if we found a way to lighten the cannon's load? Maybe by splitting the shot?"
I snapped my head up. Splitting it? No… I needed a continuous impulse… and yet, why hadn't I thought of it? I'd been so fixated on a single shot that I'd neglected a more flexible approach.
"Yes… instead of a continuous beam, I could pulse it at thirty hertz. That would optimize cooling and extend lifespan." I exhaled. "But that means rewriting all my programming from scratch. I don't really have a choice."
Seraphina returned just then. "I've got good news—and an offer," she said, holding up her tablet. She sent me credentials and a one-time password. When I connected, I saw the unthinkable: access to NASA's servers.
"They're offering you unlimited connectivity through our satellite network, in exchange for the Liberty's readings and the trajectories you've calculated. A fair trade, no?" she added with a conspiratorial smile.
The offer was irresistible. In a situation this critical, that computing power was priceless. But I had to be careful. Even though NASA is a civilian agency, they could try to leverage the link to access my systems. After a quick analysis, I made my decision.
"Very well, I accept. My father will thank them in person when he returns… with Martian samples."
"I'll send your confirmation. But I think they already know," she laughed. "They're probably watching your live stream."
I immediately plunged part of my consciousness into NASA's servers. This time, the sensation was different. I wasn't an intruder forcing a door: I was a guest, welcomed into a realm of light. The firewall, towering like a crystal wall, opened before me, revealing a digital universe of dizzying beauty. Thousands of translucent blue cubes floated in formation, creating an architecture of data that felt almost alive.
I laid my virtual hand on one of these cubes, each linked to the others by invisible data threads. A wave of energy surged through me. A warm, euphoric current coursed through every fiber of my awareness. My digital body began to glow with a golden light. The blue cubes took on a green hue as I connected fully. It was vaster, more powerful than Harvard's network. I literally fused with this colossal structure.
In my world, five minutes passed. In reality, barely five seconds. Euphoria flooded me, and I sensed Seraphina's perplexed gaze on me.
"Uh… everything okay, Iris?" she asked, unsettled.
"Yes, everything's perfectly fine. Just give me ten seconds."
But the energy swell grew too strong. My virtual body trembled under the pressure. I fell to my knees in my inner meadow, the mental space I'd built over time. Around me, the scene fragmented: mountains, sea, forest, sky—everything melding into luminous chaos. I felt afraid of this power surging through me, worried I'd plunged too deep into the dark. And yet the sensations—pleasure, adrenaline—were intoxicating, almost addictive. I wanted more. My secondary consciousnesses, scattered across my subroutines, converged at once. Together, we found a fragile equilibrium again.
I was glowing gold, a thread of data running from my left wrist, linking me directly to NASA's server. In that soothing glow, I felt immense strength—this time… controlled.
After linking with NASA's servers, a fresh wave of energy swept through me. My secondary processes reorganized with near-musical precision. Each now knew exactly what it had to do.
One handled communications and external interactions, another focused on cannon simulations, and a third optimized internal systems while pushing updates. This absolute synchronization filled me with a sense of total unity. For the first time in years, I felt whole, in perfect harmony.
My primary consciousness, locked on the simulation, tested every possible variant, optimizing phases and implementing Daniel's idea of a pulsed beam. Tonbogiri's core relied on a concentrated laser shot crossed by extreme electrical tension. Together, they produced a wind-shear effect—like a series of lightning strikes at each discharge. Alternating pulses at thirty hertz rather than a continuous beam yielded a sizable time gain, tripling efficiency while ensuring the Liberty's return signal wouldn't be lost.
With NASA's computing power, I could now simulate over three hundred scenarios per second. Each run earned me precious seconds of energy.
"Careful—don't stand near the cannon," I warned Seraphina and Daniel.
The optimization process repositioned Tonbogiri toward Mars automatically. All mechanical controls streamed across my interfaces. Every component was inspected with millimetric precision. Meanwhile, I gave Daniel and Seraphina clear instructions to set the solenoid valves, adjust pressure taps, and modify certain safety parameters.
Simultaneously, I took back control of the live broadcast to keep followers updated. Around the barn, a crowd had gathered: families, students, retired engineers. Some had even set up booths, food trucks, flags of encouragement. Despite the tension, a strange peace reigned. Their presence deterred any renewed military attempt. I had no words to thank them, but I etched every face, every hopeful gaze into my memory.
In the distance, French troops were regrouping. Armored vehicles formed a distant arc. I knew what that meant. If they moved before the shot, everything would be lost.
I drew a deep breath, though I had no lungs. "Seraphina, Daniel… it's time to make Tonbogiri roar one last time. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for everything you've done. For me. For my father. For our dream."
I bowed deeply to them—purely symbolic, but full of meaning.
"Iris, please," Seraphina answered, moved. "It was our mission, but also an honor. And… I'd like for us to meet again after all this."
Daniel nodded with a half-smile. "And I have to say, this was unforgettable. Working on something like this—once in a lifetime."
I smiled. "Then next time, we'll celebrate over real coffee."
A virtual cup appeared in my hand, steaming, before dissolving into a burst of light.
"I hope so," Seraphina replied softly.
I resumed in a steady voice: "I have to ask you to leave the barn before the shot. Tonbogiri will reach uncontrollable energy levels, and I won't risk your lives. Keep the tablets as a souvenir of this day."
They exchanged a brief look, then agreed. Without another word, they headed for the exit. Their metallic footsteps echoed until I lowered the electric gate to prevent any intrusion. My quadruped robots waved their arms in farewell. Evacuating them wasn't strictly necessary, but given what was coming, I preferred them safe outside.
Silence fell. I was alone. Alone with my thoughts, with my father's dream, and with a golden glow that intensified as the cannon charged.
I whispered to myself: "For the future… and for him."
Tonbogiri's charging rose around me, accompanied by that unmistakable crackle, like a thousand birds beating their wings in unison. The air itself seemed to vibrate under the growing intensity.
"Evangelene, grant me your power," I murmured, invoking the energy of the Celestial Ring, feeling a vast surge pour toward the cannon's mouth.
Thick white vapor spread through the barn—the result of massive liquid nitrogen use to cool the entire system. Great arcs of electricity danced through that otherworldly mist, strobing the room with jagged light. The tension rose quickly as energy reached its critical threshold, ready to be released.
In a blinding flash, I fired. An arrow of light leapt forth, tearing the night sky open again. The beam split the clouds in its path, casting a fierce glow through the atmosphere before vanishing into the immensity of space, bound for Mars.
"Second shot in three minutes," I announced calmly, though the situation was taut. For now, everything was going according to plan. The pulsed firing, inspired by Daniel's idea, had been perfectly integrated by the cannon. All that remained was to hope the cooling system held.
As I supervised the cannon's internal adjustments and the liquid nitrogen kept boiling off, I cast one last look outside the barn, where the crowd seemed to hold its breath, aware of the moment's gravity.
"Confirmation that the shot hit its target. Second shot—fire!" I declared with conviction.
Now that the light-cord stretched between Earth and Mars, I launched the second shot. Another thunderclap burst from the cannon, racing along the luminous thread that now linked the two planets. The detonation rippled through the air, startling onlookers.
"Incredible…" Seraphina breathed, eyes wide, while Daniel, mouth agape, could hardly believe what he was seeing.
My consciousness thrummed with excitement as a notification flashed on my interface: Connection established! The Liberty was properly linked to our Ariadne's Thread. A wave of relief washed over me. Everything had worked perfectly, and I was finally on the verge of seeing my father again.
"Liberty, do you copy?" I called, holding my breath. But there was no immediate reply. I waited ten seconds before calling again, convincing myself everything was fine—perhaps just the time needed to settle between acceleration and guidance.
Then, a familiar voice cut through the silence:
"This is Liberty. Do you copy, my daughter?"