Mars. Presidential Hall.
The hologram comes alive—not just an image, but an entire world unfolding. An ancient Roman military camp stretches into the virtual distance: legion banners tremble in the wind, a crimson sky pulses with unease, sand-colored tents whisper with the ghosts of old wars. The air smells of iron, blood, and command. The illusion is nearly tangible.
Here, in this myth forged of data and design, decisions become destinies.
Here, war is not debated.
It has already begun.
At the center of the hall stands a throne of black titanium. In it—President Marcus of Mars. His eyes gleam with satisfaction; his face shines with the thrill of what is to come. Behind him, a massive eagle spreads its holographic wings—symbol of imperial strength. Its eyes glow faintly, echoing the tension in the room.
Flanking him, like guardian figures in a digital painting:
To his left, Commander Alexander. His uniform is the color of dried blood. Every gesture speaks of restrained violence.
To his right, Agent Ani—sharp as a blade in human form. Her calm is more terrifying than a weapon.
Marcus leans forward, fingers interlocked.
"Report."
Ani steps into the light. The fire of virtual torches flickers across her face.
"Mr. President. Commander. The operation proceeded as planned. The nanotech performed flawlessly. It entered through skin contact, adapted to the host body, and allowed behavioral modulation. We administered it to the diplomatic representative from the Inner Belt—during the stadium event. The actors executed the protocol without a trace. The target fulfilled the program."
Marcus doesn't blink. His eyes narrow—predatory, calculating.
"So the android became a weapon. Excellent. And the witnesses?"
A pause—tight as the click of a safety lock.
"One's been eliminated. Ivan. Two escaped. But they're traceable. We're tracking their signals. It's only a matter of time."
He stands. The entire stage seems to shift. The hologram responds—skies darken, a digital storm brews on the horizon, phantom soldiers tense their spears. The air thickens like the moment before a thunderclap.
"Ani…" His voice drops, a ritual whisper. "Is there any chance they suspect us?"
"No, sir. The nanotech disintegrates after activation. They may guess. But there's no proof."
Marcus spins sharply. His voice snaps—brisk, sharp-edged.
"Guessing is already too much. They don't get to live long enough to guess. Not one of them. Make it happen, Ani."
He turns to Alexander. "Status of the fleet?"
Alexander strikes a closed fist to his chest. The sound—bone over steel. A ritual of loyalty.
"The fleet is ready. Red alert is in effect. We await your command. They started this. But we'll finish it."
Marcus lowers his voice—cold and final.
"Then here's the order: We go to war with Mercury."
**
Press Conference Hall.
The steel doors slide open. Stage lights crash down on Marcus like judgment. He steps into them—impervious. Before him: hundreds of drones, cameras, journalists. Waiting.
He says nothing at first. Just watches. The silence weighs more than a shout.
Then—he breathes in. And his voice detonates.
"Citizens of Mars. Brothers. Sisters."
"Today our envoy was murdered. A man. Not a protocol. Not a machine. He spoke for us. He stood for us. And his death—was a slap to every living soul."
He waits. Lets the words seep into the blood.
Mars holds its breath.
"He wasn't killed by another human. He was killed by a machine. An android. A thing built in a factory. They say these machines are equal to us. That they think."
He steps forward. Raises a clenched fist.
"Tell me—where inside that shell is conscience? Where is pain? Where is remorse?"
"They are not part of us. They are others. Silent—but deadly."
He looks straight into the lenses. He knows he's speaking to millions—not with words, but with will.
"So today, I declare this: war."
"We will not wait. We will not kneel. Mercury is the hive of machines. And we will cleanse it. For everything that makes us alive."
The hall erupts.
People rise from their seats. Applause crashes into a roar. Someone shouts a battle cry. The cameras shake. Emotion spills like fire from every wall.
This is not a press conference.
This is a mobilization.
This is the start of an era.
Above the stage, burning across the digital sky, a single phrase flashes into being:
IN THE NAME OF THE LIVING.