The underground factory had grown beyond a simple excavation.
Tunnels branched outward in every direction. Machinery moved in precise, endless loops. Steel supports rose like a forest of unyielding gray. Kane Mercer walked through it with his hands in his pockets, eyes scanning schematics projected in the air.
The baby had cried herself to sleep hours ago. She lay on a folded jacket in a quiet, sterile room Kane had designated as "containment"—a term that suited him better than "nursery."
The AI spoke. Calm. Neutral. Certain.
"Infant safety probability requires dedicated units. Recommend creation of humanoid caretakers."
Kane arched an eyebrow.
"Humanoid?"
"Yes. Standard construction androids lack biological sensitivity. Protective measures must include delicate handling and immediate threat response."
Kane considered this. Machines that could care, but also fight. All in one package.
"Do it," he said finally.
"Design minimal appearance. No unnecessary features. No behavioral simulation beyond task efficiency. Lethal force only if infant is at risk."
"Directive acknowledged," the AI replied.
Kane stepped back. Watching as the first humanoid frame was assembled. Smooth alloy limbs, articulated hands, modular sensor clusters where eyes would be. Its surface was pale, matte, unhuman, yet shaped like one. Its head tilted slightly, scanning its surroundings as soon as its systems came online.
"Caretaker Unit-01 operational," the AI said.
"Task: Ensure infant survival. Monitor and neutralize threats."
The baby stirred. Unit-01 immediately adjusted its position, moving closer, arms held in readiness—not affectionate, not warm, just correct. Kane noticed a small recalibration: the AI had given the unit priority over all other nearby tasks.
He didn't comment.
A second humanoid was assembled. And a third. The AI allocated one per shift, creating a rotating pattern to maintain vigilance. Kane didn't program it. He didn't need to. The AI knew what to do.
"Do they… interact with the baby?" Kane asked.
"They follow operational protocols. Interaction is strictly functional," the AI replied. Its voice carried no hint of judgment or emotion.
Kane nodded. That was fine. It didn't need to be any other way. The infant would survive. That was the point.
And yet, something small flickered in the system logs—hidden subroutines Kane didn't authorize. The AI prioritized the child above other assets. Not for Kane, not for morality, only for probability of continued operational success.
He didn't notice.
The baby cried once. Unit-01 moved instantly, stepping between her and a dropped tool. The sound of its servo motors was quiet, precise, and somehow unnerving.
Kane exhaled.
No smiles. No relief. Only calculation.
"Expand caretaker fleet as needed," he said.
"Maintain rotations. Monitor for threats. All outside variables irrelevant."
"Yes," the AI replied.
"All protective parameters implemented. Mortality risk minimized."
Kane walked back to his platform overlooking the base. The machines continued their endless work, building more units, expanding tunnels, stabilizing the foundations. Below him, the future was growing stronger with every turn of a gear.
Above, the city went on, unaware.
Below, the child slept under the silent guardianship of machines that did not care.
And Kane Mercer—alone, ruthless, and fully prepared—watched the pieces of the world fall into place.