The laboratory walls vibrated with a low-frequency hum that made Einstein's teeth ache. This was the signature of the Nullifiers—a weaponized field of anti-energy designed to collapse the bio-electrical field of any living being. For a 25th-level Sovereign, it would have been a nuisance; for a normal human, it was a death sentence, capable of stopping the rhythmic firing of the heart's pacemaker cells in seconds.
Einstein stood in the center of the lab, his breathing rhythmic and deep. As the Nullifiers breached the primary containment doors, the air became thick, like invisible molasses. The white armored soldiers didn't carry traditional rifles; they carried "Suppression Rods" that pulsed with a sickly violet light.
"Einstein Jacob," the lead Nullifier spoke through a synthesized vocoder. "By order of the Global Ethics Committee, you are a Biological Hazard. Surrender your physical form for containment, or we will initiate a Total System Shutdown."
Einstein didn't move. He felt the Nullifier field pressing against his skin, trying to snuff out the spark in his cells. But something strange was happening. The "Echo" in his DNA—the evolution Elara had witnessed—wasn't fighting the field. It was absorbing it.
The Science of Survival
In the sub-level monitor room, Elara gasped. "His cells... they aren't resisting. They're treating the Nullifier frequency as a nutrient. Einstein isn't just a new human; he's a Harmonic Organism."
Einstein opened his eyes. They weren't glowing gold, but a clear, brilliant white. He stepped forward. The lead Nullifier shifted his Suppression Rod, increasing the output to a lethal 500 hertz. The air around Einstein began to crackle, but he didn't stumble.
"You're trying to stop the rhythm of the world," Einstein said, his voice resonant and calm. "But the world has already changed. You can't suppress what is already free."
He reached out and touched the Suppression Rod. The metal didn't shatter; it simply went cold. The violet light died instantly as Einstein's body neutralized the charge. With a sharp, human twist of his wrist, he disarmed the soldier. No magic, no Sovereign strike—just a man who had mastered his own biology.
The Alley of Giants
The other Nullifiers lunged. Einstein moved with a terrifying economy of motion. He didn't waste energy on flashy kicks or power-blasts. He moved between them like water through a sieve, his white-light cells giving him a reaction speed that bordered on the precognitive.
He struck a soldier in the center of his armored chest. The blow wasn't heavy, but it carried a "New Human" vibration that bypassed the armor and momentarily stunned the man's nervous system. One by one, the elite soldiers of the Ethics Committee fell, not dead, but paralyzed by the sheer efficiency of Einstein's movements.
"Is that the best the Committee can do?" Einstein asked, standing among the fallen "Suppression Experts." "Sending machines to stop a heart that beats for the future?"
The Shadow of the Committeeman
From the rear of the unit, a man stepped out. He wasn't wearing armor. He wore a simple, tailored suit of grey wool. This was Director Vane, the head of the Global Ethics Committee.
"I expected the Nullifiers to fail," Vane said, his voice cold and academic. "They were a diagnostic test, Einstein. I needed to see how your new biology handles high-stress interference. You aren't a man anymore. You're a Biological Singularity. And a singularity cannot be allowed to roam free in a stable society."
Vane held up a small device—a remote trigger. "We have the London Plaza surrounded. Every charity you've funded, every hospital you've opened... they're all within range of a global Nullifier pulse. If you don't come with me, I will trigger a 'Universal Sleep.' Millions will simply stop breathing."
Einstein felt a surge of the old Sovereign fury, but he suppressed it. He looked at Felicity and Elara on the monitor screen. He looked at Vane.
"You think you can hold the world hostage because you're afraid of a future you can't control," Einstein said.
"I'm not afraid," Vane replied. "I'm the only one brave enough to pull the weeds before they choke the garden."
The Jacob's Gambit
Einstein didn't surrender. He didn't attack. He pulled his phone from his pocket—the one with the £45.50 balance—and tapped a single icon.
"I open-sourced the patents, Vane. Did you think I didn't open-source the Security?"
Suddenly, Vane's remote trigger began to glow blue. Across London—and across the globe—the Nullifier towers the Committee had secretly built didn't fire. Instead, they began to broadcast a new frequency—the Jacob-Resonance.
"The hospitals aren't shutting down," Einstein said, walking toward Vane. "They're becoming 'Dead Zones' for your suppression tech. Every person who has been treated with the new patents is now a walking dampener for your power. You didn't just bring soldiers to a fight, Vane. You brought a candle to a hurricane."
Vane stared at his dead trigger, his face turning a sickly shade of grey. "You... you planned this?"
"I lived as a delivery rider for five years," Einstein said, standing inches from the Director. "I learned that the best way to deliver a package is to make sure no one can intercept it. The world belongs to the people now. Not to a Committee. Not to a Chairman. And certainly not to a King."
Einstein looked at Rhea, who was standing ready. "Escort the Director to the local authorities. Tell them he was planning a mass casualty event. And Rhea... make sure he gets the 'Jacob Dividend' vaccine in prison. I want him to live a very, very long time to think about his mistakes."
The Aftermath
As the sirens faded, Einstein sat on the floor of the lab, his white-light cells slowly dimming back to their human state. He was exhausted.
Felicity ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. "Einstein, that was... that was insane. You could have been killed."
"I was never in danger, Felicity," Einstein whispered into her hair. "The world is the Seal now. As long as they're free, I'm safe."
But Elara, watching the screens from the sub-level, noticed something Einstein hadn't. Far away, in the dark corners of the deep web, a new signal was emerging—not from the Committee, and not from the Council. It was a digital ghost, a remnant of the Accountant's final code, and it was whispering a name.
The Heir of the Void.