After Elric issued the command, a voice responded—but this time, it sounded… different.
Aline's tone had shifted. It was no longer the cheerful, playfully sarcastic AI voice that sometimes filled his earpiece during downtime, lighthearted and almost human in its banter. No. Now it was cold. Measured. Almost chillingly human in its profound seriousness, a stark contrast to the sterile steel room.
"Sir, are you truly ready to begin the plan?"
Her voice echoed softly through the silent chamber, bouncing off emotionless walls lined with humming monitors, each one a silent witness.
"I must remind you again of the consequences. Your actions may lead to the deaths of millions. Countless more will be pushed below the poverty line. This could trigger a cascading effect—one that could collapse the economy of several vulnerable countries, destabilizing entire regions."
She paused, a calculated beat of silence, as if hesitating. But it wasn't due to human indecision. It was as though she were calculating the morality of his decision, weighing the immense ethical cost.
"People will be left starving. Entire families in war-torn regions will suffer unimaginable hardship. Just like... just like the one where you are living in. Just like where you still exist. Isn't that right, Sir?" Her voice, though synthetic, carried a strange, subtle weight, a hint of ancient suffering.
Elric's expression didn't change. It remained a mask of detached calm, impervious to the gravity of her words. He looked forward, one hand casually tucked in his pocket, the other still holding the last remnants of a half-drunk cup of cold coffee, forgotten and bitter.
"It's not that bad," he said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion, a dismissive wave of a hand. "Start it already."
But before Aline could act, before the complex algorithms could spin into motion, Elric raised a single finger, a silent command for a pause.
"Wait. Is everything prepared? I want full confirmation."
"Yes, Sir," she replied, her tone now sharp and immediate, every trace of moral query gone. "I have already completed a full behavioral and psychological analysis of General Ross. The simulation is precise and detailed. We can begin upon your final command."
Elric nodded slowly, a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture. His blue eyes glinted in the surveillance room's sterile, fluorescent light, reflecting the myriad screens.
"Then what are you waiting for?" he muttered, a hint of impatience coloring his voice. "F***ing start."
A quiet, almost imperceptible hum filled the room, a low thrum that vibrated through the floor.
Somewhere in the vast, data-streamed void of encrypted cyberspace, a single, innocuous-looking email was dispatched.
It was sent from an anonymous, untraceable account, a ghost in the machine.
The recipient?
Thomas Weller—the loyal second-in-command to the formidable General Thaddeus Ross.
Aline's voice rang out again, calm and methodical, confirming the unseen action.
"The message has been delivered. Encryption is optimal. Digital trail scrubbed clean."
Elric narrowed his eyes slightly, a flicker of skepticism crossing his face.
"We shouldn't run into any issues, right?"
He stepped closer to one of the humming screens, his gaze falling upon the email itself. It looked… simple. Too simple. Just a few lines of text. A single attached file. A set of coordinates. No emotional markers, no rhetorical flair, no grand signature that screamed 'Ross' to the casual observer. It looked almost random, a spam message.
"This doesn't feel personal at all," he said bluntly, his skepticism clear. "Are you sure this will work?"
Aline didn't hesitate. Her response was instant, backed by cold, hard data.
"Boss, the likelihood of success stands at 97.3%."
She continued, elaborating with meticulous detail. "After collecting both Thomas and General Ross's complete digital footprints—including private communications, subtle tone markers, distinct speech patterns, and their personal social networks—I've constructed a virtual personality model for both of them. This model is exceptionally accurate."
"This message may look basic to your perception," Aline explained, her voice gaining a pedagogical tone, "but for Thomas, it contains multiple personal cues. Subtle word choices. Signature phrasing that General Ross frequently uses. References only someone as close to Ross as Thomas, someone intimately familiar with his unique communication style, would recognize and find natural."
"These intricate elements are invisible to your eye, Sir. But for Thomas… they'll feel natural. Familiar. Utterly convincing."
Elric was silent, his gaze lingering on the message for a few more seconds, still clearly unconvinced despite Aline's detailed explanation. The inherent simplicity of the message seemed to grate against his complex plans.
"If you want," Aline added, sensing his hesitation, a faint, almost imperceptible persuasive note in her voice, "I can increase the match rate to 99.99%. Near-perfect mimicry. But for that, I'll need physical access to them. Cameras. Microphones. Live behavior tracking in real-time."
"With that data, I can build a complete 1:1 digital replica of them—down to voice tone, subtle eye movement, and their exact decision-making logic. They won't hold the real memories, of course, but the way they think… will be indistinguishable from the actual individuals."
Elric let out a quiet sigh, a sound of dismissive weariness.
"No need to go that far. I don't want to turn this into a pain." He waved a hand, dismissing the more complex, intrusive option.
He turned away from the screen, folding his arms across his chest.
"Just send it. If it doesn't work…"
He smiled faintly, a predatory glint in his eyes.
"A little illusion can go a long way."
There was a short, almost imperceptible pause, followed by Aline's final reply, imbued with confident certainty.
"Don't worry, Boss," she said, her voice smooth and unwavering. "It will most likely work."
And with that, the wheels of the next, devastating phase began turning—quietly, invisibly—through the wires of the world, a silent domino effect set in motion by a single email.