In a sixty-story skyscraper, on the fifth floor, a man was sprinting up the stairs, his eyes wide with terror. "Urgent message for the chairman!" he cried.
Outside the room, his muffled, frantic voice tore through the wooden door, but the people inside barely registered it. They sat motionless on leather sofas, faces bathed in the faint glow of a dozen monitors, eyes fixed on CCTV feeds from deep within the Prime Technology Building, several blocks away.
Before anyone could respond, a thunderous roar exploded from outside. The blast rattled the skyscraper's foundations and the chandelier above swayed violently, the air thick with sudden tension.
Half the monitors sputtered into static while others went dark; those still live displayed a hellscape of twisted rebar, blooming flames, and choking clouds of gray concrete dust. Most of the Prime Technology Foundation had been reduced to ruin.
In the center of the sofa sat a burly, middle-aged man in a white suit. He unclenched his fists, and the wine glass he'd been holding fell with a dull thud against the carpet. He stood up, his gaze locking onto the flickering remains of the screens
Through the smoke on the CCTV monitors, he could see a lone figure moving with haunting precision, gunning down security thugs, his own men, colleagues on this very mission as if they were training dummies
Even through the haze of the flickering monitors, the chairman knew that silhouette. "That greedy bastard," he spat. His jaw tightened, but he instantly suppressed the rage, pivoting toward the door the moment it swung open.
Standing at the threshold with lungs burning, a man in black suit gasped for air. "Chairman... that hacker. He's gone rogue. The people on the lower floors are gone—everyone is dead. Communications are down, and the stairwells are flooding with toxic gas."
The chairman approached him, his footsteps heavy. He stopped inches from the man and placed a hand on his shoulder, his eyes cold and unblinking.
"You said you handled his background check personally before this operation, didn't you?"
"Yes, Chairman."
"Then care to remind me?" His voice dropped to a whisper, dangerously smooth. "What was your 'professional' assessment of him?"
The man swallowed, his hand shaking. "That he was a nobody... that he'd never drawn blood. I thought he wouldn't kill a fly, let alone a man, that he was just a computer expert. But—"
"And yet," the Chairman said quietly, "my staircase is full of corpses and toxic gas. Do you know the weight of your oversight? Do you know someone who could plan this would be a mere nobody."
"But, sir—the data about him—"
"Do you understand what that Vault represents?" the chairman's voice interjected. It was a tone that somehow filled the room with dread. "What it holds. The change it will unleash. The predators already circling our walls for a taste of what we are bleeding to steal."
He leaned closer. "Why am I even explaining—"
"Chairman, please—" the man's plea cut him short, but the chairman tightened his grip on the man's shoulder.
"But what?" he said. "Give me one reason I should keep you breathing."
"He... he planted explosives in the basement. A lot of them. We don't have much time—"
Before the man could finish, the chairman turned sharply. "Pack everything. Now. We're leaving."
Immediately, the room erupted into motion. Within minutes, several of them piled into the elevator behind him, clutching the operation's most valuable items.
At the same time, several buildings away, a lone figure stood on the edge of a fifty-story rooftop. In one hand, he held a tablet; his other hand danced across a computer he had set up. Several wires trailed across the ground to a heavy, one-and-a-half-meter vault several meters to his right.
A rectangular box sat nearby, filled with dozens of small devices, each with only two buttons. Behind him were more boxes of explosives—dozens of them.
Aris Seldon snapped open his flip phone and dialed, his eyes moving between the tablet's CCTV feed and the countdown of the explosives in the basement.
Inside the elevator, the chairman's phone rang. He reached into his chest pocket, pulled it out, and eyed the screen. "Unknown, huh," he thought. He answered anyway, already having an inkling of who was on the other end.
"Interesting choice, young man," the chairman said calmly. "Calling me instead of hiding."
Aris smiled slightly. "Getting into an elevator during a crisis?" he said lightly. "Not your finest decision, Chairman." His fingers danced across the keyboard. With one final keystroke, the elevator lurched and halted; the lights inside flickered, and the men behind the chairman stiffened in the sudden dimness.
"What do you want?" The chairman said.
"Good." Aris's gaze drifted to the sealed vault. "I like efficient men. They save time. I want nothing much, just the passcode—all eight digits. Give me the code to the vault, and everyone in that elevator walks away."
The chairman's eyes widened. Then, he let out a dry laugh, as if he were talking to a naive child. "Walk away?" He let the silence stretch for a moment. "Do I look seven to you, young man? Even if you let us out of this box, do you think the owners of that biochip would ever let us live?"
His voice was low and serious. "We're all owned by someone, boy. Maybe you'll survive a few hours longer than I will, but the moment you touch that chip, you'll understand exactly how small you are."
He paused. "You're far too daring, meddling with investments and time that belong to people you can't even imagine," then leaned closer to the phone. "So let a senior offer you some advice. Don't be greedy. Return it to me, and I might find a way to save your pathetic life."
Aris chuckled, eyes drifting to the skyscraper blocks away, locking onto the fifty-seventh floor. "Greed is foolish," he agreed, his gaze never leaving the building
"Good, now—" Before the chairman could finish, Aris interjected.
"Normally, that is." He looked toward the vault. "But when the prize is this good?" He shrugged, his eyes returning to the skyscraper. "Not being greedy is the real stupidity."
"Give me the digits. You know what I do. Locks slow me down, but they don't stop me. Eventually, the vault opens. I already have your fingerprints; that is another barrier down."
He let the weight of that settle. "And when it does open? You know its capabilities, right? So I advise you not to be too tough on yourself. You can betray them to save your life."
"You can try," the chairman replied, his voice devoid of hope. "But the code stays with me. If I don't die in this elevator, I'll die for losing the chip. There is no 'walking away' for people like us."
Aris stepped toward the box of devices and picked one up. His thumb hovered over the red button. "Last chance," he said. "Want to reconsider?"
"Go on, then." The chairman smirked directly at the camera. But contrary to his expectations, Aris didn't hesitate; he pressed his thumb down on the button.
BOOM!!!
A loud explosion tore through the city, shattering windows for blocks and illuminating the neon night sky. He grabbed another device and pressed again.
BOOM!!!!
A second explosion followed; the thunderous roar made the city feel as if caught in a quagmire of fire and glass. Several more followed in rapid succession, lighting the sky with bursts of golden fire until the night appeared like high noon.
One by one, the buildings surrounding the chairman's skyscraper collapsed. Aris reached for another device but paused. Pulling out his phone, he dialed one last time.
The chairman picked up.
"Can you hear it, Chairman? One last chance."
But the chairman didn't answer; he just hung up the phone. Seeing this, Aris lowered the device. "If that's how you want it, then so be it."
His thumb pressed down. A thunderous blast swallowed the skyscraper whole, starting from the ground up.
Below, the ground cracked open. The earth around several buildings caved in, forming a massive sinkhole that consumed everything in its vicinity.
Aris watched, his gaze hardening.
"It's worth it, he told himself. For every door that never opened. For every job I couldn't get because I didn't have the right name, the right degree, the right father. For all of them? Worth it."
With a determined gaze, he turned back to the computer still connected to the vault.
In the distance, sirens wailed. Screams rose from the chaos below, but Aris didn't flinch. Running would be pointless—the people who could create a biochip like this would track him anywhere.
His only escape lay within it. Crack the vault. Take the chip. Implant it before they arrive. Once inside him, he would control technology itself. No digital traces, no money trails, no documents—no CCTV could capture him.
He could disappear completely. Start over. Become someone new. Nothing would stop him. Perhaps he could even threaten the entire world.
Minutes later, as he hunched over the computer, helicopters swarmed the sky. Their searchlights cut through the smoke, blinding and relentless. Some scanned for survivors along the sinkhole's edges, but others searched with darker, more precise intentions.
Motionless at the edge of the roof, Aris looked like any other witness filming the chaos. An hour crawled by. Then, the computer gave a sharp, digital chime. He crossed the rooftop in three quick strides, his eyes locking onto the screen.
"3837648."
He burned the digits into his mind. Clutching the box of harvested prints, he turned and sprinted toward the vault, the roar of the helicopters now deafening above him.
His fingers trembled as he punched in the code. Three. Eight. Three. Seven. As the final digit clicked, he pressed the chairman's fingerprint to the sensor. The final lock clicked into place. Nothing dramatic happened; he simply grasped the handle and pulled.
A rush of cryogenic mist surged from the vault, chilling the air instantly. At the center of the light, a black triangular prism hovered in a void of magnetic force. Faint, circuit-like lines of energy pulsed across its matte surface, humming with a power that Aris could feel in his teeth.
"Fucking magnificent," he said in awe, but he didn't enter. He returned to the computer instead, fingers flying across the keyboard as he executed several commands. Once this was done, he began rigging around the vault with explosives, the wires snaking across the concrete like black vines.
Only after that did he step inside, without his life signature they would off within seconds. He burned his steady gaze on the triangular black box. Succeed or die. No middle ground. The owners of the biochip wouldn't allow anything else.
He stood inches from the triangular box, his hand reaching out—and then his phone shrieked. Aris froze. "Now?" He considered letting it ring out, but some instinct made him reach into his pocket.
"Hello?" he rasped, his eyes never leaving the floating triangle.
"Aris Seldon." The voice on the other end was calm. Too calm. It was the composure of someone watching from a vantage point Aris couldn't see.
"Son of a failed entrepreneur." Aris's jaw tightened. "High school dropout." His hand stilled on the box.
"Remarkable, really," the voice continued, smooth as silk. "Someone of your background... shaking the world like this."
Aris's eyes stayed on the chip. "Who are you?"
"I think you already know. So let's not waste time," the voice replied. "Bring me the chip. In return, I'll absolve your petty crimes. I'll even offer you work. Someone with your talent shouldn't be buried. That would be a pity."
Aris extended his left hand toward the box. "You think a few words can sway me?" He sounded almost bored. "Soon, I'll have the entire world by the throat."
"Don't be hasty, young man." The voice sharpened. "The chip won't save you, Aris. It will mark you. Every person with power will know your face, your name, your mother's maiden name... even the side of the pillow you like to sleep on."
Aris's eyes swept the pristine white walls of the vault. "Hidden cameras. Of course. My oversight."
"And I suppose you already know where I am," he muttered to the air. He dropped the phone to the floor but didn't crush it; he just let it fall.
"Trying to stall." He shook his head. "Who does he think I am?"
He placed his hand on the triangular box. The moment his skin touched the surface, the box dissolved into black nanites—countless microscopic particles that spilled across his hand like living ink.
They climbed over his arms, burrowing inward, consuming his form within seconds. From the phone on the floor, the voice continued, indifferent to the silence.
"You could have worked for us. Could have been someone. Now? Now you're just another corpse." There was a brief sigh. "Pity."
Aris couldn't turn toward the phone—he couldn't move at all. But his eyes found it anyway as the transformation surged upward, the nanites reaching his neck, their primary target for neural implantation.
The caller's words twisted in his gut like a physical blade. Then, the pristine white walls flashed a violent, pulsing red. The vault's door slammed shut with a deafening, final thud.
"Emergency override..." Aris deduced immediately. "This wasn't in the system core."
For a moment, his heart seized, dread washing over him, but he forced himself to stay still. He was already merging. He felt the nanites not as invaders, but as extensions of his own nerves. His skin tingled.
His vision flickered with lines of raw code; then, for one terrible, glorious moment, he could see the data streams of the vault pulsing around him. He could almost touch them but unfortunately, the walls flashed with an intense, blinding red and within moments, all the oxygen in the vault vanished.
Suffocation gripped him instantly. He gasped desperately, clawing at the thinning air, forcing the vacuum into his scorching lungs. Through the haze, a faint, acrid scent invaded his nostrils.
"Chemicals," he wheezed, his eyes bulging in dawning horror. "Poison gas."
His head darted around, his gaze landing on the tiny vents. Gas was seeping from the very openings he'd meticulously scouted—vents engineered to evade suspicion. He had been so careful, so confident.
"Damn it." His voice cracked, the poison already searing his lungs. "No wonder the chairman didn't beg."
His lungs seized, each breath a shallow, ragged hitch. His eyes burned, his vision swimming, but he could feel them, the nanites, still working, still driving the biochip into the base of his neck.
His knees buckled. For a second, he hung there in the red haze, then crumpled to the cold floor of the vault, and even as darkness took him, the nanites pressed on. They didn't know, and they didn't care.
Beyond the vault's supposedly impenetrable walls, the ring of explosives encircling it ticked down in Aris's absence.
[Ten. Nine. Eight. ]
As the numbers ticked down, two helicopters sliced over the building's edge, their rotors thundering as they maneuvered into position.
They never had the chance to stabilize. A cataclysmic roar shattered the rooftop. Blinding yellow fire bloomed outward, and glass from a hundred windows rained down to the ground like diamonds.
A compact mushroom cloud billowed toward the sky, its heat liquefying steel and stone.
The top ten floors buckled, imploding into a raging inferno. The vault—designed to withstand fire, blast, and even time—was reduced to molten slag. Caught in the updraft of the blast, the two remaining helicopters were swallowed by the fire, erupting into twin suns before they could even scream for help.
In a helicopter hovering at a safe distance, a man stared down. His knuckles were white against the door frame, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. His eyes blazed, reflecting the yellow ruins below.
"Fucking crazy," he cursed, his voice muffled by the thrum of the rotors. "Fucking stupid."
His words dissolved into the wind, unheard by the dead Aris—not that he would have cared. The manalready understood the consequences. Even if that triangular nanite box had somehow endured the blast, the chip within couldn't survive exposure to the air.
The vault had been its shelter, a perfect, climate-controlled womb. Now, only ash remained. It drifted over a city that would never know the magnificent future it had lost to the greed of one man.