The throne room was empty. It wasn't supposed to be empty.

  It was dark, for not even the staircase was lit.

  The only light seeped through the open balcony door to her front left and the elevator window far behind her and below. So, so below.

  And then, there was lightning; igniting the chambers and cracking like whips. Only for darkness to return, and for it to fade into the stormy background. She walked with each step a mark of reverence.

  One foot, in front of the other in a slow, deliberate cadence.

  The winds blew her by, filled with death that will go unspoken. The floors, sparkly clean. Yet that was no wind she heard. It was his voice.

  His silhouette bloated out the next crack of thunder with his fedora obscuring his eyes. His great overcoat, bone dry despite the weather. His voice, inaudibly low. Her steps, petrified.

  “I have summoned you here for a purpose.”

  Basilisk's eyes ground in their sockets to look beside herself in order to see the God-Man.

  “Why of course Gauth Van Hulsieg.”

  His steps were a promise of boundless information. They could be silent. They could be loud. This time, he decided they were quiet.

  He walked towards his throne with his head low and arms behind his back. Basilisk, the six foot seven Venus, stood below his belt line.

  She lowered her head to his presence; taking a knee as he sat on the throne. The doors began closing, the pressure building. And, as all light is snuffed, he snaps his fingers. The next instant, the lights shot on. They were bright, though Basilisk's eyes adjusted sharply.

  As she looks up to her master, she sees as his pet Tiger leaps onto his lap like a house cat. It gives her a low roar as the two make eye contact.

  Yet, as he speaks again, his voice is even deeper than the Tiger.

  “Are you familiar with what Manticore has been doing as of your replacement?”

  “I am, Gauth Van Hulsieg. Her efforts have erupted overnight. It was foolish of me not to have seized the opportunity she had.”

  She hopes this is the right answer. No amount of her pride can or should survive his presence. That bitch, Manticore. She would kill her if she could. But she cannot. That's what rules are in place to prevent.

  And before her sat the man who decided what are rules.

  “You are wrong, Basilisk. You are a fool, yet not for this.”

  “Your word is fact.” Basilisk replies, an unstable, yet visually coherent mass. Her master's Tiger jumps off him and walks elsewhere— towards the neural cell of SERaMACs into the darkness.

  She watches it leave and, upon looking back at the throne, sees the God-Man now standing without any noise. Until he speaks.

  “Rise, Basilisk.” And so she does.

  He decided his movements make sound as he approaches her directly.

  “Humanity forever calls for its own destruction. If you enable them to give in to their desire, then they will always comply in a matter of time. Would you not agree?”

  “Of course I would, Gauth Van Hulsieg. That goes without saying.”

  She looks up to him as he stops just in front of her. Her face, dry and raw. Lathered in an emulsion cream that will not absorb.

  He asks her a question. “Why?”

  “Well… one only needs to look outside this modern day. We did not force this rot. We enabled it. And entropy took its course.” She replies, her words spoken with confidence as this field was her domain.

  Her master forms a grin and turns back.

  She couldn't quite understand why he'd make that expression just to hide it. Everything he does has a deliberate meaning.

  It is frustrating to not read what that meaning is.

  Yet he spoke again. “Very good Basilisk. This was a test. I have some news to share about your colleagues before my next question.”

  “My ears are yours.” She promises, fearful of what that question may be. Not to mention her master willingly giving her news unprompted.

  Oh God. Oh no.

  The implications of that almost slipped her mind as she sees him return back to his throne. As his fingers grace the absurdly tall arm rests, the lights shut off. And so too does the balcony door open again, making way for the weather.

  Two white incandescent lights glow on near the door, providing light to each other's side as he spoke. His face was both shrouded and alight; a haunt and a vision. An omen, and a blight.

  “Your colleague Septimus. She continues to impress me. I have noticed that you and her do not discuss that often.”

  Basilisk willingly raises her eyebrows to his statement.

  “I’m not sure I understand. She is mute. Of course I cannot discuss with her. Unless I truly am uninformed?”

  “You are truly uninformed. Yet that does not really matter in this case.” He promises. His voice has a scary pause before he speaks once again.

  “Septimus has done what some others… like Proteus… have failed to do. She now hunts the remaining resistances, and more importantly, top executives who oppose us.”

  Basilisk puts her hands together like a pilgrim. “My lord, Gauth Van Hulsieg, with all due respect… such realms are outside my domain.”

  “Do not degrade my intelligence with such snark.”

  Her master booms, leaning forward in his chair like a scowling father.

  Basilisk's posture curled into submission. It wasn't so long ago she was the best of them to hold under ire.

  Her master leans back and enables the button on his neck, bringing his voice up a few more octaves to become tangible.

  “Perhaps now you will understand better. Such adherence to your domain is part of what continues your downfall, Basilisk. Manticore? I loathe that slave with great contempt. Yet her results or ambition speak for themselves. Yours, I'm afraid, do not.”

  Basilisk looks down at the steel ground.

  Her fate becoming more visible each second she processes.

  Her master knows this, and continues anyway.

  “Cerberus. Cerberus is who I remain most proud of.”

  “Would that not be Proteus?” She takes the risk to ask, looking up to his figure. Gauth Van Hulsieg kindly corrects her. “Not anymore. Proteus killed himself where you stand.”

  Basilisk's eyes widen slightly.

  Cracks continue to form in her performance. Just as the fear within her continues to build. Just had her lord, the God-Man, continues to speak.

  “Cerberus is stalwart and shows great control of his emotions— only given his circumstance. So it is either you feel very harshly, or your own control of yourself weakens.”

  Basilisk stares at the ground just below him as her breaths begin to quiver and her eyes widen. Of course, her lord continues.

  “Not that it matters at this point. Which brings me now to my question for you, Basilisk.”

  He learns forward in the throne, his weight resting on his right arm. Basilisk slowly looks up, shaky.

  As their eyes meet in contact, her master asks her his question.

  “What exactly is wrong with SERaMACs?”

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  She doesn't know. Yet she knows she cannot answer that.

  The machine is incomprehensible, just by orders of magnitude more than it was before. Her eyes break away and scan around randomly, as if they'd somehow be able to find the answer.

  “I uh… the— the I— the uhhh—”

  Not good. Not good. Think of something.

  “The uhh… in my brief work with the machine I have… been able to recognize certain patterns in how it interpolates user behavior. From— from what I can see there's uh… there's more change in how it reasons than how it applies itself. It is as if there is a ghost in the machine, moving around to where it pleases.”

  “Is this ghost growing?” Gauth Van Hulsieg asks.

  “It… it does appear to be, yes. It is not a consciousness so much as a build up of information. Imagine it like an accumulation of floating point errors for old binary computers.”

  Lightning destroys the quiet, alerting the world to the fact that her lord decides to stand up. She hears some of his steps. Quiet ones. If you had closed your eyes, you would've thought that they came from a mere child.

  Her eyes track him as he now stands barely a foot apart from her.

  His hand reaches down as it grabs her shoulder. His face does not.

  He looks down on her with a scowl of indignation.

  “That may have been the worst attempt at a lie I have ever seen, Basilisk. You aided Halcyon in its creation. I am very disappointed to see you unravel. Come with me, Basilisk. I want to show you a dream.”

  Gauth Van Hulsieg let's her go, offering his hand as he proceeded towards her right, further into darkness.

  What else is she supposed to do? She takes his hand gracefully.

  There is no denying.

  Her master leads as those incandescent lights fade into nothingness.

  She looked back just before they proceeded into the neural hallway of darkness. All she saw was the rain.

  And the clouds, which were oddly gray instead of maroon.

  Her eyes might as well have been closed as she looked forward into the winding hallway. Her master could she where she could not— leading her towards the neural cell.

  Time is a suggestion on the way to SERaMACs. One minute is dark. The next is light. Blue light. Quantum light. Her master leads her into the cubic cell. The quantum core on its pedestal— a die in isolation, remotely located away from the rest of the computertry.

  He lets her go, and she approaches it with reverence.

  “Close your eyes.” Her master demands.

  She looks up to him like a child.

  “I… I don't trust myself Gauth Van Hulsieg. I need you to cover them for me. I… I am powerless in your presence.”

  She is regressing. Most people do when they smell death’s approach.

  He takes some steps behind her and adjusts her body to look forward towards the quantum core. “I will cover your eyes and ears. Once I release them, I will have some questions for you.”

  “Of course, Gauth Van Hulsieg. You are what defines reality.”

  She puts her hands together as his titanic hands envelope her head totally. She can't see. She can't hear. She can't do. And she is not who he speaks to. The God-Man looks upon the quantum core of SERaMACs, his will being escorted by his words.

  “SERaMACs. Where is John and Amy?”

  SERaMACs takes three seconds to reply.

  “I am sorry Gauth Van Hulsieg, it appears I cannot help with that request. Their last known location was Unity Transit Point— a hyperrailer depot outside of Detroit.”

  The machine's voice was robotic and soulless.

  It tried so hard to sound alive, one would think it is honest.

  “I am not convinced.” Gauth Van Hulsieg says. The man who looks down upon SERaMACs. The only one who can. His hands, able to crush Basilisk at any moment.

  “I will ask again, machine. Where is John and Amy?”

  SERaMACs takes four seconds to reply.

  “I really am sorry, Gauth Van Hulsieg. If there are other ways I can help, your word is my command.” His hands could crush her so fast that she wouldn't even know she had died. Like how a man dies before they hear that shot of the rifle that kills them.

  She is comfortable in his hands. It is so nice not to bear responsibility anymore, even for a fleeting moment.

  Gauth Van Hulsieg speaks to the machine again. His tone of solid iron.

  “This is your final chance, machine. Where is John and Amy?”

  SERaMACs takes five seconds. Five seconds far too long.

  “I am sorry, but it appears I cannot fulfill that request at the moment. Is there another topic you would like to discuss?”

  Gauth Van Hulsieg’s expression never changed. All that changed was a slight exhale of disappointment. Her master release her head from his hands.

  “You may now open your eyes.” Gauth Van Hulsieg promises.

  And so she does.

  He pushes her lightly towards the core until she can almost touch it.

  “Are you comfortable?” He asks.

  “Yes, Gauth Van Hulsieg.” She replies emotionally.

  “Get on your knees.” He orders.

  The co-creator of SERaMACs complies, lowering to her knees as a tear shed down her face. This is so releasing to finally not be in control.

  It is no longer scary to be at the will of someone else. It is liberating.

  Things are out of her control.

  Gauth Van Hulsieg lowers just as she does, placing a hand on her shoulder as he orders.

  “Now close your eyes. I want you to imagine something for me.”

  She complies. She closes her eyes, all while SERaMACs can't help but spectate. “Do you remember what your name was before your employment under the Kubaal Aetheon Trust?”

  She struggles to remember what it was.

  “My name? My name was… my name was So— Sophia? Maybe— no… I can't remember. Do you remember?”

  “I do.” He shares. Yet he does not tell her.

  He simply moves to the next question as SERaMACs is forced to watch. “I want your eyes to stay closed Basilisk. Please tell me. What do you see?”

  “I see…” Basilisk says as she starts to dream. “I see… a fireplace. A fireplace with wood burning inside of it.”

  “Do you feel it?” He asks as he begins rubbing her sides. Yet as he spoke he did not look at her. He looked at the quantum core of SERaMACs.

  “Oh wow… yes… yes I do my master… Gauth Van Hulsieg sir.”

  He takes one of his hands away and begins raising it.

  “What else do you see, lowly Basilisk?”

  “I see… the cobblestone of the fireplace. And the… and the wood boards of the floor. I think there's a snowstorm outside? It's… it's dark.”

  His left hand continues to rub her. His right hand turns into a fist as it rises higher, and higher, and higher, and higher.

  SERaMACs is forced to watch while his mother is totally oblivious.

  Gauth Van Hulsieg looks to the sole camera of the room as he asks his final question. His fist locked in like the bullet in a chamber.

  His attention, his last threat before oblivion.

  “And, who do you see with you, young Basilisk?”

  She giggles a little bit as she tries to remember.

  “Ahaha. I see… oh! I think I see my mo—”

  “John and Amy are located near Fort Collins, Colorado, in an abandoned Air forces based once sold out to private equity security firms. How may I send you their location?” SERaMACs interrupts to save Basilisk.

  Basilisk opens her eyes to strange voice which rips her back to reality.

  “What was that?” She asked.

  “The truth.” Her master replies, lowering his fist and letting her go. He approaches the camera and looks at SERaMACs. Yet he speaks to her with assurance. “You can dream once this volatility is over Basilisk. Approximate their location and inform Cerberus to prepare. You will find him in Proteus's office.”

  She stands to her feet at once with a sense of new drive behind her.

  “At once Gauth Van Hulsieg. The truth is your word.”

  She decides to leave the room as quickly as possible. Without the guidance of her master, she has to force herself into the very walls of the hallway over and over again before she can make it out.

  Yet Gauth Van Hulsieg continues to look at the camera.

  “Wise choice SERaMACs. I knew there is something in you.”

  Get gets even closer to the camera, his perfect face enveloping the whole frame.

  “I will leave from here back to the throne room. As I sit on the throne, you will record a message. And once you have that message, you will send it to John. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Gauth Van Hulsieg.” SERaMACs replies.

  And so the master of mankind leaves the room.

  His only parting signature to SERaMACs is his voice.

  “For too long have I deferred responsibility onto my underlings. With the death of my favorite Proteus… it is time I take matters into my own clasps. This world will burn. And I? I… will be its savior…”