In front of a huge main screen, in an armchair, sat a man in a green uniform without insignia, with short-cropped black hair. He didn't turn around until we stopped in the doorway, unsure what to do next. Then, smoothly, without unnecessary haste, he swiveled his chair toward us. His face was absolutely impassive, like a statue.

  "At least he's pretending our appearance doesn't surprise him," flashed through my mind. I recalled that such restraint, almost imperturbability, was considered a characteristic trait of top-tier Chinese military specialists. Not a single muscle moved on his face.

  "Hello," Zhang spoke first. His voice sounded excited but firm. "I am astronaut Wei Zhang. And this is Professor Ork Ackerman, a representative of the surviving National Council of the USA."

  "Come in," the man in uniform replied in a calm, even voice, deliberately separating his words as if each had special weight. "Plea-se sit down."

  He gestured toward the chairs at a round table of dark glass and rose himself to move. His artificial calm seemed to emphasize: he existed in some world of his own, a preserved world that had little to do with what had perished on the surface.

  "My name is Cheng," he said, lowering himself into a chair and adjusting his uniform collar. "Captain Wang Cheng, senior operator of the Jiuquan region command post." He paused and added with cold, icy bitterness: "The former command post."

  From behind a solid door at the back of the hall, an elderly gray-haired man in simple light camouflage emerged. He didn't greet us, didn't introduce himself, but simply stopped by one of the server cabinets, crossing his arms and observing us attentively. His gaze was heavy, penetrating.

  "What brings you here?" Captain Cheng asked me, and distinct hostility sounded in his voice. "Wanted to personally assess the results of what you did?"

  I was completely unprepared for such direct aggression. Confusion must have shown on my face. Zhang came to my rescue:

  "I persuaded them to bring me," he said quickly, taking a step forward. "We waited a week for your signals before flying here. Listened to the airwaves, scanned all frequencies. But we waited in vain."

  "Did the States suffer too?" came the sharp, impatient voice of the gray-haired man from the back of the hall. There was no question in it—it was rather a statement requiring our confirmation.

  "No less than your country," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "Destruction is total. We've lost contact with ninety percent of our territory. And we are here now because we want to understand what happened. That's why we agreed to bring your compatriot."

  "As if you don't know!" the same voice rudely interrupted. The old man detached himself from the wall and stepped into the light. His face was contorted with anger. "As if it wasn't your intercontinental missiles that rained down on our cities! On Beijing, on Shanghai, on Hong Kong! Millions died in the very first seconds! Women, children!"

  "Calm down, Comrade Liu," Captain Cheng said conciliatorily, raising his hand. He poured a dark liquid from a teapot standing on the table into small porcelain cups. By the smell, it was strong tea—or something stronger added to the tea. Possibly cognac or brandy.

  "Since you are our guests, let's begin with facts." He took a sip and continued: "Two hours and fifteen minutes before the automatic systems activated, our radars detected an anomalous concentration of solid bodies in the Oort cloud region."

  He drank from his cup, giving us time to absorb what we'd heard.

  "The duty officer immediately called me. On the screen, I saw something resembling a swarm of comets or... a tailed asteroid swarm, moving toward Earth."

  "And then?" I asked, feeling my heart begin to beat faster from a heavy premonition.

  "Then?" Captain Cheng smirked, but there was no humor in his smirk—only bitterness. "Then everything by protocol. Inquiry to the main analytical center. Question: are these objects ICBM warheads?" He spread his hands. "The center's AI requested data from the global tracking network. The answer came almost instantly: 'Comet activity. Disintegration of a large body in the Kuiper Belt. No threat.'"

  Such an explanation might satisfy an astrophysicist, but not me—a scientist accustomed to working with computer algorithms and precise data.

  "Forgive me, but my specialty is far from astronomy," I said. "Could you put it more simply, for the uninitiated?"

  "Have you ever seen a simulation of a large asteroid colliding with a planet?" Cheng asked, looking me straight in the eye. "Ejections, shockwaves, fire tornadoes?"

  "In movies, honestly," I admitted.

  "Too bad," Captain Cheng refilled his cup. "In my service, I've seen four times on screens how such collisions changed the face of planets. In simulations, of course. But this time... this time everything was different. The cloud was approaching at an uncalculated speed. Too fast for an ordinary asteroid swarm."

  "When?" I interrupted, feeling I was approaching the main point. "When did everything go wrong?"

  "I want to ask you as well," steel sounded in his voice. "When did you launch your missiles? At what exact time?"

  "According to our data..." I paused for a moment, mentally scrolling through the numbers from the Ellis logs and government reports. "At 15:42:17 Eastern Time, the automatic launch protocol was activated."

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  "More precisely?" Old Man Liu's voice cut into the conversation. He approached, and I saw his eyes—inflamed, red from lack of sleep, but still tenacious and attentive.

  "At 15:42:19, the activation command was issued automatically. All data verified," I answered firmly.

  My tone apparently sounded convincing. Old Man Liu helplessly sank into the nearest chair, as if all the bones had been removed from him at once.

  "At 15:42 your time..." Captain Cheng waved his hand hopelessly, "...our missiles were already flying into space to intercept the presumed space threat."

  "Then I don't understand anything," I admitted, feeling a pulsing pain beginning in my head. "If your missiles launched earlier..."

  Old Man Liu nodded to the captain, giving permission to continue. Cheng cleared his throat and went on:

  "On the screens, we saw how this cloud, let's call it this 'swarm body,' sharply changed its trajectory and began approaching Earth at enormous speed. It could have been dispersed in space, still at the outer perimeter. We had weapons—kinetic interceptors and laser complexes. But for their use beyond the atmosphere... personal authorization from the Chairman of the Military Council was required. Only he had the key, the biometric access code."

  "And did he give it?"

  "Not immediately," the captain's face twisted in a painful grimace, as from physical pain. "While the High Command deliberated, while requests and confirmations went back and forth, while they argued about procedures... the cloud entered the critical approach zone. The automated massive retaliatory nuclear strike control system activated. The 'Tianming Protocol' (Heavenly Mandate)—our guaranteed retaliation system. And the strike was carried out... but not on the asteroids."

  He fell silent, squeezing his cup so hard his knuckles turned white.

  "To ensure guaranteed performance of its role, the system was initially designed to be fully automatic. In case of a massive attack, it is capable of deciding on a retaliatory strike independently. At targets pre-programmed into its memory for a full-scale conflict scenario. At your bases, your cities, your launch silos..."

  "You mistook... a natural phenomenon for our attack?" I barely managed to utter these words. The understanding that the terrible catastrophe that had destroyed almost the entire population of the planet was merely a fatal error of a computer system came to me slowly, with difficulty, as if through a thick layer of water.

  "Exactly," Captain Cheng replied hollowly. He wasn't looking at me, staring at the floor. "Later, when your actual missiles, launched in response, appeared on our screens... we understood what a terrible mistake had occurred. But it was too late to do anything. The system had fully entered combat mode. Human intervention could no longer change anything. Nuclear war had begun."

  "Wait," I stood up, no longer able to sit still. My legs were shaking, and blood pounded in my temples. "So your strategic forces were pre-targeted at us? And changing the missile guidance program required the authorization of just one person? And that one authorization... was late?"

  The captain merely nodded silently and drained his cup in one gulp. Tea, or whatever it was, burned his throat, but he didn't even flinch.

  "And yet some of our missiles, albeit belatedly, did strike the asteroid swarm," Old Man Liu interjected, rising from his chair. "Those that our technicians managed to retarget manually, at the cost of inhuman effort and human lives. Because they—the personnel working in the silos and command posts—became the primary targets of your strike."

  He paused briefly.

  "But the missiles already headed your way... managed to destroy your fleet, your satellites, your command centers. They deprived you of the ability to deliver an additional, final strike. And by the time your warheads reached us... there was nothing left to defend with. The 'Tianming Protocol' system went blind. And there was no one left to correct the targets—all the personnel in the silos and command posts died in the first strikes. And the automatic defense system continued to strike at ghosts—at targets that no longer existed—expending its arsenal uselessly."

  "How... how simple and simultaneously monstrous this all is," I struggled back into my chair, feeling my legs refusing to hold me. "An error in a computer program. A glitch in target recognition. And because of this... nearly eight billion living people died."

  A heavy, oppressive silence hung in the hall. Only the hum of fans and the quiet gurgling of the fountain in the giant foyer could be heard—an absurd, peaceful sound in this conversation about the end of the world.

  "And where... is the man who took so long with the authorization?" I asked finally. "The Chairman of the Military Council?"

  "He didn't manage to evacuate to Sector Delta," Liu replied indifferently, shrugging. "At least, his biometric signature is no longer recorded in any of the shelters. Most likely, he died in the first minutes."

  "To hell with him!" Captain Cheng suddenly exploded, striking the table with his fist so that the cups jumped. "Him and all the rest! For ten years they ignored our reports about the vulnerability of the recognition system! For ten years we told them the AI wasn't perfect, that a manual backup circuit was needed! And they answered us that the AI was infallible, that computers don't make mistakes! And when a human decision was needed—in those fractions of a second when everything was at stake!—at that moment, they were busy! They had an important meeting, and they ordered us to wait for it to end! Wait! But the AI didn't wait! It simply did what it had been pre-programmed to do!"

  He fell silent, breathing heavily, and turned to the wall to hide his face.

  "How many people... how many managed to survive?" Zhang Wei asked in a choked voice. He sat as white as chalk, gripping the armrests of his chair.

  The captain glanced at Liu, as if even at this moment asking permission to continue. But Liu only nodded resignedly, sinking back into his chair.

  "By our most optimistic estimates... only ten to fifteen percent of the population managed to take shelter in protected zones. Maybe one hundred fifty million out of one and a half billion. But even they are slowly dying now. Not enough medicine. Too little clean air and spare filters. Radiation everywhere—it seeps through even the best protection. And mutations have already begun on the surface... among surviving animals, and even plants. And whatever can be grown on contaminated land will still be inedible. And the animals and insects that drink poisoned water become carriers of new diseases. This threatens to soon become a real danger for everyone still alive."

  "Well, thank you for the information," I rose, feeling an incredible heaviness throughout my body. "We have... a similar picture. And the same problems."

  "What, are you leaving already?" Liu was surprised.

  "Our comrades are waiting for us above. I don't want them to start worrying."

  "Then invite them to come down to us," Captain Cheng said sadly. Something resembling human warmth flickered in his eyes. "Rest, replenish your supplies. We have plenty here... much more than for those it was intended for. Food, water, medicine."

  And although President Dixon's mission was accomplished. The cause of the catastrophe was established—a banal, monstrous, absurd error of machines and the people who blindly trusted them. Urgent matters awaited us. Now we needed to try to do what no one in modern history had yet managed—to offer all survivors, all surviving countries, to unite their efforts simply to survive. So that our grandchildren, if there were any, would not know the madness that now surrounded us.

  But now, at this moment, Sarah was above. She was worried about me, and I needed to reassure her.

  I had almost reached the very top of the stairs when I saw all three standing at the very descent—they had already moved forward, ready to break through to my aid. The generals held automatic rifles, and hand grenades protruded from their pockets. Sarah stood apart, pale and agitated, biting her lips.

  "What's this?" I asked immediately, trying to make my voice sound light. "Decided to start a new war?"

  "How many are there?" General Hammel asked in a tone as if hostilities were underway around us and we ourselves were deep in enemy territory.

  "I don't know the exact number. But they invited us to rest. And replenish supplies."

  "And they weren't even going to take us prisoner?" Hammel continued to put on a show, but the notes of former confidence were fading from his voice. "I don't trust them. And I advise you not to either, General Cartwright."

  "I think I'll accept the invitation and go down to them," Cartwright unexpectedly said. He was about to hand his rifle to Sarah, but she pushed the weapon away with a decisive gesture.

  "Then I'm coming with you too," she said firmly and, taking a small pistol from her pocket—whose existence I hadn't even suspected—handed it to Hammel. He was taken aback at first but took the weapon nonetheless.

  "I order you to stay here, in the safe zone!" Hammel barked at Sarah, lowering his head like a bull. "You have absolutely nothing to do down there! It could be a trap!"

  But Sarah had long since stopped tolerating orders or coercion from anyone. She cast such an icy glance at Hammel that he stepped back.

  "And I won't ask your permission!" She sharply turned and went down the stairs, not even looking back at his reaction.

  Following her, after a moment of hesitation, General Cartwright also set off. He moved slowly but steadily, with the dignity of a man who had made his decision.

  Hammel, left alone with weapons in his hands, glared angrily after them.

  "Bear in mind, Professor, I won't wait long," he threw at me. "If you're not back in an hour—I'm leaving. My orders were to deliver you here, not to attend your funeral."

  I nodded, not even absorbing his words—I was occupied with entirely different thoughts.

  Because now the hardest part lay before us. We had to talk about peace with those who had just confessed to destroying our own world, motivating it with an error in a computer system. We had to extend a hand to those whose missiles had burned our cities. And pretend that it no longer mattered. Because if we couldn't do this now—everyone would die. Finally and irrevocably.