Excerpt:
Chapter 13: Ten Minutes, Too Many People to Save. Part 3
04:06 — 60.91% | Teleporter
We didn’t have time for simulations or rehearsals. There were too many people to save. So the first tests would be done on humans.
Even though I had extensive experience with teleportation machines, I usually built them under far more controlled circumstances.
At the moment, I was inside one of the city’s many hangars—one we had converted into an improvised laboratory for space launches. A group of robots, controlled by one of my countless AIs, monitored the transfer of civilians toward the machine, preparing to begin teleportation.
The device itself was crude, improvised, and poorly designed—but functional.
I watched in silence while thinking about the theory of space-time travel. There are many ways to tear the “fabric” of reality and cross the cosmos.
The most common—and also the most practical—was simply to take point B, your destination, pull it toward your current location (point A), move to B, and then disengage the anchor. A simple form of travel, used by most Rank 9 or 10 entities.
But it was also very obvious. Anyone with minimal spatial aptitude could detect it. Energy consumption also increased with distance. And Dinamo had already blocked that option.
Most methods were blocked.
We would do something different.
One of the countless alternative methods worked like this: At the quantum level, the universe behaves like a circuit board, with channels through which information can flow. Teleportation consisted of breaking individuals down into energy and passing them through one of these “wires” to the other side.
We would use a marginal channel—one that, for some reason, Dinamo hadn’t blocked. It wasn’t a brilliant plan. But it was the best we had.
This method consumed far less energy than the others, was viable in the short term, and relatively safe.
Why does this smell like a trap?
The thought crossed my mind as I watched the robots make final adjustments and position the people for the first jump.
“Proceed,” I ordered.
The machine vibrated briefly, humming with power. Reality fractured as the people were converted into energy. And in a flash, one hundred astronomical units were crossed.
“Teleportation successful,” the receiving computer reported.
“Next group.”
The best part of this process was that we could send people continuously, without rest.
Seriously? Is this what we’ve come to?
I couldn’t stop the melancholic thought. Having to use such extreme methods to “rescue” civilians.
Most of them will probably end up resenting this, or complaining that they never asked for it.
But I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Damage control could wait.
“Now I have to deal with those two.”
With all checks complete, I prepared to put an end to that irritating argument.
04:07 — 61.08% | Argument
The atmosphere was heavy. Despite the chaos outside the city and the apparent calm of the central dome, the office felt suffocating. Not because of the heat. Because of them.
“Are you going to keep using that tone with me, old woman?” León said, smiling with the confidence only the undefeated could afford. “You don’t have authority over me. You don’t even have the level.”
Dánica didn’t even blink. Her fingers gently caressed the golden handle of her parasol, as if weighing it.
“I don’t need authority to identify trash. The stench gives you away.”
León laughed—bright, loud, completely unrestrained. He adjusted his hair, which floated with that dramatic effect he himself programmed into his aura.
“Really? Sounds like jealousy to me. Want me to teach you how to shine again? We could have some fun—though it wouldn’t be fair to you. I was born perfect.”
I’m tired. The thought slipped out uncontrollably.
“That would explain why your brain seems stuck in beta phase,” Dánica murmured, tilting her head with funereal delicacy. “Perfection is usually an unfinished product. Like your maturity. Or your attitude.”
Eida tensed beside me. She said nothing, but I knew she was mentally compiling insults and rebuttals. She hated wasting time—almost as much as I did.
León began circling Dánica’s projection like a predator with an oversized ego. It was impressive they still had fuel for this. They’d already been at it for nearly three minutes.
“Want me to show you what happens when I actually take this seriously?”
“And what would you do?” Dánica replied, lowering her eyelids slightly. “Open a social network and cry for attention?”
That was enough. León was getting dangerous.
“Enough!” I cut in.
My voice wasn’t loud, but each syllable carried more energy than I could justify. They both fell silent—if only for a moment.
“Are you listening to yourselves? Do you realize what’s happening? We just lost a dome, and you’re acting like this is a badly organized birthday party.”
Eida stepped forward without waiting for my approval.
“You both have work to do. If you can’t respect the situation, you can leave this conversation right now. Director Katherine has a city to save. Your egos have no place here.”
León raised an amused eyebrow. “Getting tough, Eida. Is that how you treat all heartthrobs—or just me?”
“Only those who mistake a mirror for an altar,” she replied without blinking.
Dánica let out a brief laugh, hollow as an empty cathedral. “You should listen to her more often, León. Maybe she’ll manage to put some self-criticism into that empty head of yours.”
Look who’s talking.
I closed my eyes. Just for a second.
“And Dánica—your dome is the closest. I want you to send Rank 8 and 7 squads to rescue the evacuees.”
“Director Katherine! Director Katherine! I can send squads too! I can go personally to provide support!”
We all chose to ignore León, who was still waving his arm.
“Ranks 8 and 7? Wouldn’t it be better to send higher ranks?” Dánica asked.
“I understand your thinking. But even though Dinamo promised not to interfere, his forces will respond with equivalent strength to what we deploy. I hope you haven’t forgotten what happened last time. If we send only Rank 8s and 7s, casualties will be lower than if we deploy higher ranks.”
That was expected. Dinamo never responded with overwhelming force—not for something this mundane. Unless he was particularly bored.
“Understood, Director Katherine.”
“And you, León—I don’t want you intervening. Is that clear?”
“As you wish. Remember, you can look for me when you need me. I’ll be where I always am, Katherine.”
He didn’t look happy, but at least he was reasonable—for once. It was always hard to know what he was really thinking.
“Dismissed. I’ll contact you if I need anything else.”
I wanted to insist León come to the central dome, but it wasn’t worth tempting fate with his mood.
León bowed mockingly. Dánica vanished without another word. And finally, there was silence.
04:23 — 63.28% | Calm
The city was still. Calm began to settle in.
From the moment this mess started, I knew this calm was real. Not like the one before.
Only the orderly hum of systems and operators. The steady rhythm of digitization capsules. The miraculous stability of the teleporter.
Artificial peace—but peace nonetheless.
I allowed myself to breathe.
We’re still within the realm of possibility.
My secondary nodes confirmed evacuation rates stabilizing after the sabotage. Technical staff morale was recovering. Even speed was improving.
If we kept this pace, we could make it.
The numbers were still cruel. But no longer catastrophic.
Thank you.
I didn’t say it aloud. But I thought it—for them, for everyone, and for myself.
One of my AIs blinked softly and projected a small communication bubble.
“Director Katherine, all my sections are complete. All civilians evacuated successfully, including priority cases. No high-priority equipment remains.”
Ramiro’s voice was unmistakable—deep, warm, with that accent that dragged vowels like every word was part of a street song.
His face appeared on the visual feed, wearing a carefree smile. Sun-tanned skin, square jaw, lively dark eyes. Curly, slightly messy hair, and an expression suggesting he’d just told a joke—and didn’t need you to get it to laugh anyway.
His military uniform hung open to the chest. He was broad, pirate-like, the kind you only found in inked records of the past.
“I also took care of a couple of smartasses,” he added casually. “They took advantage of the situation to steal and wreck things. A bunch of vermin. They’re no longer in circulation.”
He shrugged, as if that hadn’t included authorized killings.
“I understand. Good work,” I replied. “They were expendable.”
“Don’t say that, boss. You’ll make me feel special,” he joked—though his eyes never stopped scanning his surroundings.
Ramiro Campillo. One of my best soldiers in this city. Extroverted. Mocking. But among the most reliable—at least in this expendable dome.
His mastery of bubbles was extraordinarily versatile for tactical support, in and out of combat. And he knew it. But he never bragged.
“I need you to support Irina and Rajiv. Most sections are complete. All that’s left is monitoring digitization and teleportation. There are hardly any civilians left outside the waiting areas.”
“Oh—and Ramiro.”
“Yes, boss?”
“This time, no improvising. I want efficiency, not spectacle. Follow their orders.”
He winked.
“Sure, sure. Just good Cuban efficiency. No magic—I promise.”
And he cut the connection with a crooked smile. Didn’t wait for further instructions. Typical.
Still, I knew he’d behave—for now.
And for a few more seconds, everything stayed calm.
05:43 — 78.39% | Everything Is Still Fine
Everything was still fine. Too fine, in my opinion.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. I just didn’t know what.
The capsules worked flawlessly. Digitization was miraculously efficient. The teleporter remained stable. And the Rank 10s rested, watched, or worked as if we weren’t on the brink of collapse.
The death index hovered between three and four percent—numbers any simulation would call acceptable at this scale.
No sabotage reports. No anomalies. Most evacuees were already waiting.
As I said—everything was fine.
For a moment, I allowed myself to relax. Not because I needed it—but because it wouldn’t hurt. Especially considering what was coming.
Less than five minutes left. If we keep this pace, it’ll be a full miracle.
We’d already used half the time, and I hoped to finish a minute early—at least enough to breathe.
With nothing urgent to do, I decided to look at the monster himself. I shifted my focus to the city center.
There he was—Dinamo. Still seated where I’d last seen him, posture impossible to read, relaxed and perfect. Beside him, the commentator robot he’d built—the theatrical, grand-voiced mannequin—kept reviewing past plays as if this were a tournament, trying to “entertain” the audience during this “break.”
But this time, they weren’t alone.
“What the hell…?”
I zoomed in. To his left stood a man, arms clasped behind his back, posture of a scholar at his lectern. Black hair tied back, dark blue robe with ink-like details, and an expression of genuine, almost childlike curiosity.
Jiang Shuren. Rank 9. Head of espionage and infiltration.
I immediately dispatched three drones to verify his identity and purpose. My nodes confirmed it in seconds—no illusion, no recognition error.
He was there. Talking to Dinamo. Conversing—calmly.
“Shuren,” I said neutrally as the channel opened.
He turned his head gently.
“Director Katherine,” he replied calmly, dipping his head slightly. “I didn’t expect to be discovered so quickly. My mistake, I suppose.”
“Care to explain what you’re doing next to humanity’s number-one enemy? Your answer had better be…
…"
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