Jason entered Richard's study with Elaine, Lily, and Marissa following close behind. They moved as one unit, shoulders aligned, a united front against whatever came next. Richard stood near his workstation, his posture unusually open, hands at his sides rather than crossed defensively over his chest.
The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension as they took their seats across from him. Elaine's jaw was set tight, her fingers interlaced to hide their trembling. Lily's eyes darted between her father and Jason, while Marissa sat with analytical stillness, missing nothing.
Jason settled into the chair directly opposite Richard, his face a careful mask hiding the storm beneath.
"I imagine you all slept poorly," Richard said, breaking the silence. "Yesterday's revelations were... difficult."
"That's one word for it," Elaine muttered.
Richard nodded, accepting the barb. "We're here to discuss Jason's mission—what it entails, the risks, and how we prepare." He looked directly at Jason. "This isn't a command. It's a necessity if we ever want to leave this bunker safely."
"Then let's get to it," Jason replied, his voice steady despite the churning in his stomach. "No more secrets."
Richard moved to his terminal, bringing up molecular diagrams that glowed blue in the dim light.
"The nanovirus will cause a fever—likely around 102 to 104 degrees Fahrenheit(39-40 Celsius)—and significant muscle pain for approximately twelve hours," he explained, his tone clinically detached. "This is the integration phase. The nanites will map your nervous system, reinforce cellular structures, and establish their reproductive cycle."
"Reproductive cycle?" Marissa interrupted, leaning forward.
"They're designed to replicate with your cells, becoming part of your biology," Richard clarified. "In our animal testing, we saw rapid healing of induced injuries, elimination of cancerous cells, and enhanced neural connectivity."
"And the failures?" Jason asked bluntly. "What happened in the tests that didn't work?"
Richard's expression tightened. "Organ rejection. Systemic inflammation. In two cases, neural degradation."
Elaine made a small, pained sound. "And you want to inject this into our son?"
"It has been refined it extensively," Richard insisted. "The current version is stable, but—" he hesitated, "—there are always unknowns with technology this advanced."
"So you're saying he could die," Lily stated flatly.
Richard didn't flinch from her gaze. "It's possible. But without it, his chances outside are significantly worse."
Nobody had a response, so they maintained their silence. The weight of Richard's admission hung in the air between them, making the bunker's recycled air feel suddenly thinner. The silence stretched uncomfortably, broken only by the soft hum of the ventilation system that had become the constant soundtrack to their underground existence.
Richard switched the display to show a building schematic.
"The lab is located twenty miles northeast, in what was the Meridian Research Park," he explained, highlighting sections of the map. "The facility has multiple security layers—biometric, keycard, and code access. If systems are still operational and the building is locked down, you can use my access card." He slid a small black card across the table.
Jason picked it up, turning it over in his hands.
"Once inside, you'll need to reach the central server room," Richard continued, zooming in on the building's core. "The AI replacement requires physical access to A.M.O.N.'s primary nodes. You'll connect our new AI directly to the mainframe and initiate the override sequence."
"What if the building is damaged?" Marissa asked. "Or if there are... people there?"
Richard's face darkened. "The structure is reinforced concrete with backup generators. As for people—" he paused, "—if the building is locked down because of the emergency sequence, it's unlikely anyone inside could survive that long."
Jason studied the schematics, memorizing routes and access points. The reality of what he was agreeing to settled on his shoulders—heavy, undeniable. For a brief moment, doubt flickered across his face.
"How long will I have once I'm inside?" he asked, pushing through his uncertainty.
"The upload will take approximately seventeen minutes," Richard answered. "The danger isn't time—it's what might be waiting for you out there."
Richard moved toward the iron door that had always remained locked, placing his palm on a hidden scanner. With a pneumatic hiss, the door slid open, revealing a small server room humming with activity.
"This is the core of the rewritten AI system," he explained, gesturing to the blinking arrays. "Completely offline. No external connections, no satellite links…at least not from here."
He removed a sleek black watch from a secure case, holding it up for them to see.
"And this—" he continued, turning the device in his hand, "—is how you'll interface with the AI during the mission."
The watch looked ordinary at first glance, but as Richard turned it over, Jason saw the complex display beneath its face.
"A compact version of the AI runs directly on this unit," Richard said with unmistakable pride. "It functions independently while you're inside the bunker. But once you step outside, it will automatically connect to the orbital relay satellite we launched before the Collapse."
Marissa leaned forward. "So it's dormant until he's outside?"
"Correct, Jason will be connected to the server inside the bunker until he gets out." Richard replied. "The satellite is still in orbit, operational, and was designed for A.M.O.N. use, but should now be on standby. Once the connection is established, the watch taps into its expanded processing power, dramatically expanding the AI's capabilities and allowing continuous oversight during the mission."
Lily tilted her head. "Will Jason be able to talk to it?"
"Yes," Richard nodded. "Not just basic commands. The AI will respond conversationally; advise, calculate, adapt. It won't just be a tool, it'll be a partner."
"And I'll be able to contact you?" Jason asked.
Richard shook his head. "Not yet. This system wasn't designed for two-way communication with the bunker. For now, the AI is your companion and guide—not a radio. But with time… who knows what we might rebuild."
"Military-grade quantum processing in a wearable form," Richard proudly continued his statement. "It provides real-time biometric monitoring, and can scan your surroundings for threats."
Marissa asked curiously, "What's its range? And battery life?"
"Unlimited range within satellite coverage," Richard replied. "The battery is self-charging through kinetic energy—your movement powers it."
Lily whistled softly. "That's... impressive."
Richard handed the watch to Jason, who felt its surprising weight as he strapped it to his wrist. The screen illuminated at his touch, displaying his heartbeat, oxygen levels, and a detailed map of their location.
"This is what will keep you connected to AI," Richard said quietly. "And guide you to your mission and then back home."
Richard's posture changed subtly, his shoulders dropping as he moved away from the technology and faced his family directly.
"I know I've failed you," he said, his voice lower than before. "Not just yesterday, but for years. I became so focused on protecting you that I forgot how to be with you."
Elaine's expression remained guarded, but she didn't look away.
"I can't undo what I've done," Richard continued. "I can't bring back the world we lost. But I can try to make amends by seeing us through this—by giving us a chance at something beyond mere survival."
Jason watched his father carefully, searching for the calculated manipulation he'd come to expect. Instead, he saw something unfamiliar—vulnerability, perhaps even regret.
"You kept secrets that weren't yours to keep," Jason said evenly. "You made decisions for all of us without our consent."
Richard nodded. "Yes. I did. And I was wrong."
The admission hung in the air, unexpected and transformative. The atmosphere in the room shifted, not toward forgiveness exactly, but toward something adjacent to understanding.
"I don't expect your trust," Richard added quietly. "I hope to earn it back through actions, not words."
Jason gave a simple nod, acknowledging his father's words, but remaining cautious. It would take more than words to heal the breach of trust between them. The true test would be in Richard's actions going forward.
"Let's talk about preparation," Jason said, redirecting the conversation. "I need to prepare well after the injection"
Richard nodded, seemingly grateful for the shift. "We should focus on physical conditioning—increasing your stamina and strength as much as possible before the mission. And of course, you'll have to get accustomed to the changes the nanovirus will bring."
"Cardio and resistance training," Marissa suggested. "I can help with that."
Elaine leaned forward. "Mental preparation is just as important. Meditation techniques for stress management, scenario planning."
"And you'll need practical skills," Lily added. "Basic first aid, navigation without technology as backup."
As they spoke, a training regimen took shape—morning physical conditioning with Marissa, afternoon technical briefings with Richard, evening survival skills with Lily, and mental preparation with Elaine throughout.
"We'll schedule the nanovirus injection for the evening three days later," Richard concluded. "This gives you time to prepare yourself both psychologically and physically."
Jason nodded, feeling both the weight and purpose of the plan. "Three days," he repeated. "Then we find out if this works."
"It has to," Lily said softly.
The meeting concluded with a new sense of shared mission, the family rising from their seats with determined expressions.
———————❖———————
Later that day, Jason found Elaine alone in the kitchen, methodically chopping vegetables for dinner. Her movements were precise but distracted, her mind clearly elsewhere.
"Need help?" he asked, stepping beside her.
She handed him a knife without looking up. "You can start on the onions."
They worked in silence for several minutes before Elaine set her knife down, her hands trembling slightly.
"I can't lose you," she whispered. "Not after everything we've found together."
Jason placed his hand over hers. "You won't. I'm coming back."
"You don't know that." Her voice cracked. "Richard's experiments, that world out there... either one could take you from us."
He turned her gently to face him. "Mom, look at me. I'm scared too. But this is our chance—maybe our only one—to have a future beyond these walls."
Elaine pressed her forehead against his chest. "Just promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you'll remember you have something to come back to."
"I promise," he said, holding her close.
———————❖———————
He found Lily in the cinema room, staring at a blank screen. She smiled when he entered, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"Picking a movie?" he asked.
"Just thinking." She leaned into him as he sat beside her. "I was trying to imagine what the world looks like now."
Jason wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "We'll find out together."
"I'm trying to be brave about all this," she admitted. "But I keep thinking about what happens if something goes wrong."
"That's not being brave," he said softly. "Being brave is feeling scared and doing it anyway."
Lily nodded against his shoulder. "Then I guess we're both being brave."
———————❖———————
Marissa found Jason in the storage room as he took inventory of the supplies for his mission, giving him a moment to clear his mind before he went to see her. She lingered in the doorway, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her shirt, her body language speaking volumes of her hesitation.
"Got a minute?" she asked.
Jason set down his clipboard. "For you? Always."
She closed the door behind her, approaching with determined steps that contrasted with her nervous expression.
"I've been thinking about the everything," she began. "About what could happen."
"I know it's risky—"
"No," she interrupted. "I mean, yes, it is. But that's not..." She took a deep breath. "Before you take it, before everything changes, I want us to be together. Just us. Completely."
Jason studied her face. "Marissa, are you sure? We don't have to rush anything."
"I'm sure," she said firmly. "I've been holding back part of myself. With my history, with men... it's been hard to trust completely." Her eyes met his. "But if something happens to you, I don't want to regret not having given all of myself when I had the chance."
He took her hands in his. "Tomorrow night? Your room?"
She nodded, a small smile breaking through her serious expression. "Tomorrow night."
As she left, her steps lighter than when she'd arrived, Jason watched her go, feeling both the honor of her trust and the weight of what it meant.
———————❖———————
That night, Jason sat at his desk, paper spread before him, pen in hand. The small lamp cast a warm glow over three blank pages, each representing a woman he loved differently yet completely.
He started with Lily's letter, the words flowing easiest for the sister who'd first shown him love beyond family bonds. He wrote of childhood memories, of her laughter, of the future he still believed they could have.
Elaine's letter came next, more complex, filled with gratitude for her strength and understanding. He acknowledged their unconventional relationship without apology, expressing how she'd taught him to love without boundaries.
Marissa's letter proved most difficult. Their connection was newest, still evolving, yet somehow fundamental. He wrote of her courage, her intelligence, her journey toward trust.
Each letter ended the same way: a promise to return, but also permission to move forward if he couldn't.
When finished, he sealed each in an envelope, writing their names in careful letters, then tucked them into his desk drawer—insurance against a future he fought to prevent.
———————❖———————
In his laboratory, Richard hunched over a terminal, lines of code reflecting in his glasses. His fingers moved with practiced precision across the keyboard, making minute adjustments to the AI's core programming.
"Response pattern optimization complete," he murmured to himself. "Threat assessment protocols enhanced."
His hand trembled slightly as he reached for his coffee, spilling a few drops onto his notes. He stared at the spreading stain, momentarily lost in thought.
"Please work," he whispered to the screen. "Please keep him safe."
The AI's code scrolled endlessly before him, beautiful in its complexity, terrifying in its importance. Richard straightened his shoulders and returned to work, determination overriding doubt as he prepared the technology that might save his son—and perhaps what remained of humanity.