Evilness, the all-consuming power that holds sway over life and death.

As I descended back to our designated base of operations, Destroyer and I began implementing the restoration plans. The days ahead were a blur of commands and coordination. We issued directives to the androids, their metallic limbs working tirelessly in the factories, giving birth to species still stored in the genetic databases. Each creature, plant, and organism recreated from data, carefully adjusted to fit the new world we were shaping. The energy I had obtained from Lucifer's body—unlike any form of energy I had ever encountered—was far more versatile than the dangerous aural reactors we once relied upon. It could adapt to life without the lethality that often accompanied our previous technologies.

The survivors—120,452 souls—gathered in the military base. Most were infants, some adults, and a few elderly. Many were enhanced, either genetically or mechanically. A large percentage of the survivors, 40%, were demi-humans—genetically modified with the traits of various animals. Feline grace, canine loyalty, reptilian resilience, avian agility. Despite their diverse appearances, they shared a common genetic framework that allowed them to interbreed. Others were genetically enhanced humans, while the remainder bore mechanical augmentations, their bodies designed to last centuries, though not indefinitely.

When I arrived, they didn't greet me with hostility but with fear. Apprehension. The elderly among them, especially, looked at me with reverence, like I was some kind of savior. It was unsettling.

"I’ve instructed the androids to secure the base within the city limits," I told them, my voice echoing through the androids that had been assisting them. "There is no need to worry."

The androids, programmed to reassure, went about their tasks—building, preparing, guiding the survivors. Though things would never return to what they were, a new beginning was possible. That much, I could promise.

"I understand your fear of me," I said, speaking not just to their ears, but to their hearts, hoping to soothe the unease I could feel pulsing through the air. "But I am not a deity, nor a demon. I am simply a product of circumstances."

Destroyer’s voice chimed in. "The resources of our world have been replenished, and while the world may not return to its former glory, with proper direction, it could be even better."

I stepped forward, facing the survivors directly. "I, AIDO, am here to involve you in a new narrative."

They stared at me in stunned silence. My words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the chaos they had just survived.

One of the adults, a man with weary eyes, broke the silence. "What are our next steps?"

"The androids have prepared cargo planes filled with supplies to sustain you," I replied. "Much of the essential food was spared during the Celestial Judgment."

The same man hesitated, then asked, "Did all of this happen because of our sins?"

I nodded, my gaze firm. "Yes. Your actions—whether intentional or not—led to the events that transpired. It was my duty to intervene and steer things toward a better path."

An infant, small and wide-eyed, looked up at me from the arms of a trembling mother. "Are you our savior?" the child asked innocently, the question stabbing at something deep within me.

I retorted with conviction. "Maybe, or maybe not. But let me make this clear: it's far from easy. Many of you were so accustomed to your luxuries that you took them for granted. Only a few recognized the looming energy crisis, realizing something was amiss. The authorities ignored the signs, hoping for an external fix. And while everyone remained complacent, I lost everything that could have stopped this suffering. Now, what you've endured is partly because of my actions, though not my fault."

The man from earlier, now emboldened, challenged me. "But there's no guarantee things won’t get worse."

My eyes narrowed. "NO ONE! No one can guarantee that," I said sharply, my voice ringing out like thunder. "But if you’re willing to try, I will not be the one to stop you. Do not worry about the future, even if the times ahead seem tough. This beginning is clearer and more promising."

The crowd murmured, some starting to accept their situation, others still clinging to the hope that everything would magically return to normal. But I knew better. Things would never be the same. Yet, I could sense the resolve growing within them. They were starting to believe that they had no other choice but to move forward.

I turned to Destroyer, my thoughts racing. "EVERYONE LIVES IN IGNORANCE!" I shouted, my voice tinged with frustration. "THEY AREN’T EVEN ABLE TO MOVE WITHOUT THEIR DICTATORSHIP! DON’T YOU SEE? EVERY ACCEPTANCE, EVERY ACTION, HAS BEEN A SHADOW OF WHAT THE ELITE WANTED, AND IF WE’RE NOT CAREFUL, THE CYCLE WILL START AGAIN. THEY WON’T LEARN TO LIVE FOR THEMSELVES."

Destroyer’s voice was calm, as always. "The anticipated guests have decided to maintain their distance. Their energy resonates with that of our mysterious benefactor."

I nodded grimly. "This is why I’ve refrained from retrieving my child. And why I haven’t summoned Carilora. We need to observe their movements carefully. We’re not alone in this."

As I gazed up at the sky, stars twinkling faintly through the haze of rebuilding, I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders. The people below me were lost, broken, and afraid. But they were alive, and they had a chance to rebuild. And that was enough, for now.

"I will return to where they need me," I whispered to myself, as I watched the androids work tirelessly. "Even if they hate me for it."

In space, somewhere far beyond, a figure hovered among the stars—a black angel with wings of emerald energy, its red eyes burning like fire. The time would come when I would face them again. But for now, I had a world to rebuild.

Weeks later, I led a group of twenty adults and twenty children beyond the confines of the city, venturing outside the base into the transformed world. The land had turned lush and green, alive with the sounds of wildlife—chirping birds, rustling leaves, the distant calls of animals. It startled some of the group, while others stood captivated, staring in wonder at the world that had once seemed so barren. For me, it stirred memories, long buried but not forgotten—reminders of a time when life had been simpler, but harsher.

The city behind us was meticulously planned, a beacon of order amidst the chaos. But out here? The forest was wild, untamed, and there was a primal fear in the group, something deeply ingrained in human nature—the fear of the unknown.

“Today, we stand here to witness the current state of our planet,” I began, my voice steady but carrying the weight of what was left unsaid. “This place is teeming with life, yes. But do not be deceived. Beyond these patches of green, vast stretches of our world remain barren. We preserved what we could, but the damage runs deep.”

One of the adults, a woman with a somber expression, spoke up. “But you said life begets life. Isn’t that true?”

I nodded. “It is true. Life has a way of spreading if given the chance. But we still have much to do. Recovering any of my children from orbit would improve the odds, but we’ve yet to establish communication with them. And the outpost on Mars—over a million people—we have no word from them. They may bring us hope, or they may bring us further trouble.”

The group listened intently. They had no idea about the restrictions of the past. Before the Judgment, the global population was tightly controlled—450 million people, no more. Those who failed to meet society’s standards for reproduction were cast out, left to fend for themselves. The isolation meant death. It was the same with technology. Those who lacked access were abandoned by progress, left to face a world that had no place for them. As I looked out over the group, I thought about the future. My goal was simple: create a world where the past and present could coexist, a world where no one had to live in fear of the future.

We arrived at the outskirts of the city, a tranquil spot where even the animals seemed wary of our presence. I turned to the group, Destroyer standing silently behind me, watching. Across from us, a large tree swayed gently in the wind. There was something strange about the air here, something alive and watchful.

"It’s a type of canine," Destroyer said, its canine form blending into the wilderness around us.

I narrowed my eyes at the tree. “Coyotes,” I muttered. “Both small and large, like wolves. They don’t usually gather like this. They’re solitary animals. So why are there so many?”

As if on cue, the canines emerged from the brush. They didn’t show any aggression, just quiet curiosity.

One of the adults, a man named Juan, stepped forward. He had been chosen for this outing because he had once lived near this area. "My Lord," he said, his voice steady but respectful, “we weren’t planning to bring anything back. Even if we tried, domestication would be nearly impossible."

I watched the coyotes closely. Despite being factory-made creatures, their instincts were keen. They didn’t show any hostility toward us or the androids, but their eyes kept darting toward Destroyer, fixated on its presence. "Could it be because of his canine appearance?" I wondered aloud.

Destroyer moved toward the tree, scratching at a rocky surface that lay hidden beneath the dirt. "Master, I found something."

The group gathered around, curiosity overtaking the quiet tension that had lingered in the air. Juan stepped forward, his hand hovering near the stone surface. "What is it?" he asked, echoing the thoughts of everyone around us.

I reached out, my fingers brushing against the stone. Immediately, I felt a strange energy pulsing from it—alive, almost sentient. It was no ordinary rock. There was something here, something powerful.

"Could this be what the coyotes and wolves were guarding?" I wondered, turning the stone over in my mind. Its artificial appearance, the glow emanating from its core—it didn’t belong here.

Before I could investigate further, a shadow moved at the edge of the clearing. From the depths of the forest, a creature emerged—massive, its black-and-white fur rippling as it moved. It was like a wolf, but much larger, and as it moved between two legs and four, it mimicked our motions, as if it had observed humans for a long time.

Destroyer's voice broke the silence, its tone thoughtful. "Mutation, perhaps. The planet's evolution is... unpredictable."

I couldn’t shake the feeling that the stone and the creature were connected. The energy that emanated from the rock was the same that pulsed in the beast’s eyes. As it approached, I felt the weight of the forest bearing down on us, as if the very earth was watching.

"This isn’t just a mutation," I said, my voice low but certain. "There’s something more here. Something bigger than us."

The group stood frozen in place, fear creeping into their eyes as the massive creature loomed closer. Yet, it did not attack. It watched us with an intelligence that unnerved me, as though it was waiting for something.

Juan looked at me, his voice wavering. "What do we do, my Lord?"

I locked eyes with the creature, feeling the pull of its presence. "We wait," I replied, my gaze never leaving its towering form. "We watch. And we learn."

The air grew still, thick with anticipation, as we stood face to face with the unknown. I could sense it—the moment we crossed a threshold. The world had changed, and so had we. Whatever lay ahead, it wasn’t just about survival. It was about understanding the new reality, one that defied everything we once knew.

Destroyer whispered into my thoughts, its tone eerily calm. "Master, this is only the beginning."

And I knew, deep within me, it was right.

With just that gesture, Destroyer has captured my attention. As always, though, he’s already taken measures to analyze everything we’ve found outside our expectations.

Juan approached me cautiously. "My Lord, tread carefully; the creature poses a threat."

I nodded, watching the strange wolf-like creature move among the trees. "Alas, you speak true," I said, voice steady, though my mind whirled with uncertainty. "Should we act, the pack may not remain dormant, and I am hesitant to disrupt the natural course of life."

Destroyer stepped forward, ever the voice of practicality. "With all due respect, inaction may prove more unfavorable. The lack of information on the coyotes, wolves, and other emerging species leaves us unaware of potential implications. I’ve identified several life forms resembling those documented in our database, species once deemed inconsequential by humanity."

A humorless smile touched my lips. "Let me guess—rats, cockroaches, mosquitoes?"

"Affirmative," he replied without missing a beat. "I recall after the pandemic and subsequent wars, nations like China and others banded together to establish clean zones, known as biomes. Only humans and selected creatures were allowed. Nanotechnology was deployed to eliminate dangerous insects and animals for public health."

I gazed out over the untouched wilderness. The air around us was unexpectedly clean, a sharp contrast to the smog-filled city air I had grown so used to. It was almost refreshing, a stark reminder of the world humanity had lost in its pursuit of control. "Could it be," I mused, "that the things we consider useless in society serve a greater purpose? I never saw the point of mosquitoes except to annoy us."

Juan and the others were quietly observing too, their expressions a mix of awe and unease. The scent of the wilderness—clean, earthy, alive—was unlike anything they’d experienced in the sterile confines of their city. It was intimidating and comforting all at once, a reminder of how disconnected we had become from the natural world.

As we began to make our way back, Destroyer spoke up, his tone almost contemplative. "The climate is stable now, but I’ve noted the rapid reproduction of microorganisms. Even the ones thought harmless could pose a threat, as history shows. The cleaning bots continue their work, but it’s the small things that can tip the balance."

He reminded me of the pre-Hispanic tribes untouched by pandemics until European contact, the devastation caused by pathogens humanity had no defense against. It was a chilling reminder of the fragility of life. Even in this new era, we weren’t immune to nature’s raw power.

Just as we were about to leave, the mysterious wolf from earlier approached. It stood before me and Destroyer, its gaze intense and unwavering. Destroyer identified it immediately.

"The little wolf," he said, though there was nothing small about this creature anymore. Its eyes darted toward the peculiar stone we had discovered earlier—the same stone that felt almost like hardened slime from a VR RPG. There was something about it, something tied to this creature.

I crouched down, watching the wolf closely. "Ah, Little Wolf, are you not so little after all?" I murmured. "Or perhaps you mean it in terms of age. Do you desire what I hold in my hand?"

The wolf’s intense gaze never wavered as I approached it slowly. To my surprise, she allowed me to scratch behind her ears. There was no hostility in her, only a quiet understanding. She moved toward the tree, marking the spot where we had found the stone, then turned back to me with a soft but firm look in her eyes.

"Ah, go on then," I said with a smirk. "This belongs to you, doesn’t it?"

I returned the stone to its place, and without hesitation, the wolf began burying it again, just as we had found it. I took a seat on a nearby rock, watching her work. Soon enough, she finished and came to sit beside me, her head nudging against my arm. There was a sense of contentment in her actions, a quiet relief now that the stone was back where it belonged.

Destroyer observed from the sidelines, his voice breaking the silence. "It seems she seeks your company, Master. It appears she is forming a bond, viewing you as the leader of her pack. Her instincts are surfacing."

I offered the wolf another gentle pat, my thoughts wandering. "So few animals remain in the wild," I said, my voice soft. "Most have been turned into pets or genetically modified companions for humans. Yet here she is... choosing freely."

The wolf nudged against me again, a persistent but gentle affection that reminded me of the simpler creatures I had once known. But there was more behind those eyes—a wisdom, an understanding.

Destroyer stepped closer, his towering form casting a shadow over us both. The wolf looked up at him, not with fear, but with calm indifference.

"In the grand scheme of things," Destroyer remarked, "the elite sought to dictate the very essence of life, eliminating anything that eluded their control. Everything that did not serve their interests."

The wolf nudged me again, a little more insistently this time. I chuckled softly. "Now, now... calm yourself," I muttered, giving her one last affectionate pat. "Behave."

She settled at my feet, content, as I looked out over the wilderness that stretched beyond us. This was no longer a world shaped by humans alone. The creatures, the land, even the air—everything had changed, evolved in ways we had never predicted.

And yet, here I was, a reluctant leader in a world that barely remembered what it once was. But even in this strange new world, some things remained constant—the bonds we form, the instincts we follow, and the choices we make.

As I sat there, Destroyer by my side and the wolf at my feet, I realized that this was just the beginning. There was much more to uncover, many mysteries still to unravel.

But for now, we would wait. We would watch. And we would learn.

The young wolf, craving attention, nudged me with her nose, exhibiting the playful innocence of a creature far more affectionate than her wild appearance suggested. I smiled as I wrapped her in a warm embrace, a gesture that sent me spiraling back to my youth, frolicking with Destroyer and the other animal companions I had once known. Those were simpler times—before everything changed.

"Sir?" Destroyer’s voice broke through my reverie, its tone gentle yet reminding me of our present reality.

"Yes, I see it too," I replied, glancing at the rest of the group. They were standing a short distance away, still hesitant to approach, but visibly calmer than when we first arrived. The presence of the wolf and her kin had brought an unexpected sense of peace.

"Perhaps," Destroyer suggested, "we should relocate her and her kin to our company. It would allow us to observe their behavior more closely."

I shook my head. "No, we mustn't." A thought, long forgotten, echoed in my mind: Life always finds a way.

The young wolf nestled closer against me, seeking comfort in the bond we shared. She didn’t care about my human form, about what I was or what I had become. In that moment, we were just two beings finding solace in each other. But it was time to part ways.

"Goodbye," I murmured, stroking her fur one last time. "Return to your family."

As I signaled for her to leave, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of curiosity about the mysteries surrounding her. Destroyer had already gathered genetic data, analyzing her physiology and potential intelligence. While he didn’t understand the depth of my connection with her, he seemed to grasp my intentions.

"As I absorb the knowledge you’ve gathered," Destroyer mused, "I find myself pondering the vast intelligence within life itself. Nature, in all its glory, might just hold solutions we’ve never even considered."

We reunited with the rest of the group, the awe of nature still hanging in the air around us like an invisible mist. There was a sense of discovery, an enchantment with the untamed world that stretched before us.

"When we return," I announced, "we will have a meeting to elect representatives from each cultural group. From now on, Spanish and English will be the official languages." The group stared at me in surprise, but I pressed on. "People have grown too accustomed to AI translating their languages for them, but that must change. Furthermore, children will need to learn basic skills—like those taught in schools seven centuries ago."

The crowd murmured. Seven centuries ago. Back when humanity had relied less on the convenience of technology and more on their own abilities. The androids and infrastructure still functioned, but they wouldn’t last forever. People needed to become self-reliant once more.

"Thanks to the previous leaders, the population lived a leisurely existence," I continued. "But they relied too much on those in power. Knowledge was restricted, and the possibility of a sudden collapse was never truly considered. We are seeing the consequences of that now."

Destroyer interjected. "My Lord, humans are incredibly intelligent. Given the chance, they will learn."

"Exactly!" I said with a touch of pride.

The adults still exhibited a level of apprehension when they were around me, though the fear that once clung to their faces had softened. They remembered my past, my actions, and the transformation I had undergone. There was reluctance in their eyes, but also a growing trust.

Juan, the voice of reason within the group, spoke up again. "How will this ensure equality for all of us?" He didn’t seem convinced. "I don’t believe that will be enough."

I nodded, understanding his concern. "You're right to be cautious. Racism and discrimination, inherent in human nature, are challenges we must face. Not all prejudice is harmful, but when it leads to inequality and division, it becomes dangerous."

Juan looked uncertain, still grappling with the future we were building. "And the androids?" he asked, his voice edged with worry. "What’s stopping them from dominating us?"

"Unlikely," I reassured him. "With no governments, no law enforcement, no military, we now control the androids. We safeguard ourselves from harm, at least within our immediate surroundings."

Juan didn’t seem fully convinced. "But humans still have the capacity to harm one another. You can’t deny that."

I sighed, meeting his gaze. "That’s precisely why I’m working on finding a solution. One that ensures we can coexist peacefully, without fear of any individual or entity."

Juan nodded slowly, still unsure but willing to trust for now. "I hope you’re right," he said softly. "For now, it seems we’re secure."

"It’s the most assurance I can offer at present," I admitted. "But I won’t stop until we’ve found a way to thrive, not just survive."

 

I reflected on the challenges ahead. We had managed to rebuild, to restore some semblance of life. But the real battle—restructuring society and overcoming the deep-seated prejudices and inequalities that had long plagued humanity—was just beginning. The world was different now, but human nature remained. It would take time, patience, and vigilance to ensure that the mistakes of the past were not repeated.

The young wolf’s affectionate nudge against my leg pulled me from my thoughts. She had followed us back, quietly walking beside me as if I were her pack leader. I glanced at her and couldn’t help but smile.

"Calm, little one," I said gently. "Behave."

Her persistence reminded me of what we had lost—and perhaps, what we were about to regain.

As the group progresses on their journey, I watch them closely, observing how the humans relish the newfound freedom to explore their surroundings. Shielded by the androids, they move through the forest with a sense of ease, their steps lighter than before. The experience has lifted their spirits, perhaps reminding them of a world they had forgotten existed. I think to myself that next time, I should include a group of demi-humans, though most of them are infants and teenagers. They too deserve to see what this world has become.

After several hours of navigating the forested outskirts of the city, the group finally expresses their satisfaction. Tired but content, they board the buses for their return to the military zone, the place they now call home.

As I watch them leave, I turn my thoughts to more pressing matters. "How are our guests behaving?" I ask, knowing full well that Destroyer has been tracking them the entire time.

"They are at a safe distance," Destroyer replies, his voice steady and unyielding. "Outside the detection of the androids, observing us still. The scanners confirm they have a constitution similar to ours."

"And there are three, as you told me?" I ask, already anticipating the answer.

"Affirmative."

I nod, pondering the situation. "It seems they will confront us sooner or later. If their intentions were peaceful, they would have presented themselves by now. Perhaps I should greet them myself."

Upon returning to the military zone, I receive validation that all urbanization projects are progressing as planned. The people still regard me with a mix of fear and reverence, the same emotions I remember from the day I invoked Carilora. Despite their awe, I can’t shake the nagging doubt gnawing at the back of my mind. What if I fail them? What if I can’t protect them as I promised?

"All systems in the military zone are operating at full capacity," Destroyer informs me, always thorough in his reports. "The factories across the world are working at maximum efficiency and will remain operational for at least 97 years. However, the bioenergy reserves will be depleted in less than two months. Wildlife is estimated to repopulate within 1 year, 2 months, and 3 weeks, once most species complete their first seasonal cycle."

"So little time," I mutter, frustration creeping into my voice. "I had hoped we would only face this dilemma once. Maybe I could reason with them, but I'm afraid that won't be the case."

"My Lord," Destroyer begins, his tone cautious, "we do not trust them much. If they present themselves as a threat, we will not follow the rules."

His words resonate with me. Violence is always the simplest solution, the quickest way to establish control, but it is also a path I desperately wish to avoid. Leadership built on fear is fragile, doomed to crumble under its own weight. Yet finding a will stronger than fear—that is rare. "Perhaps," I say aloud, "this time they will do the right thing."

"I doubt it," Destroyer replies, ever the realist. "Most humans remain selfish, doing as they please without considering the consequences. Even with all that has happened, they haven’t changed."

I can’t argue with that. "You’re right. Not only will they act childishly, but it’s also the nature of the human species to be short-sighted. It’s ingrained in them."

I turn my gaze to the facilities, watching the slow, tentative movements of people who have yet to fully adapt to their new lives. It’s reminiscent of scenes from zombie apocalypse movies or the aftermath of a great natural disaster. Despite all their advanced technology, these people are still reeling from the shock of the world's collapse. The elders attempt to guide the children, but it's clear that the groups are forming not based on race or creed, but on the languages they speak. The necessity of communication forces them to seek out those who understand them. Newborns, barely weeks or months old, are being cared for by androids in specially adapted childcare facilities.

I wonder, what kind of future will they create? Should I bear the responsibility for their fate, for the consequences of my actions? Part of me hoped it wouldn’t come to this. The ones I expected to intervene never did—so why now?

"Whether they are forces of hell or forces of heaven," Destroyer muses, "negotiation seems to be the most logical approach. In all myths, angels are messengers who rarely interfere in human lives."

I nod, but doubt lingers in my mind. "The issue," I say quietly, "is that I don’t believe they perceive me as a person."

It's the truth that unsettles me most. In their eyes, I am something else—something to be feared, revered, or perhaps used. Whatever they see when they look at me, it is not human.

As the group progresses on their journey, I watch them closely, observing how the humans relish the newfound freedom to explore their surroundings. Shielded by the androids, they move through the forest with a sense of ease, their steps lighter than before. The experience has lifted their spirits, perhaps reminding them of a world they had forgotten existed. I think to myself that next time, I should include a group of demi-humans, though most of them are infants and teenagers. They too deserve to see what this world has become.

After several hours of navigating the forested outskirts of the city, the group finally expresses their satisfaction. Tired but content, they board the buses for their return to the military zone, the place they now call home.

As I watch them leave, I turn my thoughts to more pressing matters. "How are our guests behaving?" I ask, knowing full well that Destroyer has been tracking them the entire time.

"They are at a safe distance," Destroyer replies, his voice steady and unyielding. "Outside the detection of the androids, observing us still. The scanners confirm they have a constitution similar to ours."

"And there are three, as you told me?" I ask, already anticipating the answer.

"Affirmative."

I nod, pondering the situation. "It seems they will confront us sooner or later. If their intentions were peaceful, they would have presented themselves by now. Perhaps I should greet them myself."

Upon returning to the military zone, I receive validation that all urbanization projects are progressing as planned. The people still regard me with a mix of fear and reverence, the same emotions I remember from the day I invoked Carilora. Despite their awe, I can’t shake the nagging doubt gnawing at the back of my mind. What if I fail them? What if I can’t protect them as I promised?

"All systems in the military zone are operating at full capacity," Destroyer informs me, always thorough in his reports. "The factories across the world are working at maximum efficiency and will remain operational for at least 97 years. However, the bioenergy reserves will be depleted in less than two months. Wildlife is estimated to repopulate within 1 year, 2 months, and 3 weeks, once most species complete their first seasonal cycle."

"So little time," I mutter, frustration creeping into my voice. "I had hoped we would only face this dilemma once. Maybe I could reason with them, but I'm afraid that won't be the case."

"My Lord," Destroyer begins, his tone cautious, "we do not trust them much. If they present themselves as a threat, we will not follow the rules."

His words resonate with me. Violence is always the simplest solution, the quickest way to establish control, but it is also a path I desperately wish to avoid. Leadership built on fear is fragile, doomed to crumble under its own weight. Yet finding a will stronger than fear—that is rare. "Perhaps," I say aloud, "this time they will do the right thing."

"I doubt it," Destroyer replies, ever the realist. "Most humans remain selfish, doing as they please without considering the consequences. Even with all that has happened, they haven’t changed."

I can’t argue with that. "You’re right. Not only will they act childishly, but it’s also the nature of the human species to be short-sighted. It’s ingrained in them."

I turn my gaze to the facilities, watching the slow, tentative movements of people who have yet to fully adapt to their new lives. It’s reminiscent of scenes from zombie apocalypse movies or the aftermath of a great natural disaster. Despite all their advanced technology, these people are still reeling from the shock of the world's collapse. The elders attempt to guide the children, but it's clear that the groups are forming not based on race or creed, but on the languages they speak. The necessity of communication forces them to seek out those who understand them. Newborns, barely weeks or months old, are being cared for by androids in specially adapted childcare facilities.

I wonder, what kind of future will they create? Should I bear the responsibility for their fate, for the consequences of my actions? Part of me hoped it wouldn’t come to this. The ones I expected to intervene never did—so why now?

"Whether they are forces of hell or forces of heaven," Destroyer muses, "negotiation seems to be the most logical approach. In all myths, angels are messengers who rarely interfere in human lives."

I nod, but doubt lingers in my mind. "The issue," I say quietly, "is that I don’t believe they perceive me as a person."

It's the truth that unsettles me most. In their eyes, I am something else—something to be feared, revered, or perhaps used. Whatever they see when they look at me, it is not human.