MONT FLEURY — KINSHASA — AFRICAN UNION
THIRTY-TWO YEARS LATER — 25 JULY 2068
PRESENT DAY — 8:02 AM
Stella woke up in her pod, panic stirring as she realized she'd fallen asleep immediately upon returning from Down Below. Exhausted, she'd lingered, intending to relax for a few minutes, but the pod's zero-gravity bed and wellness systems were so effective that she fell into a deep sleep, waking up many hours later. Holy ship!
As the capsule split open, the artificial spider-silk cocoon unraveled around her. It opened like a giant hibiscus flower welcoming the sunlight. The smart material kept her fine body bundled like a sleeping baby, providing an extra layer of comfort and protection inside the impenetrable pod. The Earth could shake, and the skies could fall, but she’d be safe from harm inside the egg-shaped container that would keep her healthy and well-nourished.
Stella's new prototype, EggZ1, was designed to let humans experience Spiral Worlds as a lifestyle destination, not just a self-development platform. It also included Harry’s soul uploading and synch feature, of course. It was supposed to be produced at scale, once Graviz was rolled out, enabling humans and xHumans to continue to live together. Unlike the current models, designed to be used no longer than a couple of hours at a time, a human could stay in the EggZ1 for weeks. I’m such a visionary genius!
The body-nourishing bracelets unlocked from her wrists. Now free, her hand went straight to her belly as her mind—still out of sync with her uninjured body—ached from her digital battle scars. Ungrateful prick! She caught herself smiling and licking her lips every time she remembered her sparring opponent. Not quite knowing what to make of it, she shook her head, an attempt to clear her mind. Still, her skin tingled.
Stella opened the mantic oven and dipped a piece of fufu in the hot fumbwa. She wasn’t hungry, all of her nutrition needs had been satisfied by the EggZ1. Yet, the starchy cassava dough and wild spinach stew filled her empty stomach—a sensation she never bothered to simulate Down Below. She'd been too busy for that.
Overwhelmed by the scent of salty cultured fish, garlic and peanut butter, she opened the doors to the balcony, welcoming the morning sun, and noticing the unusual silence outside. Usually, at this time, the boisterous children were heading to the local school. Mont Fleury, once an affluent suburb with walled gardens and barbed wire, had transformed into a vast, vibrant garden. Homes with open doors lined meandering paths, welcoming visitors. Scanning the neighborhood, she couldn’t find a single soul outside. Strange. They’d probably got up early for a school trip to one of the local farms.
Fully awake now, she activated her augmented retina. Notifications from her father appeared at the center of her vision. There were other messages from Earth’s Council Trustees and their aids. She pushed it all out of sight and mind. They were probably seeking answers for the disruptions Down Below. Playing their messages was a waste of time and she had little of it to spare.
She smiled, reflecting on her luck. January—Storm’s collaborator and captor—had made a tactical error. Further down the spiral, Storm’s gatherings couldn’t be streamed across the worlds. Any land below Compiz’s borders lacked the technological infrastructure to disseminate his powerful poetry and bewitching delivery. Without video streaming or microphones, he could reach just a few thousand Underlings—creatures dwelling in lower worlds, less soulful and connected to Sibyl’s emotional intelligence, zie heart. Storm no longer had power over Spiral Worlds, and the glitches were over. January’s strategic error had crippled the Underlings’ revolution and had set the course to deliver Shadow’s demise in five days. The death that would save the worlds.
Her plan had worked brilliantly, and she did it all without killing an xHuman. She was the herald of eternal life, and she didn’t intend to undermine that by killing that insufferable cricket of a man. A noisy pest, now silenced by his backstabbing friend. Eh!
As she'd foreseen, Shadow would never let Storm die. By attacking Storm, Stella knew Shadow would use his last miracle to save the poet. And without miracles, Shadow was now more likely to die attempting to save the man he loved because neither Twist nor Stella would lift a finger to help the poet. Genius!
Still, she’d miss him. Being the worlds’ Goddess was a lonely job, and he was her only friend. Unlike Sibyl and Stella’s devoted followers, mostly interested in what she could do for them, Shadow seemed to care for her genuinely. But there was no point in crying over spilled milk. Sibyl’s predictions had always been accurate, and Shadow’s death was as certain as night follows day.
With the verified recording of her attack on Storm in hand, Stella aimed to sway Quincy Jin-Nowak and his mother. She had a plan and had to move fast; the Nyiragongo was seething, threatening her Bibi’s only chance of resurrection. First, though, she needed the right outfit. She sighed as she scanned her closet, looking for her rubber boots.