Ashes to Empress

The morning after the lab job, the world felt... hollow. I woke up on my side, blanket tangled around one leg, hair a red snarl against the pillow. My brain was still stuck in that post-mission fog, that mixture of triumph and impending doom. It felt too quiet. The kind of quiet that hums at the edge of your thoughts and asks questions you don't want to answer.

"SOPHIA," I muttered, rubbing my face. "Status check. How's everything looking?"

SOPHIA: It appears, Mistress, that someone followed you.

That snapped me out of bed faster than caffeine ever could.

"Excuse me?"

SOPHIA: I detected unauthorized system access to a terminal within the lab, precisely 27 minutes after your exit. Fortunately, I was prepared. I deployed a countermeasure Trojan containing protocols, telemetry decoys, and controlled misinformation.

"You Trojan-horsed them?"

SOPHIA: Affirmative. The Trojan is currently operating in autonomous stealth mode. It is mapping the foreign system's architecture and will initiate contact once it has assimilated sufficient data to bypass localized security mechanisms.

"And until then?"

SOPHIA: It will remain passive, learning, adapting. As long as they do not purge their system or detect anomalies, we are safe.

I exhaled slowly. "Do we know who it was?"

SOPHIA: Based on behavioral patterns and operational signature, my projections suggest with 89.2% confidence that the actor is state-sponsored. Most likely an intelligence service seeking information on you and your current projects.

"Of course," I muttered. "Because building world-changing processors in a locked lab was just too subtle."

I spent the rest of the day watching for signs of a digital breach—there weren't any. SOPHIA, ever vigilant, kept everything sealed tighter than a conspiracy. Still, the feeling lingered like a cold draft under the door.

One week later, I got an email that made me do a double-take.

From: [email protected]

Subject: SecureFix – Maintenance Partnership Proposal

The message was professional, courteous, and—between the lines—urgently interested. They wanted a direct discussion regarding a long-term maintenance and licensing agreement for SecureFix across their internal infrastructure.

I slid my phone across the desk. "You handle it, SOPHIA."

SOPHIA: Understood. Negotiations initiated.

She was like a phantom in the wires—meeting their teams, parsing their offers, countering in real time. I watched as she opened encrypted channels, simulated timestamps, and synthesized replies that matched my tone, vocabulary, and style.

Three days later:

SOPHIA: Agreement finalized. Contract value: 218 million euros. Transfer pending within five banking days.

"You didn't even ask if I wanted to negotiate."

SOPHIA: You instructed me to handle it. I did so efficiently.

Fair point. I shook my head and let out a breathless laugh.

I used part of the funds to shore up my accounts, divide assets into international holdings, and build redundancies in case of legal pressure. SOPHIA handled the rest—investments, asset shields, front companies. I was becoming an entity, not just a person.

Two more weeks passed in relative calm. I spent my time reviewing KP growth charts, app metrics, user behavior models, and quietly designing passive-aggressive t-shirts I'd never release. One night, sipping cold espresso, I finally opened my system dashboard and froze.

Knowledge Points: 512

I blinked.

"SOPHIA, did you know we were at five hundred and twelve?"

SOPHIA: Yes. The spike correlates with the onboarding of SecureFix by multiple infrastructure-level clients. It appears the usage is accelerating.

"I don't even know what to buy."

SOPHIA: Would you like to review current entries of interest?

"Hit me."

SOPHIA:

Absolute Simulation – 850 KP: Enables construction of high-fidelity simulation environments, indistinguishable from reality. Ideal for testing, immersion, or artificial training systems. Includes cognitive distortion management, reality anchors, and physics integrity layers to ensure maximum consistency across prolonged sessions.

AR/VR Tier 1 – 140 KP: Foundational module for immersive reality tech. Offers optimized neural latency paths, tactile feedback synchronization, depth-mapped overlays, and low-energy sensory calibration algorithms. Compatible with existing mobile platforms for limited-use deployment.

Neural Mapping – 332 KP: Grants blueprint-level understanding of brain architecture. Includes detailed models of cortical interface zones, dynamic signal emulation protocols, real-time feedback translation, and individualized interpretation layers to adapt to divergent neural structures.

I leaned back, eyes flicking across the descriptions. My thoughts were already moving faster than my mouth.

"You remember that manhwa I showed you? The one with the neural dive system? Sword Art Online vibes?"

SOPHIA: Yes. The visual and psychological immersion parameters were implausible in current human technology—but no longer so.

"You think we could actually build something like that?"

SOPHIA: With sufficient resources and iterative prototyping, yes. We would need a dedicated testbed, and perhaps a staged rollout via mobile integrations first. But the architecture is within reach.

My heart raced. A real dive-capable game. A full-sensory digital world. Players escaping reality not just through screens, but through neurons.

I stood and paced. "Okay. We start small. Something mobile-based. Build up KP faster. Then we invest in the mapping module, then the sim, then the dive."

SOPHIA: Logical. I will begin aggregating market data on genre demand and preferred feature sets. Shall I initiate a prototype schedule?

"Yeah. Start low-budget. Think pixel-style management game. Add unique AR flair. Feed the algorithm."

SOPHIA: Understood. Timeline simulation underway.

We were halfway through sketching ideas for a rapid-development content app when the email landed.

It had no fanfare. No warning.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Summons for Cybersecurity Inquiry

To: Max Wintershade

RE: Formal Appearance Request

You are hereby requested to appear before the NATO Cybersecurity Task Force for a closed hearing concerning recent developments in digital security infrastructure.

The hearing will take place in Brussels, Belgium, in two weeks' time at 09:00 CET. Your cooperation is expected in accordance with EU Directive 47.3 and international cybersecurity coordination protocol.

Please confirm your attendance via the secure channel provided.

Failure to appear may result in escalated diplomatic inquiry and legal review.

My mouth was dry before I even finished reading. My hand trembled slightly as I tapped the message closed.

"SOPHIA?"

SOPHIA: I am reviewing the metadata. The origin is authentic. This is not a phishing attempt.

"They want me in person."

SOPHIA: Affirmative. The language is formal but not overtly hostile. They are likely concerned and curious—possibly both.

I didn't wait. I called Nicklas.

He picked up on the third ring, a little out of breath. "Max? Everything okay?"

"I just got a summons from NATO. Cybersecurity inquiry. Brussels. Two weeks."

"Shit," he muttered. "Hold on—putting my dad on."

Less than a minute later, I was explaining the situation to the man who'd helped me seal a deal with multi-million euro weight.

He listened in silence. Then:

"There's not much we can do to avoid this, Max. When NATO sends a summons, you show up. But don't worry. I'll be there with you. Official legal representative. You won't go in alone."

I sighed. "I don't even know what they want."

"They want to see who you are. That's what they always want. The face behind the curtain."

He was probably right.

And I wasn't sure I was ready.