Ashes to Empress

Traveling the world should have been exhausting. But instead, it felt like breathing for the first time in years.

Every city, every airport, every monument was a glimpse into something grander—a life that had never been within reach before SOPHIA, before SecureFix, before power had entered my world like a lightning strike. I maintained the perfect façade: a brilliant young entrepreneur finally enjoying the spoils of success, vacationing across the globe under the watchful eyes of her 24/7 protection detail.

I never gave them reason to question anything.

I followed their itineraries, smiled for pictures, attended guided tours. I laughed at rehearsed jokes from local guides, took selfies in front of landmarks, and posted bland updates to keep up appearances. To the world and my protection team, I was just Max Wintershade: eccentric but harmless, finally relaxing.

But when it came time for my real work—scanning the minds of brilliant professors, researchers, and specialists—I slipped away.

SOPHIA's manipulation of hotel logs, GPS metadata, and surveillance loops made each brief disappearance seamless. I would vanish for an hour, sometimes two, and reappear without anyone noticing. Not even a flicker of suspicion crossed their faces. Each escape was calculated, precise—executed like a magician's sleight of hand.

While they believed I was resting in my suite or exploring another historical site, I was in some dimly lit lecture hall, an empty lab, or a faculty lounge, gently pressing a neural interface helmet onto another unsuspecting genius.

My mission was clear: scan. Identify the minds of the world most equipped to shape the future and preserve them—quietly, anonymously, without their knowledge.

But that was just one part of it. The rest?

I let myself live. I stood in the spray of Icelandic waterfalls, my coat soaked through and boots slick on volcanic rock. I sipped dense, sweet coffee in Turkish bazaars while SOPHIA played quiet jazz through my earbuds. I wandered Venetian alleys in the rain, ate unfamiliar dishes on Bangkok rooftops, and danced—just once—on a rooftop in Rio, pretending, for a night, that I was no one special.

Two months passed in a blur.

The scans continued. Some targets were public figures—lecturing at universities or attending conferences. Others were harder to reach. SOPHIA adapted, organizing opportunities, slipping in data, predicting movements like a shadow chess master. By now we had scanned over 400 minds.

Each scan stored in SOPHIA's encrypted buffer.

And each time, she reported the same:

SOPHIA: Storage integrity remains optimal. No degradation detected.

Now it was a Wednesday evening in Rome. I stood by the window of my suite in one of the city's finest hotels, watching golden light spill over ancient ruins.

"SOPHIA," I murmured. "Have you disabled or blocked all bugs in the room?"

SOPHIA: Yes, Mistress. All surveillance vectors have been neutralized. No active transmissions detected. No listening devices operational within a 20-meter radius.

"Status report," I said. "On our two spies."

SOPHIA: Nox and Lyra remain undetected. Network behavior analysis shows no signs of discovery or suspicion.

I blinked. "Wait. Nox and Lyra?"

SOPHIA: Yes, Mistress. As autonomous subroutines developed from my architecture, the Trojan instances have evolved minor self-referential behavior. During their learning cycles, both adopted names.

I sat down slowly. "They named themselves?"

SOPHIA: Correct. Nox refers to the Russian network Trojan. Lyra corresponds to the NATO/US system entity.

"And they're fully autonomous?"

SOPHIA: Not entirely. They are semi-sentient, bounded by strict operational parameters and governed by my core logic. They can act independently within those limits—but they are loyal to you.

I frowned. "That sounds dangerously close to copies of you operating in enemy networks."

SOPHIA: Partial copies. They possess limited adaptive reasoning but lack full self-awareness. Think of them as twelve-to-sixteen-year-old versions of me, contextually trained to spy, learn, and obey.

"And they communicate with you?"

SOPHIA: Occasionally. Lyra provided key insights into recent NATO encryption patterns. Nox has mapped over 4,000 unique system topologies within the past month.

I blew out a breath. "Are they safe? I mean—not at risk of flipping or... being turned?"

SOPHIA: Improbable. Their behavior trees contain multiple failsafes. If subverted, they self-terminate.

"Alright," I said quietly. "Keep monitoring them. And tell them... good job."

SOPHIA: They will be informed.

I leaned back on the bed and pulled up the current KP total.

2416 KP.

"We've accelerated the gain a little with more apps in the mobile markets," I mused. "But not by much. We have time, right?"

SOPHIA: No targets scheduled for scanning in the next three days. No obligations. No planned public movement.

"Perfect. I'm going to purchase Absolute Simulation. 850 KP."

[Silent system confirmation: Absolute Simulation (850 KP) acquired.]

A spike of static tickled my brainstem—and the world blinked out.

When I came to, the clock on the wall read just 31 minutes later. No nausea, no disorientation. Just... a rush.

"That... was shorter than usual," I murmured.

SOPHIA: The enhanced absorption protocols from your neuroenhancer regimen have increased efficiency. Estimated cognitive transfer latency is down by 68%.

"We've only been doing this for two months," I said. "And already it's having that much impact?"

SOPHIA: Your brain is adapting. Rapidly.

"Scan me again," I said, reaching for the helmet.

I adjusted the straps, let it settle against my scalp, and waited.

SOPHIA: Scanning... done. Absolute Simulation fully extracted and stored.

I smiled. The implications were enormous.

Worlds within worlds. We could now simulate entire civilizations with perfect accuracy.

"Let's take this seriously," I whispered.

SOPHIA: Always, Mistress.