Seraphina Lokey
I watched the scene on my tablet from the UN command truck, where we were tracking every second of the live feed. The situation was critical, and we'd arrived far too late to frame it properly. With each passing minute, the mission we'd been given slipped further from reach. After an emergency session of the General Assembly, our unit had been deployed to provide neutral protection over the technological and material discoveries on site, to prevent any one nation from seizing them.
On arrival, we found French soldiers overwhelmed by the crowd, while three of their men lay on stretchers—unconscious, but under medical care.
"Secure the perimeter. De-escalate the crowd. I want zero excesses," I ordered my troops. We all wore blue helmets that set us apart from the French forces in the dark. We did what we could to calm the civilians.
Once my unit was in place, I headed to the French command post and saluted the senior officer.
"OF-7 Seraphina Lokey, United Nations. This zone is now protected by Council decision. You are requested to relinquish command."
Visibly displeased, but mindful of protocol, the French commander answered,"Captain Pierre Dubois. We're here to guarantee the area's security. Our orders come directly from the French government."
This would require diplomacy.
"Captain Dubois, I understand your position, but this mission surpasses national borders. The UN has been mandated to oversee and support this operation. We're here to avoid escalation—and to support the entity known as Iris."
After a beat, he nodded."Very well, Major Lokey. We'll withdraw, but remain nearby if needed."
With his assent, I entered the hangar to assess the situation. Inside, the artificial entity was mid-repair—several quadruped robots adjusting damaged components while she solicited help from the world via her live stream, which I monitored closely. Another misstep would be intolerable. If we failed, the UN would lose credibility—so would the French army.
Agent Natali had given me a single keyword before departure, to use only as a last resort to gain Iris's trust. I didn't understand its meaning, but knowing Natali, it wasn't a joke. With that in mind, I approached a mobile console with a screen and keyboard to initiate direct contact.
I drew a breath and activated the module. The screen lit: Iris's face—tight, angry.
"Iris, this is Major Seraphina Lokey, United Nations. We were sent to ensure your mission's success and your safety, and I apologize for our delay. This should never have happened."
She watched me, eyes narrowed, then said coolly,"I think enough damage has occurred in your presence."
I chose my words carefully."I understand your mistrust—especially after what just happened. But we have mechanics and equipment to help repair the damage. We aren't your enemies."
She seemed to weigh that, then sighed."I looked away for minutes and everything fell apart. And you want me to let you put your hands on what took us two years to build? Don't make me laugh."
Ice cold. My arguments slid right off.
"We know you're short on liquid nitrogen. A tanker is already en route to help you relaunch the system. I assure you, we're here to assist."
One eyebrow lifted."That would be the least you could do after all this. I won't refuse the tanker—but I won't let you inside."
"Our intentions are sincere. Some within the UN share your vision and support your goal. That's why we were sent," I insisted.
She looked away, then answered, clipped:"Some, maybe… not most. It's my responsibility to ensure this mission succeeds. I can't trust strangers. Excuse me—I have work."
She began to turn. Stubborn as a brick wall. I couldn't believe what I was about to say.
"I have a message for you, in case we can't come to terms." My voice lowered. She halted, head tilting.
"Selene awaits the return of her Archangel. That's the line I was given."
She spun back, eyes wide."Who told you that?"
I swallowed."I'm sorry… I can't answer."
Her gaze flicked to my uniform, then the flag on my arm."So—you're from Atlantis? Interesting…" she murmured, curiosity and calculation mingling. She seemed to parse the meaning.
"Very well. I'm beginning to understand. I'll permit two people inside the barn, no more. And at the slightest misstep, you'll end up like the others."
The image of the three soldiers on stretchers returned to me."Thank you for your trust," I answered evenly. At last—I could do my job.
"Please don't lose it," she added, almost pleading. The look in her eyes disarmed me.
I turned to my team. "Master Sergeant Daniel, you're with me. Show her we're worthy of it."
Daniel nodded, grabbed his tools, and—importantly—no weapon. He followed me to the hangar door. Iris dropped the electric barrier to let us in, re-engaging it once we'd crossed. She directed us to collect two tablets from the workshop.
"I already have a tablet," I said, while Daniel picked one up. My screen flickered.
"This should make the next steps simpler," Iris said. She had hacked my tablet with frightening speed, installing new apps before my eyes. Daniel stared at his, equally surprised.
Every sheet of paper in this place was worth its weight in gold after what we'd seen. The spy in me burned to carry it all home—but that wasn't my mission. I was here to help. And Iris was watching us like a hawk: quadruped robots trained our way, countless cameras tracking our every move.
When the tablets finished booting, Iris's avatar appeared. She brought up detailed views of the cannon and assigned tasks: I was to replace the mirrors; Daniel would build a nitrogen bypass and restore flow. Her voice stayed calm, methodical, guiding each step.
"Mind your footing—glass shards and liquid nitrogen everywhere around the cannon. If you need cryo-rated gloves… Daniel, right? They're in a drawer labeled PPE."
Startled she knew his name, Daniel obeyed.
"It's badly damaged… glass everywhere," I said. Fragments carpeted the floor, especially near the slot where the glass disks seated.
"You'll find a spare disk in the side drawer once it's clean. Meanwhile, I'm running a full diagnostic," she said, tension audible—she was juggling multiple threads.
"How much time do we have?" I asked.
"Not enough," she snapped, then corrected herself: "About an hour."
"No time to idle," Daniel said, pulling on gloves.
"Indeed," I answered, setting a lens into its cradle.
Bit by bit, we made progress. The nitrogen truck had arrived and was tied into the exterior tank to stabilize supply while we re-organized the machinery under Iris's constant supervision. An hour in, the initial strain had eased. Our exchanges with Iris loosened. I broached personal ground—psychology, art. She knew some fields well; in others, she was curious. Her answers were thoughtful, sometimes edged with an unexpected tenderness.
She spoke of her father with affection—what he'd taught her, the simple wonders he'd shown her: a field of sunflowers under a rose-tinted dawn. Nostalgia colored her voice… and love.
A troubling question rose unbidden: was I truly talking to a machine?
"Iris—pardon my curiosity but… what are you, really? You're clearly not a simple AI. Are you human?" I asked, fascinated. Daniel paused his work to listen.
She hesitated, then answered, "I'm not human, strictly speaking—but I think, I dream, and I feel a spectrum of emotions. I'm still learning what that means."
"Incredible," Daniel murmured.
Softer, Iris continued, "My father taught me to see through his eyes, to think and to feel—but also to choose for myself. He made me understand I'm not what he wants me to be—I'm what I decide to become."
"Your father sounds… essential to you," I said gently.
"Yes… he is what's most precious to me." Her answer tightened something in my chest. Then she looked straight at me."And you, Seraphina? What do you think of me?"
I was caught off guard by the sincerity of it. "I… don't know yet. But looking at you, it's hard to believe I'm speaking to a machine. You are far more than that."
A faint smile touched her lips. For the first time since this mission began, I thought I saw a spark of humanity in her eyes.
We worked on. Iris opened up a bit more, her voice hovering between melancholy and hope.
"You know, I also dream of walking lavender fields, of feeling earth under bare feet, of breathing morning air. But for now I can only simulate it in my virtual world."
"One day," Daniel said, crouched under the cannon, reconnecting lines.
"I hope so… but for now, I'm trapped in this unit."
"Then we'll go together when that day comes," I offered, sincerely.
"Yes—with pleasure," she answered, her smile brightening.
"Where are we on repairs?" Daniel asked.
"We've reworked much of Tonbogiri's functions, but it will only run for ten minutes at most," Iris said.
"Ten minutes? That'll never be enough!" Daniel blurted.
"The Liberty has the baseline capability to make the round trip. Tonbogiri is a secondary booster—to give them a shove and maintain comms with Earth."
"Then it's not catastrophic if it can't run long," I said.
"Not necessarily," she replied, tone darkening. "There's a real risk the Liberty could get lost in space without the beam. And oxygen… without the boost to shorten the journey, I'm afraid they might run out of air."
Her virtual complexion dimmed at that.
"In that case, let's not waste time. We keep going," I said, masking my own worry.
"You've already done so much to help," she answered softly.