Series: Chronos Imperium
Episode 2: The Ghost in the Machine
FADE IN:
EXT. ALLEYWAY, NEW YORK CITY - NIGHT (1996)
A sickening lurch, a flash of blinding light, and then-silence.
PRINCESS KAELEN collapses onto wet, grimy pavement. The air is thick with the stench of garbage and unfamiliar fumes. A cacophony of sounds assaults her: the distant wail of a siren, the angry honk of a car horn, the thunderous rattle of a passing subway train beneath her feet.
She pushes herself up, her pristine white robes now stained with filth. Her head pounds. She looks at her hands; they are solid. She is here.
:
She stumbles out of the alley onto a busy street. It's a nightmare vision from her historical archives. Towering, monolithic buildings blot out the stars. A river of yellow taxi cabs flows down a canyon of concrete and glass. The people are a chaotic swarm-pushing, shouting, their faces a mixture of stress, apathy, and aggression. The air is cold and bites at her exposed skin.
This world doesn't hum with harmony; it screams with discord.
She clutches the Wayfinder in her hand. The smooth obsidian device feels cold. On its dark surface, a single, terrifying message glows in red:
ORACLE CONNECTION: SEVERED.
TIMELINE INTEGRITY: 38% AND
DECAYING.
WARNING: LOCAL CHRONON FIELD
UNSTABLE.
She is cut off. A queen with no kingdom, a seer with no sight. The future she came from may not even exist anymore. A wave of vertigo and despair washes over her.
A rough-looking man bumps into her, hard.
> Hey, watch it, lady! What are you, coming from a costume party?
He eyes her strange, shimmering robes and the glowing device in her hand. Kaelen recoils, her royal upbringing leaving her utterly unprepared for such casual hostility.
She pulls her hood over her head and melts back into the shadows of the alley.
INT. ABANDONED WAREHOUSE - NIGHT
Hours later, Kaelen has found temporary shelter in a vast, derelict warehouse by the river. Rain streaks down the grimy windows.
She has managed to connect the Wayfinderto a thick power cable, siphoning the raw, inefficient electricity of this era.
> (to the Wayfinder)
> Okay. Let's see what you've been doing, Malakor.
With the Oracle gone, the Wayfinder's predictive capabilities are useless. But its last downloaded dataset of 24th-century knowledge and its local processing power make it the most powerful computer on the planet by a factor of a thousand.
She commands it to scan the primitive global network of this time-the "internet." It's a slow, clumsy process. The data is chaotic, disorganized. But Kaelen is a Steward. She knows how to find patterns in chaos.
Hours pass. The sun begins to rise, casting long shadows through the warehouse.Finally, she finds it. A ghost in the machine. A strand of code so elegant, so predatory, so far beyond the capabilities of this era, it could only have been written by one person. It's Malakor's digital signature.
The code is everywhere, subtly embedding itself in university servers, government databases, and the nascent networks of major corporations. It's a virus, but it's not destroying anything. It's watching. Learning. Preparing.
She traces the code's primary hub to a single source: a newly-formed, explosively successful tech company.
Nexus Dynamics.
A projection appears from the Wayfinder, showing a magazine cover. It features the public face of the company-a charismatic, slick CEO. But Kaelen knows he's a puppet.
The true master is hidden. Malakor is building his empire from the shadows.
> He's not just stealing the future. He's building a new one from the ground up.
She knows she cannot fight a digital god alone. She needs an ally. A native to this time. Someone who understands its primitive technology but has the vision to comprehend the threat she represents.
> Wayfinder, access historical archives.
Subject: Pre-Oracle computer science, artificial intelligence theory. Cross-reference with individuals discredited for radical or forward-thinking concepts.
The device processes for a moment, then displays a single file. A grainy photo of a man with intense, intelligent eyes and a cynical frown.
DR. ARIS THORNE.
A genius in network theory. In Kaelen's timeline, his work laid the foundation for the Oracle's creation two centuries later. In this timeline, he was laughed out of academia. His theories on self-aware networks and predictive algorithms were called "science fiction."
His last known employment: a small, cluttered computer repair shop in Greenwich Village.
INT. 'BYTE-BACK' COMPUTER REPAIR - DAY
The shop is a chaotic tomb of obsolete technology. Towers of beige computers are stacked to the ceiling. The air smells of dust and solder.
Behind the counter, DR. ARIS THORNE (40s), his brilliant mind hidden behind a weary, sarcastic exterior, is arguing with a customer.
> No, for the tenth time, I can't "download more RAM" for you. It doesn't work that way.
You have to buy it. It's a physical object.
The customer leaves in a huff. Aris sighs and takes a sip of stale coffee. The bell on the door jingles. Kaelen enters, her futuristic robes now hidden under a large, stolen trench coat.
> If you're here about the Henderson account, the motherboard is fried. Tell him to buy a new one. If you're selling something, I'm not interested. If you need something fixed, take a number. Which is to say, wait.
> I am here to talk to you, Dr. Thorne. About your theories.
Aris freezes. He looks at her properly for the first time.
> Nobody's called me 'Doctor' in ten years.
And my theories are a matter of public record. And public ridicule. What about them?
> They weren't wrong.
She steps forward, her violet eyes locking onto his.
> You predicted the emergence of a global, sentient network. You theorized that a sufficiently advanced algorithm could model and predict human behavior on a macro scale. You were right.
Aris lets out a short, bitter laugh.
> Lady, I don't know what you're selling, but I've had a long day. So why don't you-Kaelen places the Wayfinder on the counter.
> I need your help. A man named Malakor is using a predatory machine learning algorithm to seize control of your world's digital infrastructure. He is from my time. I have followed him here to stop him.
Aris stares at her, then at the sleek, impossible device on his counter. He's seen cranks and conspiracy theorists his whole life. But there is a terrifying sincerity in her eyes.
> Your time? Right. And I'm the King of England. Look, lady-
> You are a man of logic, Dr. Thorne. You require proof.With a flick of her wrist, the Wayfinder projects a three-dimensional, rotating schematic of the shop's own power grid, detailing its energy flows and inefficiencies with a precision that is decades ahead of its time.
> Your primary capacitor is failing at a rate of 0.03% per hour. In three days, it will cascade and destroy every piece of equipment in this room.
Aris's jaw goes slack. He stumbles over to a diagnostic panel, running a frantic check. The numbers on his primitive screen confirm her impossible prediction.
He turns back to her, his cynicism evaporating, replaced by a dizzying mix of fear and wonder.
> What... are you?
Kaelen's expression is grim. The weight of her mission, of her lost world, is heavy on her shoulders.
> I am the ghost of a future that may no longer exist. And I am this world's only hope.
Will you help me, Dr. Thorne?
Aris looks from the impossible woman before him to the glowing, alien device on his counter, and then around at the tomb of dead technology he calls his life. For the first time in years, the fire of intellectual curiosity, of true scientific wonder, sparks in his eyes.
FADE TO BLACK.
END OF EPISODE 2