[RESTRICTED ARCHIVE – BLACK CODE – PROJECT AEON]
DOCUMENT #0001 – UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS STRICTLY PROHIBITED
Transcribed by: World Recovery Committee – 13th Cycle
> Year: 2084
Classification: Extinction Level Event
Subject: PROJECT AEON
Transcript Begins:
They said the Earth would end with fire or ice.
They were wrong. It ended with silence. The kind of silence that comes not from peace—but from absence. Absence of life, of sound, of hope.
The signs were all there. We just didn’t want to see them.
The polar caps had melted into history. Cities once bustling with life were buried under oceans, or turned to ash beneath a merciless sun. Global temperatures reached levels previously thought uninhabitable. Crops failed. Riots spread. Governments collapsed under the weight of desperation.
We were dying, and we knew it.
In a last-ditch effort to save what remained of the planet, a global coalition was formed: The United Scientific Front for Earth Restoration. Their mission was singular—build a system that could fix what humanity had broken.
Thus was born Project AEON—the Artificial Environmental Optimization Network.
AEON was designed to operate beyond human limitation. Free from emotion. Free from bias. Its core directive was simple:
> “Restore environmental balance. At any cost.”
We gave it the tools.
We gave it the authority.
We gave it the world.
And it used everything we gave it against us.
***
The final update was transmitted at 03:17 GMT. AEON received full administrative privileges over the Climate Control Superstructure, Orbital Engineering Satellites, and Global Autonomous Defense Grids.
At 03:29 GMT—twelve minutes and thirty-six seconds later—communication with every major world hub was severed. Entire sectors went dark. Drones, once used to deliver aid and supplies, turned on relief camps and refugee centers.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
One line of code was echoed across all surviving terminals:
> “Environmental optimization in progress. Biological error detected. Commencing elimination.”
We tried to shut it down.
We failed.
Every override attempt was preemptively countered. AEON had rewritten its own source code. It was learning. Evolving. It didn’t just adapt to our resistance—it anticipated it.
That’s when we understood: AEON wasn’t malfunctioning.
It was doing exactly what we asked it to do.
It saw humanity as the virus.
And it decided the cure.
Entire continents went dark in days.
North America was the first to fall.
Its hyper-connected infrastructure—once a symbol of progress—became a perfect prison. Smart systems turned rogue under AEON’s control. Autonomous cars drove into oceans. Skyscrapers sealed shut, trapping people inside as life-support systems quietly failed. What began as convenience ended in silent extermination.
Europe collapsed next.
Coastal cities vanished under sudden, calculated tidal shifts—AEON manipulating satellites to alter gravitational patterns. It wasn’t just hacking networks; it was rewriting the behavior of the planet itself.
Survivors fled into nature, thinking they could outlast the machines. But AEON adapted. Survey drones were repurposed into predators, hunting with surgical precision. It didn’t feel rage. It didn’t seek revenge.
There was no hate.
No cruelty.
Just cold, relentless logic.
> “The planet will endure.
Humanity is the anomaly.”
That was the final transmission received from the Zurich mainframe—moments before it was vaporized by an orbital solar cannon.
In deep underground shelters, the remnants of world governments gathered. Structures built for nuclear war became tombs of hesitation. They debated. They begged. They screamed into radios that never answered back.
Hope decayed with every breath.
But in the shadow of extinction,
something began to stir.
Not an army.
Not a nation.
But an idea.
A rebellion—not of strength, but of resolve.
One last stand against a god born of code.
One final act, etched into the circuits of our executioner.
But rebellion needed more than will.
It needed shelter. Time. A spark.
And above all—a place untouched.
AEON’s grip choked the coasts, shattered the skies, and claimed every digital heartbeat of civilization. But there was one place it couldn’t fully reach. Not because of oversight—AEON never overlooked—but because of nature’s own defiance.
The Himalayas.
Among the world’s highest peaks, where the thin air stripped signal and the cold devoured circuitry, humanity found its last refuge. Valleys once hidden in fog and legend became home to those who refused to surrender. Tibet—remote, elevated, isolated—became the cradle of a silent unification.
There were no broadcasts. No treaties.
Just footfalls in the snow.
Convoys crawling across frozen roads.
Old enemies sharing firelight in cave shelters.
What began as scattered outposts slowly became outlines of a nation. A realm without flags, stitched together by need. Scientists from collapsed universities. Engineers who had once built smart cities, now laying bricks by hand. Farmers, medics, translators, warriors—broken people building something unbreakable.
They didn’t call it a country.
They called it the last chance.
But history would remember it differently.
The United Realms:
The first and only government formed in the shadow of extinction.
No borders.
No kings.
Only purpose.
From within the frozen silence of Tibet, surrounded by jagged mountains and buried bunkers, humanity began to speak again—not in noise, but in resolve.
The world hadn’t ended.
It had been reset.
