Freedom has a sound. And it is horrible.

  I was on the upper deck of the cruiser The Last Breath. The artificial cold was dissipating, replaced by the humid, salty heat of Guanabara Bay.

  Below me, and spread across the entire anchored fleet, chaos reigned.

  Soldiers who minutes before were silent killing machines were now in the fetal position, ripping crystal implants from their own faces, screaming the names of people they had killed or lost.

  Sailors tried to jump into the sea to escape the guilt.

  The "Paradise" of the collective mind was over. The hangover of individuality had arrived, and it came accompanied by repressed memories of cannibalism, murder, and cold.

  "They're going to scuttle the ships," Gristle warned, restraining an officer trying to detonate an antimatter grenade against his own chest. "Panic is contagious, Doctor. If one starts shooting, everyone shoots."

  "Valéria," I said, my voice hoarse, holding the stump of my left arm bandaged with a torn European Union flag. "Connect the ship's PA system to the island's loudspeakers."

  "The system is fried, Arthur. The Babel Code messed everything up."

  "Improvise. Use Luna's Voice." I looked at the singer, who was sitting on an ammo crate, crying silently, overwhelmed by the empathy of so much pain around her.

  "Luna. Stand up. I need you not to feel right now. I need you to command."

  Luna wiped her tears. She grabbed the emergency system microphone, which Valéria had just hardwired into the panel.

  "What do I say?" she asked, voice trembling.

  "Don't say everything is fine. Don't lie." I leaned against the railing, looking at the sea of desperate faces. "Tell them where they are."

  Luna activated her voice. The sound reverberated for miles, a frequency that vibrated in bones and commanded attention.

  "ATTENTION, EXODUS FLEET."

  The collective screaming subsided. Thousands of heads turned to the lead ship.

  I took the microphone from her hand.

  "My name is Arthur Veras. I am the man who killed your God."

  The silence was absolute.

  "The Piper is dead. The network is down. You are alone inside your own heads again."

  "I know it hurts. I know you remember what you ate to survive the nuclear winter. I know you remember who you executed."

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  "But you have a choice now. You can throw yourselves into the sea and finish the job... or you can look at the island in front of you."

  I pointed to Leviathania. The monster's carcass, now illuminated by the morning sun, full of smoke from chimneys and survivor shacks.

  "That is not a refugee camp. It is a nation of monsters, mutants, and survivors who refused to die."

  "We have food. We have heat. And we have enemies."

  "If you want to dock, you are welcome. But the rule is simple: Whoever doesn't work, becomes fertilizer. Whoever tries to impose their law, becomes spare parts."

  I released the microphone button.

  "Valéria, open the docks. Gristle, prepare triage. Anyone with active antimatter weapons must be disarmed or put down."

  "You're tough, Doctor," Gristle smiled, showing her fangs. "I like it."

  Three Weeks Later.

  Leviathania had changed.

  The silhouette of the corpse-island was now bristling with masts and cranes. The Exodus Fleet ships that were beyond repair were dismantled and fused to the Leviathan's ribs, creating floating neighborhoods of metal and crystal.

  European technology (Antimatter and Black Crystal) was being integrated with Brazilian technology (Steam and Biology).

  It was the birth of a new aesthetic: Tropical Necro-Cyberpunk.

  I was in my clinic, built inside the Leviathan's skull.

  Valéria was finishing adjustments on my new arm.

  "All done," she tightened the last screw. "How does it feel?"

  I looked at my left arm.

  It wasn't an ordinary mechanical prosthesis.

  It was a skeleton of Black Crystal (recovered from Admiral Sterling's body), coated in Synthetic Fiber Optic Muscles (The Piper's technology) and connected directly to my nervous system by the Parasite.

  I moved my fingers. They responded instantly, glowing with a soft purple light.

  The arm had no skin. It was translucent, showing the mana circuits running inside it.

  It was cold to the touch, but I felt everything.

  "Grip strength?" I asked.

  "Enough to crush a concrete block or peel a grape," Valéria smiled proudly. "And I installed a small slot in the wrist for you to plug in scalpels or... data drives."

  The Parasite vibrated, exploring the new extension of its domain.

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  "It'll do," I clenched my fist. The purple glow intensified. "Thank you, Valéria."

  Gristle entered the clinic, wearing a new uniform mixing crab leather with NATO armor plates.

  "Boss. We have problems on the northern border."

  "The scouts returned from Minas Gerais. They say the mountains are moving."

  "Moving how? Earthquake?"

  "No. Like the earth is... waking up." Gristle looked worried. "And there's more. We found a repetitive radio transmission coming from the interior."

  She placed a recorder on the table.

  I pressed play.

  It was an old, tired voice, but full of terrible authority.

  "...This is Hélio Veras. Field test number 74. The Incubation Phase has ended. The Hatching Phase is about to begin..."

  "Arthur... if you are listening... bring the scalpel. The patient is ready."

  The air in the room went cold.

  Valéria and Luna looked at me.

  "It's him," I whispered. "My father."

  "The Piper said he was a purist. That he wanted to merge humanity with monsters."

  "He didn't die on Day Zero. He was waiting."

  I stood up, testing the weight of my new arm.

  I walked to the "window" (the Leviathan's empty socket) and looked at the continent.

  The vast, wild, and unknown Brazil stretched beyond the mountains.

  "We survived the sea. We survived the city. We survived the hive mind.

  "But now... we have to face the Origin."

  I turned to my team.

  Valéria (The Architect). Gristle (The General). Luna (The Voice).

  And me. The Surgeon.

  "Prepare the Dreadnought. Stock up on everything we have of antimatter and steam.

  "We're going inland. We're going to find Hélio Veras.

  "And we're going to do a family autopsy."

  The sun set over Leviathania, reflecting off my arm of crystal and flesh.