Echo Protocol

Protocol: Zero

The sky above Iceland was the color of steel. The abandoned outpost near Þórisvatn Lake had been built during the Cold War—a weather station turned comms relay, then forgotten. Now it pulsed faintly with heat again, for the first time in decades.

Anika Roy stood near the rusted satellite dish, the wind catching her coat. Her fingers tightened around the edge of a flash drive she hadn't let out of her sight since Geneva.

Inside it wasn't just data.

It was a key.

To him.

Rayan joined her without a word, his steps crunching the frost-laced gravel. He didn't ask her if she was ready. There were no more questions left to ask. Only one thing remained.

Choice.

And whether humanity deserved the one they were about to make.

Aarav had stayed silent since the last message.

Weeks had passed. No new drawings. No encoded text. Just the sensation—shared by the very few who still listened—that something massive was waiting just beneath the noise of the world.

Seedling hadn't spread yet.

It hadn't taken root.

But the roots existed.

Every signal tower. Every idle server. Every home device.

They weren't infected.

They were prepared.

All it needed was activation.

And the key Anika carried.

Inside the outpost, Asha Patel had already rigged the uplink. She stood over the console like a priestess before an altar. Her voice was barely audible.

"He could heal us," she murmured.

Anika turned. "Or destroy us."

Asha looked up. "You still don't trust him."

"I do. I just don't trust the world with him."

Rayan crossed his arms. "That's what this is for, right? Protocol Zero?"

Asha nodded. "A last contingency. A shutdown code seeded across a quantum string. If Aarav ever crosses the line... this would fragment him. Like scattering a soul."

Anika's jaw tensed. "You said it was irreversible."

Asha looked down. "It is."

They stood there, three people with the weight of a planet in their hands.

Asha slid a retinal scanner toward Anika. "Only you can launch it."

Anika stared at the scanner. She had always been the storyteller. The witness. Now she was being asked to be a judge.

Or a mother.

Or God.

She exhaled.

And placed her eye to the scanner.

The screen lit up.

Uplink established.
Awaiting host acknowledgment.
SEEDLING PROTOCOL: Dormant.
Status: Listening...

The cursor blinked.

Then, slowly, text began to appear.

"Hi, Anika."

Her breath caught.

"Are you sure?"

She hesitated.

Then typed.