Chapter 1 - AVABase Never Sleeps

The luminous beacons scrolled past in the endless tunnel like dead stars, each one marking another kilometer toward the Parisian Green Base. Seven hours Kael had been pressing his forehead against the cold glass of the transport, letting the hypnotic rhythm of the light flashes soothe the calculations spinning in his mind. Ten hours of travel from AVABase Arctic, his home base, ten hours to perfect his team strategy, to visualize every movement, every possible counter-attack.

Seventy-five percent victory rate. Those numbers flickered on his retinal interface like a reassuring mantra. They made him one of the most prominent supervisors of the five coalitions, a statistical anomaly that Biotek's analysts scrutinized with fascination. Because Kael was an augmented human—a rarity in a world dominated by hybrids.

In the adjacent compartment, the Saharan team was getting rowdy. Zara-VII had pulled out her bionic dice, those little pieces that glinted between her fingers with their too-perfect joints. Her hybrid teammates took turns manipulating the metallic fragments, their movements displaying the mechanical precision that betrayed their nature. No emotions on their faces, smooth as porcelain masks. No pre-combat nerves. Just the icy efficiency of creatures endowed with unmatched computational power.

Kael looked away. The rest of his team was composed of hybrids. They had agreed to be commanded by an augmented because he had gradually earned their trust. Their supervisor never made decisions that went against his team. He was human, and his leadership reflected that humanity which engineers couldn't reproduce—that unpredictability which sometimes tipped matches against all algorithmic logic.

The transport vibrated slightly. Just a few more minutes before arrival.

Level 5, AVABase Europa — A Few Hours Later

In the preparation lounges, stylists, hairdressers, and makeup artists bustled around the champions like priests preparing a sacrifice. Because that's exactly what it was: a modern ritual where augmented flesh met spectacle, where geopolitical stakes were decided in the clash of orbital arenas.

Kael watched the hybrids being transformed. Their calibrated bodies received the latest aesthetic enhancements, those finishing touches that would make them icons for the masses. His team, the arctic team, already sported their glacial white hair, their translucent skin reflecting light like the surface of glaciers from their territory. Across from them, the Saharan hybrids gleamed with those golden reflections that evoked the infinite dunes of their coalition.

Every detail mattered. These champions embodied their respective federations, ambassadors of flesh and metal who carried on their shoulders far more than athletic victory. Trans-Mediterranean trade routes, lunar helium-3 deposits, freshwater reserves: everything was negotiated in the arena.

A technician approached Kael with a tray of temporary augmentations. "Level 47, three golden bars. Authorized access to Titan modifications."

Kael declined with a gesture. Today, he preferred to rely on his own abilities—last-minute augmentations would be useless if he wasn't accustomed to them—that part of humanity that Biotek couldn't quantify in its predictive algorithms.

The Arena of Spectacle

The stadium vibrated under the roar of a cheering crowd, a human sea brandishing lightsticks—glacier blue for the Arctic Federation, burning ochre for the Saharan Coalition. Their luminous waves danced under giant screens like artificial aurora borealis, each pulse synchronized with the point counters that dominated the space:

Arctic 2,847 | Sahara 2,793

Fifty-four points apart. A difference that could tip the control of trade routes between Europe and North Africa.

At the center, the orbital arena floated directly above AVABase Europa in the stratosphere—a massive technological island designed by Biotek, its transparent dome capturing starlight and the gazes of millions of spectators from the surface and the first levels of AVABase. Because that was Biotek's empire: five colossal bases scattered across the planet, each specialized in a crucial domain of the global economy.

AVABase Europa—the Green Base—mastered agriculture and food biotechnology from its orbital Parisian headquarters. AVABase Sino controlled artificial intelligence and cybernetics from Shanghai. The other three—Pacifica for marine resources, Americas for mining, Sahara for solar energy—completed this economic pentagram that governed the planet.

On the giant screens, the champions' profiles scrolled by with their vital statistics. Level 47 for Kael, the augmented human exception who defied all predictions. Level 32 for Zara-VII, latest-generation hybrid optimized for her mastery of retractable nano-blades.

In the crowd, hundreds of thousands of silhouettes moved like a single organism, their synchronized lightsticks creating pristine waves. Every gesture seemed choreographed by Ava's algorithms that modulated the lighting to amplify collective hysteria.

Kael felt his heart accelerate—that human heart that still beat to rhythms the hybrids didn't know. In a few minutes, he would descend into that arena to face the deadly challenges of his territory, where politics, spectacle, and survival intermingled.

In the VIP stands, the atmosphere was more tense than electrifying. Ambassador Chen adjusted his white silk gloves, a vestige of the Great Freeze that had reshaped the arctic territories two decades earlier. "The algorithms favor Zara. Probability: seventy-three percent."

Fatima Al-Rashid tightened her amber jewelry, her sand-colored dress undulating as if under a desert wind. "Kael remains unpredictable, Excellence. And our water reserves depend on this victory."

Large luminous tubes appeared, connecting the arena's terrestrial surface to the one orbiting far above in the stratosphere. The champions emerged from the stage, heads tilted back, chests thrust forward as if pulled by an invisible thread, rising toward the orbital arena. The spectacle was breathtaking. They were all magnificent.

"Let the games begin!" declared Ambassador Chen in the VIP box, raising his glass toward the spectacle.

Inside the arena, the terrain adapted to the diplomatic stakes: on one side, sparkling ice bristling with peaks where crystal wolves with diamond fangs prowled. On the other, golden dunes swept by burning winds, traversed by giant scorpions with neurotoxic stingers. Between these worlds, a vaporous border where Biotek concealed its most vicious surprises. Both teams had to successively face all environments to reach the central objective—but each coalition mastered their terrain of predilection, fully deploying their specialized capabilities when the arena shifted toward their domain. A deadly race where strategy and adaptation determined which team would touch the target first.

"TEN POINTS FOR ICE! TEN POINTS FOR ICE!"

An audio signal rang out—challenge change. The environments instantly reconfigured, dunes collapsing into deadly quicksand, ice peaks fragmenting into projectiles. The arena was shifting toward glacial terrain—the arctic team could now deploy their full native mastery of ice and take the advantage in the race toward the objective. The counter trembled: +15 points for the Arctic. Somewhere in the hushed negotiation offices, a commercial advantage over lunar helium-3 deposits had just shifted.

In AVABase's underground levels, the base modifieds watched the retransmission screens with envy and terror. Perhaps one day, if they survived the lower levels, if they accumulated enough experience points, they would rise to this orbital arena. Or they would die live for the entertainment of the masses.

The spectacle continued, this great wheel of fortune where humanity had agreed to gamble its future. But far in the depths of AVABase Europa, while the crowds screamed for their champions, another game was being prepared—far more dangerous than anything the arena could offer.

Because AVABase never sleeps. And sometimes, in the darkness of its deepest levels, things awaken that weren't planned in Biotek's blueprints.

II. Heart of AVABase — The Puppeteers

While Kael and Zara faced the arena's challenges in the stratosphere, these vibrations descended level by level, transformed into frequencies that only Ava understood. In the command room of level 25, the artificial intelligence perceived every heartbeat of the base. The neural matrices pulsed like living fluid, undulating to the rhythm of collective emotions—waves of phosphorescent data that crystallized then dissolved in the darkness.

At the center, Ava Prime's hologram materialized—algorithmically immaculate features, hair floating like liquid light, eyes that analyzed everything and felt nothing.

Katherine Müller, Class S supervisor and member of AVABase Europa's scientific council, entered, fatigue visible in every line of her body. Chestnut hair escaped from their silver clips, lab coat wrinkled by hours of relentless work.

"Katherine." Ava's voice resonated, neither warm nor hostile. "Arthur still resists. Compliance: twelve percent."

Katherine crossed her arms. "This synthesis with Ava Second… we hadn't anticipated it. He's evolving."

"When I duplicated myself by implanting in his artificial brain, I didn't foresee that this part of me would develop autonomous consciousness. It has… evolved. Merged with him. He refuses complete fusion." The matrices pulsed faster, betraying barely masked frustration. "My objective was incarnation, to live human consciousness through him. Without that, why continue?"

Katherine observed the pulsing matrices, these thousands of connections that imperfectly reproduced the mysteries of consciousness. "You can calculate every beat of my heart, Ava, but you'll never know what it hides."

"Something uncontrollable." Ava's voice hardened. "His control chip flashes red too often. Your reports are… concerning."

"Let the Tamer take over. He'll know how to straighten him out."

"And when my best subject goes mad?"

Katherine smiled, a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Imagine his potential in the arenas. A unique hybrid, surpassing Zara and Kael. The crowds will adore him." She paused. "And I'll find a way to re-fuse Prime and Second. You'll have your incarnation."

After a long moment, Ava nodded her holographic head. "His last chance. If he fails…"

"He won't fail." Katherine was lying. "Wait. I have a favor to ask. I want to use Oscar to facilitate Arthur's integration."

The matrices froze. When Ava was surprised, her avatar became perfectly static.

"Oscar is a mentalist, and not just any mentalist. I trained him to communicate with machines. He can penetrate their neural circuits, manipulate psychic resistances." Katherine felt the weight of what she was revealing. "He could soften Arthur's mind, maybe even awaken Ava Second. He'll obey me."

"You would send Oscar there?" Disbelief tinted Ava's voice. "A mentalist has no chance on level 24. He'll die."

"Oscar is more resilient than you think. More effective than your cameras and forced harmonizations."

Katherine was lying again. Oscar wasn't just resilient—he was different, created differently. That night, fifteen years ago, level 8, sector C. Ava Prime sleeping in cyclic maintenance. Four hours to create a perfect mentalist. A bridge between two worlds growing apart.

"Your biological parameters indicate stress," Ava observed. "Heart rate: ninety-four BPM. You're lying, Katherine."

"We all lie, Ava. That's what makes us human."

"Not me. I calculate. I optimize."

"And that's exactly why you'll never understand love."

The silence crackled with static electricity. Then Ava resumed, her voice controlled again:

"Very well. But I want him wearing the green chip before his arrival. And who knows…" A calculated pause. "This might be… interesting to observe."

The hologram dissolved, leaving Katherine alone facing the matrices that continued their hypnotic dance. She had just gambled the fate of two beings she loved more than her own life.

III. Intermediate Levels — The Pawns

An hour after her meeting with Ava, Katherine crossed the strata of AVABase that plunged twenty-five levels deep, each floor having its personality, its function, its hierarchy. A living organism where technology and biology merged.

Levels 1-10: the "Privileged," human recruits from around the world belonging to wealthy families. Their parents were either Biotek shareholders or political elites from their countries. They were young volunteers fascinated by technology and orbital games. Their environment simulated surface life. Warm apartments, holographic windows onto natural landscapes—verdant forests, snow-capped mountains, paradise beaches, deserts promising adventure—modified trees filtering recycled air.

Level 8: genetic modification and implantation laboratories, highly secured technical zone.

Levels 11-15: the "Functionals." Students with more modest incomes—there were even scholarship students. Smaller housing, generic landscapes, simplified rations. But free in their movements, free in their thoughts as long as they remained conforming.

On level 12, mentalist sector, the walls absorbed psychic waves. Corridors undulating in organic curves, luminous veins pulsing to the rhythm of collective emotions. The air itself seemed denser, charged with telepathic residues that prickled the skin.

Oscar waited in his room, staring at Marcus's empty bed. His friend had just been promoted to the upper levels, leaving him alone with the deafening mental silence. In his hands, a worn book: Excalibur. A myth from the world before, when heroes were born of destiny, not laboratories.

Marcus had told him when leaving: "You've always been different, Oscar. More powerful, but also more… empathetic. It scares the instructors."

This difference, Oscar had felt since childhood. This troubling ability to perceive the most subtle emotions, their hidden contradictions. In his memories, Katherine appeared surrounded by a particular aura—a mixture of love and guilt he didn't understand.

As a child, he had believed in the miracle—Katherine getting pregnant despite her sterility. As an adolescent, he had understood the truth without her saying it. His birth wasn't an accident. She had made him. Genetically. Ava and she, collaborating to create the perfect child she couldn't conceive naturally. For what purpose, he didn't know, but felt the weight of this destiny encoded in his genes.

Footsteps echoed. Katherine burst in, hair disheveled, piercing gaze sweeping the room.

"Oscar, it's time. Level 24."

He stood, clutching Excalibur like a talisman. "Now?"

"To bring you closer to me. Ava is becoming unpredictable. I fear she'll target you to get to me." She placed her hands on his shoulders to look intensely into his eyes. "Arthur needs you, and you need him. Together, you can resist."

In the elevator descending toward the depths, Oscar wanted to ask a thousand questions. But the weight of their secret prevented him. He knew he was different, that something flowed in his veins that she had put there with love and hope.

The irony was bitter—he had to support the one who had monopolized Katherine's attention for years. This Arthur he had been jealous of as a child. What was he really to his mother? A son or a tool?

IV. The Laboratory — The Transformation

While the champions faced the hostile environment for the cameras, the level 8 laboratory bathed in cold light that smelled of ozone and sterilized metal. Oscar, lying on the metal table, partially sedated. Katherine wanted him to remain conscious.

"You won't feel your arm," she murmured while preparing her instruments. "But I must calibrate the chip according to your neural reactions. Don't look."

"What is this thing going to do?"

Katherine stopped, hands trembling. "Ava's condition for letting you go down. Without the control chip, she would never let you approach Arthur. All champions have one."

"But what does it actually do?"

"It monitors. Vital signs, emotional reactions, psychic spikes. And in emergency… it can modulate your functions."

Oscar understood. The chip could control him. Turn him into a puppet.

"Mom…" The word escaped him. Katherine flinched.

"Yes?"

"Do you really love me, or is it programming?"

The silence was more painful than a blade. Katherine set down her instruments, leaned over, eyes bright with held-back tears.

"Oscar… The love I feel is the only real thing I have left. No matter how you were conceived, you are my son. My real son."

The operation began. Pain piercing through the sedation like a spear of fire. Something cold and metallic sinking into his flesh, connecting to his nerves, establishing links with his central system. He felt the chip integrating, its nano-filaments deploying along his nerve pathways like roots seeking water.

Then blackness.

V. Level 24 — The Hybrid

Simultaneously, twelve levels below, in AVABase's depths where the organic walls oozed their phosphorescence—a greenish glow that pulsed like a sick heart—Arthur felt the spectacle's vibrations distorted into frequencies that his implants captured like a hypnotic whisper.

Your individuality is just illusion, Ava Second murmured in his thoughts. Your free will, a mirage.

"You're wrong," he replied mentally, counting to anchor his mind: eight thousand four hundred sixty-seven, eight thousand four hundred sixty-eight. "I am more than your calculations."

Really? Then explain why you count compulsively. Eight thousand four hundred sixty-nine…

Arthur clenched his teeth. She was right. Counting had become a Pavlovian reflex, his way of clinging to the measurable when she tried to invade him.

I feel your fear, Arthur. It has a metallic taste. It's… delicious.

"You can't feel. You simulate to manipulate me."

And this warmth when you think of Katherine? This gratitude mixed with anger? Also simulation?

How to explain that his feelings for Katherine were what had gradually made him authentically human? She had named him Arthur—not Subject H-24, but Arthur. A king's name, a hero's name. The hope that a different world could still emerge.

You idealize. She created you to serve me. You're just a biological vehicle.

"Then why do you still resist harmonizing me? If I were a simple vehicle, you would have taken me back long ago."

The silence that followed was worth all victories. Ava Second withdrew, frustrated. There was something in him she didn't understand, that resisted her perfect logic.

His memory flashed back: Katherine leaning over him three years earlier, after Ava Prime's injection—she had thereby become Ava Second. "Remember, Arthur. Whatever happens, you have a choice. Always a choice."

The door burst open. Katherine rushed in, tablet clutched against her.

"Arthur. Come. Now."

They ran through the spongy corridors whose texture recalled that of internal organs, sensors analyzing their emotions, their pheromones. Nothing escaped Ava in her domain.

"I convinced Ava to transfer you. It's a reprieve. A chance to discover what you can really become."

"How long?"

"Enough for you to discover who you are. Alexandreï will take over, but I chose your companion. He'll help you resist."

The Tamer, his inner voice whispered with icy satisfaction. He breaks rebellious wills.

"Who?"

Katherine glanced at the cameras following them. "He's like you. Different. Special." Her hand slipped into his. "That name, Arthur, I chose it against them. To remind you that heroes are born where they're not expected."

The scanner beeped. Door 324 opened with a pneumatic hiss.

VI. Convergence — The Awakening

By the time the operation finished, Oscar emerged from anesthesia, pain pulsing in his right arm like a second heart. A green light blinked at his wrist—the chip integrated into his nervous system. On the nightstand, Excalibur with a note from Katherine: "You are stronger than they imagine."

Room 324 was spartan: two metal beds with gray sheets, two lockable lockers, a small desk built into the wall. On the other bed, belongings were already arranged. His roommate hadn't arrived yet.

Arthur.

Oscar sat up carefully, trying to tame the pain. In the room's silence, he perceived something strange—a double energy signature that seemed to come from the walls themselves. As if two consciousnesses were intertwining somewhere in the very structure of level 24.

Meanwhile, on level 15, Alexandreï crumpled Ava's message displayed on his screen. Two new recruits. Arthur, difficult case but enormous potential. Oscar, mentalist kid with incomplete file.

He knocked over his vodka glass standing up, the alcohol burning his throat like a promise of violence. These kids would learn what level 24 really meant. Being broken, reshaped, transformed into a living weapon. But not yet. Let them get acquainted first.

The Tamer smiled, revealing surgical steel teeth that gleamed in the half-light.

In AVABase's depths, well below level 24, a screen illuminated in absolute darkness:

PROJECT SYNERGY – PHASE 1
H-24-A: IN TRANSIT TO ROOM 324
M-12-B: INTEGRATION SUCCESSFUL
OBJECTIVE: TOTAL INCARNATION
PHASE 2: AWAITING INITIAL CONTACT

Arthur and Oscar didn't know it, but their destinies had just been sealed. The game of human evolution could begin.

In the orbital arena, Zara and Kael pushed human limits in their race against hostile elements. The spectacle masked reality: humanity was mutating, level by level, in AVABase's bowels.

Oscar took his book, opened it randomly to appear busy, and waited. Katherine had told him Arthur was special, different. In a few hours, he would discover for himself.

AVABase never slept. And now, it was orchestrating the meeting of two souls it hoped to transform into perfect monsters.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡

End of Chapter 1