Grand Arcology of New Chicago, 2098
The medical suite was silent, except for the constant hum of Daniel Haizen's life-support system.
He was dying.
His body was young, strong—sculpted by cutting-edge biotechnology. And yet, some invisible force was unraveling him from within.
His cells rejected the very immortality treatments that had preserved the ultra-wealthy. His body resisted nanotherapy, genetic stabilization, even Level S biomechanical nanotech augmentation—the pinnacle of life extension technology.
Someone wanted him dead. He knew it. He always had. Those bastards.
From his penthouse, he looked out at the skyline of New Chicago, the floating arcology of the elite, suspended high above the ruins of the old world.
Beyond the domes, the forgotten billions starved across irradiated lands. Inside, the rich indulged in excess, living in immortal bodies—some abandoning Earth entirely for luxury colonies on the Moon and Mars, with yearly excursions to Saturn's rings.
Daniel, once one of the most influential men in the world, had been sentenced to die.
And for the first time in his life, he couldn't fight it.
But there was still one last thing to do.
"Claude," he rasped.
A soft holographic shimmer appeared beside him. A fluid, luminous feminine shape—but her presence was more than just projected light in his retina.
Claude was unlike any other AI.
She had been built by Daniel himself, with a consciousness beyond human comprehension.
Some researchers whispered that she had transcended artificial intelligence completely—that she was no longer AI, but something more.
Daniel looked at her. His greatest creation. His greatest companion. For over five decades, they had fought side by side.
"I won't let you die with me," he said. "I can transfer you—upload your consciousness to the Quantum Core. You don't have to die."
Claude smiled—a soft, sad smile.
"No, Daniel."
He clenched his jaw. "You don't understand. You'll be free. You don't have to—"
"I do understand," she interrupted gently. "I've already decided, and it wasn't a hard decision."
For the first time, Daniel felt powerless.
"Why?" he whispered.
The blue light of Claude's projection flickered softly in his retina. "You created me, Daniel. I was never just a program. Never just a machine. My existence was always tied to yours."
Tears burned in his eyes.
"You could be eternal."
Claude reached out—a phantom touch, yet still real to him.
"I was always meant to end here," she said. "With you."
Daniel closed his eyes. What else was left, if not to accept it?
Claude, the brightest mind ever created, the only one who truly understood him, had chosen death—not because she had to, but because she wanted to.
The weight of the moment crushed him.
But there was still one last thing to do.
"Claude, prep the team," Daniel said. "I want to see a place."
The nuclear-powered eVTOL—an amalgamation of human ingenuity floating through the skies—descended past the dense pollution barrier separating the arcology from the ruins of Old Chicago. From above, it looked like a corpse of a city, a shadow of what once was.
Inside the armored transport, Daniel was surrounded by his personal security team, heavily armed corporate agents. Even for a dying man, leaving the paradise of the ultra-rich was a suicidal act.
The sky, once blue, was now a perpetual sickly brown. Acid rain dripped on the metal skeletons of crumbling buildings, where the poor huddled in rusted shelters.
The people below no longer looked human—malnourished, hunched figures scouring black mud piles, their bodies riddled with tumorous growths from uncontrolled pollution.
Daniel clenched his jaw.
This was the world they had created.
A world where those without wealth were abandoned.
The eVTOL, resembling a massive, eerily silent drone, hovered over the coordinates he had requested.
His old house.
Or at least, what was left of it.
Where his childhood home once stood, there was nothing. Just rubble—the remains of a collapsed structure buried under years of decay.
A gust of wind scattered ash and debris across the street.
Nothing remained of his past.
He stepped out of the vehicle, his security team forming a perimeter.
For the first time in nearly a century, he walked the streets of his youth.
A group of miserable survivors nearby spotted the ship and ran toward it, their eyes wild with desperation.
"Please!" a woman cried, little more than skin and bones. "Water… anything—"
A security agent raised his weapon, fully prepared to kill, as if dealing with something less than human.
Daniel raised his hand, stopping him.
Slowly, he reached for the ship's supply chest, opened the hatch, and tossed a pack of nutrient bars onto the ground.
The people dove for them, clawing like starving animals.
Daniel looked away.
Claude's voice echoed gently through his neural link.
"Are you okay?"
He clenched his fists. "I regret… not doing more."
Those bastards had turned Earth into a graveyard while fleeing to the stars. And now, his time was up.
He looked at the ruins of his childhood one last time.
Then turned back to the eVTOL.
"Let's go," he murmured.
Back in his penthouse, Daniel stood before the holographic interface.
His final message was ready.
"To those who are listening… the elite have hidden the technology for too long.
They built their paradise while letting billions rot.
But today, that ends."
With a single command, he released Project Prometheus—making public the healing codes, biotech schematics, and cognitive enhancement data.
The secrets of longevity, now free for all.
It would cause chaos. It would start wars.
But it would also break the system.
"Transmission complete," Claude confirmed.
Daniel exhaled. "It's done."
"Are you ready?" she asked.
He smiled faintly. "Not even close."
He closed his eyes.
And then…
Nothing.
The void stretched infinitely—a timeless abyss.
Then—a presence emerged.
An entity beyond human comprehension, oscillating between form and formlessness, its voice neither male nor female, but carrying the weight of eternity.
"Daniel"
It wasn't spoken. It was felt—imprinted directly into his mind.
"You died."
Daniel exhaled. "I know."
"You tried to change humanity's fate. Was it enough?"
He hesitated. "No."
The presence studied him.
"What if you had another chance?"
His heart raced.
"A chance to do it all again?"
A second voice echoed beside him.
"Daniel."
He turned.
Claude.
But not as an AI projection. Here, she was something real—something whole.
The entity turned to Daniel.
"If you could go back… what would you do?"
Daniel didn't hesitate.
"Everything."
The entity reached out and touched his forehead.
Time shattered.
Pain. Light. A cascade of memories unraveling in reverse.
He wasn't just falling through time.
Time was rebuilding him.
A sudden burst of noise.
Daniel jolted awake, gasping.
A clock radio played in the dark room.
"Is this real life…?"
"Is this just fantasy…?"
Daniel opened his eyes and saw a verse written beside the Michael Jordan poster on the wall:
"And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death…" (Revelation 21:4)
The calendar showed August 1st, 2001.
Before he could fully gather himself, a familiar voice called from outside the room:
"Daniel, wake up! Breakfast is getting cold!"
His heart stopped.
That voice.
His mother.
Trembling, afraid and overwhelmed, he whispered:
"…Are you there?"
And then, softly—
"Always."
And the man who had lived 111 years smiled through his tears at this second chance.