Saints in a Chip

The elevator descended too fast, the world above them blurring in a flash as the numbers on display dropped rapidly from the ground floor to -1, -2, and continuing deeper to -10.

Jude shifted his posture, trying to adjust to the cold that seeped into his bones. The elevator walls felt almost claustrophobic, as if they were surrounded by the quiet hum of machinery and the punctuated ping of the elevator as they reached each successive floor. The lower they went, the more the temperature dropped until Jude could see his breath forming small clouds.

He stole a glance at Agatha and the Marshal, noting their composed expressions despite the descent.

Finally, they reached the last floor, and as the elevator doors slid open, Jude stepped out into an expansive chamber glowing with a neon blue light. His breath caught in his throat at the sight before him: thousands of pods aligned in precise rows, forming an almost towering structure that stretched out as far as the eye could see. Each pod glimmered a soft blue with a faint hum of machinery reverberating through the air.

Agatha, spreading her arms wide, embracing the entire space, announced, “Welcome to the Phantom Zone!” Her voice rang with excitement as she walked into the room.

“Do all these pods belong to Watchers?” Jude wondered aloud, looking up as he took in the scale of the operation.

“Yes, this is where we house their consciousness, which is connected to the grid and ready to assist in the fight against the Eidolon. Each pod represents a mind, a soldier, all linked to our simulation.”

The sheer magnitude of it all was overwhelming for Jude. “So, this is where it all happens?” he asked, glancing at the rows and columns of pods.

He looked around at all the machinery, the flickering blue neon charts, lifelines, and various data displays that danced across the screens. “Are these all the people inside?” he questioned. “I mean inside the simulation?”

“Some since day one,” the Marshal chimed in, placing a reassuring hand over his shoulder.

Jude’s gaze travelled back to the pods, each one a small world unto itself, containing the consciousness of individuals who had willingly joined the fight. “How many?” he asked.

“Thousands; Agatha will have the exact numbers,” the Marshal clarified. “They all volunteered to become part of this initiative, to enhance our capabilities in ways we never thought possible. Some of them are pioneers in their fields, others seasoned fighters. Or just anonymous heroes, who knows.”

They walked slowly past the rows of pods, the hum of machinery becoming louder than their footsteps. Jude began to notice a pattern; most of the occupants were elders, their faces distorted by age. Some even resembled living dehydrated mummies encased in glass, their chests barely rising and falling with shallow breaths. Jude had a foul taste in his mouth as he took in the grim reality that they were walking in a living graveyard. But amidst all the coffins, he spotted her.

She looked like a princess under a spell, sleeping profoundly, her golden sun-kissed skin glowing softly under the blue lights. Glossy chestnut hair framed her hebe face. Jude felt an inexplicable pull toward her.

Her hands were crossed over her chest, and as he examined her more closely, his gaze fell upon her left hand. He noticed that one of her pinkie fingers had been amputated. Yet, it didn’t make her less beautiful, and she looked so young. How long was she here? She was perhaps one of the last Watchers to join.

“Who is this?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped closer, captivated by her.

“That is number one, Helena Troy. The first Watcher to ever face an Eidolon one-on-one and survived. The first to be connected to the Phantom Zone. She is the titanium of this project,” Agatha explained, her pride evident in her voice.

“The first? That means she is over a century…” Jude said, baffled.

“She was connected when she was turning 45,” Agatha clarified, her tone measured. “She will be 145 next month.”

"45? She looks younger than me!" Jude’s brow furrowed. “How?”

“An act of God, as we call it in the science field, who knows…” Agatha replied. “There is no explanation for why she isn’t ageing.”

Jude moved closer to Helena’s pod, studying her features again. She looked serene as if caught in a perpetual dream. “So, she’s been in this state for a century?”

For the first time since they arrived at the phantom chamber, the Secretary made herself heard. “Well, in the Catholic faith—at least according to Vatican beliefs—this is how saints are recognized. The body is found to be incorrupt after death, leading to veneration and canonization by the Pope. I’m an atheist, but this makes you think, doesn’t it? Troy is not the only one spared by time,” Secretary Williams explained contemplatively. “That’s the reason why we call them Saints around here—Saints in a Chip—it’s catchy.”

Jude absorbed her words, trying to grasp the broader significance of the place around him. The idea that the deceased somehow maintained peace on Earth shifted in Jude’s mind. It was no longer just a romantic notion; it had become their reality.

“We lost contact with Troy decades ago,” the Marshal explained, his voice heavy, resonating with a tone that felt like someone delivering the news of a death. “We used to have monthly meetings, but those were quickly replaced by the reports we’ve shown you. We are completely blindsided about what is happening inside the System.”

“When was the last time you communicated with them?” Jude asked.

“60 years ago, well before my mandate.” The Marshal explained, “Since we had the reports, nobody was too much worried about it. But now that we know the reports are shady… makes you think, doesn’t it?”

“The longer she remains disconnected, the more we risk losing everything we fought for,” Secretary Williams continued. “Without her, we’re navigating in the dark.”

“I don’t understand why me... I’ve run hundreds of simulations, and my abilities do not work on Eidolons,” Jude said, turning to face each one of them. “I can only beat them with cheats.”

The Marshal's expression shifted to one of sombre seriousness, while Secretary Williams wouldn’t even meet his gaze, her focus fixed on a random screen. Only Agatha looked him in the eye, her hands fidgeting nervously.

“It’s not the Eidolons we’re worried about,” Agatha said cautiously. “Your ability works... on humans.”

Jude’s eyes widened in realization. “You want me to be a mole!” The words spilt out before he could contain his reaction, the gravity of the suggestion hitting him like a blow.

“Yes,” Agatha confirmed. “We need someone who can infiltrate the ranks, someone who can gather information from the inside. You have the unique ability to read thoughts and influence actions, which could provide us with invaluable insights.”

Jude shook his head. “You’re asking me to betray my own kind. To become a spy within our ranks?”

The Marshal stepped forward, his expression firm. “Jude, this isn’t about betrayal; it’s about survival. The information you could uncover might save countless lives. We’re in a war where every advantage matters, and we need someone with your skills to help us navigate in the dark.”

“But what if I can’t come back?” Jude pressed the weight of the decision heavy on his shoulders. “What if I get caught? I am going to be a dad... Marta is due at any moment.”

Agatha’s eyes softened as she took a step closer. “We are planning a stay of seven days. We’ll do everything we can to support you. You won’t be alone in this. We’ll have plans in place and contingencies for every scenario. But right now, we’re running out of options. We need you.”

Jude felt the tension in the room envelop him, the stakes rising higher than ever. He took a deep breath, weighing the risks against the potential rewards. This was more than just a mission; it was a chance to make a difference, to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.

"But Marta..."

“We are willing to pay generously for your work. 30 coins,” Secretary Williams interjected, stepping forward.

“GLD?” Jude asked, feeling his ledger device hitching in his pocket.

“GoldenCoin? Let’s be real, Jude. You need direct access to the money. We’re willing to pay in SilverCoin. Hence, 30 SLD. If we round it in euros, that’s about 3 MIL EUR.”

Jude’s heart raced at the figures being thrown around. “In GLD, it would be 15 MIL EUR.” He glanced around the room, gauging the reactions, but it was clear the negotiation was between him and the Marshal.

“I have a son, a baby on the way,” Jude continued, his voice firm but about to crack. “If I can’t be with Marta, she needs all the help she can get. This isn’t just about me anymore; it’s about providing for my family. Come on, John, you have your own family; you understand me, right?”

The room fell silent as his words hung in the air. The Marshal’s expression softened, understanding the stakes involved. “We recognize that, Jude. That’s why we’re offering a substantial sum. Marta will be taken care of."

“Refusal to serve in a military capacity is classified as a criminal offence and an act of treason under the laws of the United Global States. It is strongly advised to consider the serious implications of such a decision. If I were you, I would take this offer,” Secretary Williams stated, her voice cold, a demeanour that strangely seemed natural to her.

Jude felt a chill run down his spine at her words. He could feel the weight of the threat and the consequences he could face if he chose to walk away. He tried to look into her eyes, searching for any hint of compassion, but he found only his reflection in her sunglasses.

“So, you’re saying I have no choice?” Jude replied, trying to keep his voice steady despite the unease swirling within him. "Did I have ever had a choice?"

“It’s not about choice; it’s about duty,” she retorted. “You have a unique ability that can help us turn the tide in this war. We need you, and you know that. If you refuse, you’re not just letting down your fellow citizens; you’re putting your own world and family at risk.”

Jude swallowed hard. He was acutely aware of the stakes involved, not just for himself but also for Marta and their unborn child. The thought of facing legal repercussions made him feel trapped between his instincts and his obligations.

“Be the traitor or be the traitor; the choices are as limited as the options at any supermarket lately,” Jude muttered, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Regret washed over him like a wave, crashing relentlessly against the shores. He shouldn’t have left the apartment today. He should have stayed with Marta, wrapped up in warm blankets as they talked about the colour of the nursery. They could have laughed about paint swatch names, tossing around ideas and making stupid jokes.

Instead, he was here.

He wished he made breakfast without the bad avocados or the anxiety that now gripped him. He wanted to be there for the birth of their son, to hold Marta’s hand as she brought their child into the world. He wanted to help choose a name and see if it would have five or four fingers.

Instead, he found himself standing in this sterile chamber, surrounded by machinery and the ghosts of those who had sacrificed so much, if not everything. Those who he should betray. Every fibre of his being screamed to run away. To throw those sunglasses from their faces to the ground and step on them until nothing was left.

Anything but being here.

“Seven days?” he asked.

“Seven days, son,” confirmed the Marshal.

Jude felt a knot tighten in his stomach. “Can I at least think about this? Or start after my son is born?” he asked, knowing the answer already.

“Son, you have no choices left,” the Marshal replied.

“What a time to live…” Jude clicked his tongue, trying hard to hold back tears that threatened to spill.

“Can I at least call Marta, please?”