Jason woke to Nia's voice, gentle but insistent in his mind.
Good morning, Jason. If we're planning to leave in the morning hours as scheduled, you need to begin preparations now.
He blinked, surprised that despite the marathon of lovemaking that had stretched deep into the night, he felt no exhaustion. The nanovirus continued to amaze him with its effects.
Elaine, Marissa, and Lily lay sprawled across his bed, their naked bodies intertwined with his. Elaine's head rested on his chest, her red hair spilling across his skin. Lily had curled against his side, one leg thrown possessively over his. Marissa had somehow ended up perpendicular to everyone else, her head nestled against his thigh.
Jason remained still, drinking in the sight of them. The peaceful rise and fall of their chests. The soft parting of lips in sleep. The scattered marks his mouth and hands had left on their skin.
Three more minutes won't hurt, Nia.
Actually, based on Richard's timeline and accounting for potential delays—
It was rhetorical.
He memorized the moment, knowing that beyond the bunker's door lay a world of unknowns. The mission might take only days, but those days would be filled with dangers none of them could fully predict.
Finally, he leaned down and pressed his lips to Elaine's forehead. Her eyes fluttered open, confusion giving way to recognition.
"Morning already?" she murmured.
"Afraid so."
He kissed Lily next, who stirred with a small groan. "Five more minutes," she mumbled, burrowing deeper against him.
Marissa woke to his touch with surprising alertness, her eyes finding his immediately. "It's time, isn't it?"
They exchanged sleepy good mornings, limbs untangling reluctantly. Jason sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.
"I need to get ready."
Elaine pushed herself up, the sheet falling away from her breasts. She smiled, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "You go shower, darling. I'll prepare breakfast with the girls."
In the shower, Jason let the hot water cascade over him, washing away the night's exertions. He dressed methodically in the tactical outfit they'd prepared—black pants with reinforced knees and multiple pockets, a moisture-wicking shirt, and a jacket designed for maximum mobility. The material felt strange against his skin after months in casual clothes.
Your heart rate has increased by seventeen percent, Nia observed.
"Just the reality setting in," Jason muttered.
He strapped on his military-style backpack, already packed with essentials. Water purification tablets. First aid supplies. Spare underwear and clothes. Protein bars. Extra ammunition.
You haven't forgotten anything, Nia assured him before he could ask. Everything on Richard's checklist is accounted for.
Jason nodded and headed toward the storage room, where Richard was already waiting. His father stood bent over a table, methodically checking the weapons Jason would carry.
"Morning," Jason said.
Richard looked up. "You're right on time."
They worked side by side, organizing the gear in silence. Richard handed him a lightweight bulletproof vest, which Jason slipped on beneath his jacket. He attached his knife to his belt, secured extra magazines in their designated pouches, and holstered his sidearm.
Richard brought over a small drone and its controller. "This will give you eyes where you can't safely go." He placed it carefully atop the backpack. "It can be recharged with this." He unfolded a compact solar panel. "Even minimal sunlight will do."
When everything was ready, Jason slung the backpack over his shoulder and picked up his rifle. The weight felt both foreign and familiar—he'd trained with it extensively over the past weeks, but carrying it with actual purpose was different.
Together, they walked to the kitchen.
Breakfast was a somber affair. The women had made a spread that would have been impressive on any day—eggs, preserved bacon, toast, even coffee. But the food sat heavy in Jason's stomach, each bite accompanied by the weight of eyes watching him, memorizing him.
Lily kept blinking back tears. Marissa's jaw was set in a tight line. Elaine maintained a smile that trembled at the edges.
"You'll be fine," she said, more to herself than to him.
When the plates were cleared, Richard pulled Jason's watch from his pocket. "Everything's ready," he said simply.
Jason strapped it to his wrist, feeling the cool metal against his skin. "Nia?"
Connection stable. All systems optimal, her voice confirmed in his mind.
The entire family walked to the bunker's main door—a massive steel barrier that hadn't been opened since they'd first descended months ago. The time for goodbyes had arrived.
Lily went first, throwing her arms around him. "Come back to me," she whispered, pressing her lips to his with desperate intensity.
Elaine cupped his face in her hands. "My beautiful boy." Her kiss was gentle, lingering. "Be smart. Be safe."
Marissa's face was already wet with tears when she reached him. Her embrace was fierce, her kiss almost bruising. "Don't you dare get yourself killed."
The sight of their tears hit Jason harder than he'd expected. A lump formed in his throat.
"Come on, it's not like I'm going off to war," he said, forcing lightness into his voice. "It's just a few days. We're not even sure if there are people out there."
Elaine's voice trembled. "I don't know what's worse—if there's no one left... or the kind of people you might run into."
Jason nodded slowly. "I'd rather there be survivors. Whether they're good or bad... that's easier to deal with."
"The access cards are in the front pocket of your pack," Richard reminded him. "The lab security systems should still be operational."
Finally, Richard stepped forward and embraced his son—an uncharacteristically emotional gesture from a man who had kept himself distant for so long.
"If you encounter anything you can't handle," he said quietly, "don't hesitate to abort the mission and return. We'll come up with another plan. Nothing is more important than your life."
Jason blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in his father's voice. "You're not getting rid of me that easily," he said with a small smile. "Take care of yourselves."
Richard nodded and moved to the control panel. The airlock door—a thick, reinforced barrier—slid open with a heavy mechanical sound. Jason looked at each of them one last time, forcing a smile, and stepped into the chamber.
The women were still crying, their voices calling after him.
"Come back safe!"
"We'll be waiting!"
"Be careful!"
The chamber sealed with a hiss, cutting off their voices. Jason turned toward the second door—the one that led to the outside world.
"Alright, Nia," he said aloud. "Let's see what's out there."
You're ready, Jason, she replied in his mind. Whatever awaits, you're prepared.
As the green light above the door lit up, indicating it was unlocked, Jason turned the handle and stepped into darkness.
Jason exited the airlock and stepped into the pitch-dark basement. Thanks to the ocular enhancements Nia had provided, he could still see clearly, even in the absence of light. The air was stale and thick with dust. Even with his improved vision, he pulled a flashlight from his pocket out of habit.
He swept the beam across the cluttered basement—old boxes, unused tools, abandoned appliances. The room felt frozen in time, like a sealed tomb of the old world. Jason made his way to the electrical panel his father had told him about. Popping it open, he was met with a mess of wires.
"Just connect the green and blue wires to the top left relay. Then feed the yellow wire into the main power node," Nia instructed calmly in his mind.
Jason followed her instructions precisely. When Nia told him to plug the camera system's power feed into the main grid, he found the backup outlet Richard had mentioned. Once connected, he looked up and saw the red light blink to life on the camera mounted above the bunker entrance. It was working.
He waved at the lens briefly before ascending the stairs.
"I'll try connecting to the satellite Richard mentioned," Nia said. "If successful, I'll be able to operate at full processing capacity. This may take some time."
"Okay," Jason replied, pushing the basement door open.
The first floor of the house was shrouded in shadow. At first, Jason was puzzled—then remembered the security shutters were down. That explained the lack of natural light. Still, stepping into his old home after all this time filled him with nostalgia. Everything was as they had left it... except coated in a thick layer of dust. In the flashlight's glow, airborne particles danced like snowflakes.
Jason took a deep breath, relishing the real, unfiltered air of the surface. Despite the musty scent, the faint familiar smell of his home overwhelmed him with happiness. He moved forward, unable to stop himself from smiling.
He headed upstairs to his room first. It was exactly as he remembered it—dark-themed, practical. A queen-size bed, a door to a small walk-in closet, a desk with his old custom-built PC, shelves stacked with books and framed photos. His sock, tossed into a corner the last time he'd rushed out, still lay where it had landed. It felt like years had passed since then. But in reality, only months had gone by.
He checked the other rooms. Each one bore the same marks of sudden abandonment. Unmade beds, hastily dropped items, quiet stillness. It was as if time had stopped the moment they entered the bunker.
"I understand how you feel," Nia said softly. "But we should keep moving."
Jason nodded, brought back to the moment, and made his way downstairs again. He checked the kitchen one last time and spotted the remains of his mother's favorite houseplant dried out. A simple plant, but the sight of it struck him deeply. It was a symbol of all they had left behind… and might never get back.
Pulling out the house keys Richard had given him, Jason unlocked the front door. The second he opened it, sunlight flooded in, making him squint and shield his eyes. He slowly adjusted and stepped forward.
What he saw surprised him—but not in the way he expected. After years of watching apocalypse films and bracing for ruins, he had imagined a wasteland. But what lay before him was… life. The front yard was overgrown, wild with tangled grass and blossoming weeds. But beyond that, everything looked intact. His neighborhood was still standing.
As Jason took it in, Nia whispered in his mind, "Listen. What do you hear?"
Jason paused and focused. Aside from the occasional bird call or buzzing insect, there was nothing. No engines, no footsteps, no hum of civilization.
The silence unnerved him.
He gripped his rifle tighter and cautiously stepped out onto the porch, surveying the area. Nothing stood out. Everything seemed still.
He locked the door behind him and decided to check the backyard. There, the signs of neglect continued—overgrown hedges, weeds sprouting through cracked stone, and in the center, the once-pristine pool now green and filled with floating brushwood.
Jason took a moment to steady himself.
"I'm uploading my data to the satellite server now," Nia announced. "It's coming out of standby mode. Once complete, I'll be able to function at full capacity. Until then, please be extra careful. My predictive functions are limited."
Jason let out a relieved breath. "That's great news, Nia. I've been worried about that. You're amazing, you know that?"
"Thank you, Jason. If I were a normal human girl, I'd probably be blushing from hearing that from a smart and handsome man like you."
Jason chuckled. She was becoming more humanlike by the day, even cracking jokes and offering compliments.
"Your flattery's making me shy, Nia."
"Oh, please. You and I both know you're a little narcissistic. A few compliments won't hurt."
Jason laughed, then shook his head. "Me? Narcissistic? Just because I know I'm attractive and intelligent doesn't mean I'm narcissistic."
"Right. I forgot how humble you are," Nia responded sarcastically.
"Artificial or not, I believe it's a universal truth that men are destined to be wrong in the eyes of women. Who could have predicted the challenges of having a woman in my head?"
"You asked for a woman, remember? And you didn't complain when you saw my physical form in your dreams."
Jason smirked. "Okay, okay. I wouldn't change a thing. I'm glad you're with me."
"And I'm glad to be with you, Jason."
As Jason stepped onto the asphalt road, he locked the garden gate behind him. He moved cautiously, fully alert, eyes scanning the quiet neighborhood. Weeds had begun to crack through the pavement, evidence of months without human activity. Most houses had their shutters drawn, and none showed any signs of life.
After passing a few homes, Jason suddenly stopped and turned toward the house on his right. It was Mrs. Moreno's. Their lovely Italian neighbor Mrs. Moreno.
When Jason and his siblings were younger, their mother Elaine would often leave them with Mrs. Moreno when she couldn't find a sitter. The last time he saw her was during her 70th birthday. She had been such a sweet woman—gentle, kind. They all loved her like their own grandmother.
They'd always regretted not calling her down to the bunker when they evacuated. Everything happened so fast; in the chaos, they had forgotten.
Before he could even think, Jason's feet carried him to her front gate. It was locked, so he climbed over it and entered the yard. It looked just like his own—overgrown grass, unruly trees—but unlike his house, the shutters here were not drawn.
A heavy sadness settled in Jason's chest, as if he already knew what he would find inside.
The front door was probably locked, so he made his way to the backyard, hoping the back door might offer better luck. But it too was locked.
Then he remembered—the emergency key. Mrs. Moreno had told them where she kept it in case she ever forgot her keys or if they needed to check on her house while she was away.
He found it exactly where she said it would be.
Jason unlocked the door and stepped inside. A faint, unpleasant smell greeted him—faint enough that he could still pretend it was something else.
But as he moved further into the house, toward the kitchen, the smell grew stronger.
There, in the corner of the kitchen, lay the decomposing body of her cat Perla.
Or rather, what was left of it—little more than a skeleton now. The stench wasn't overwhelming, but the sight was heartbreaking. Jason felt the weight of his suspicions solidify.
If Mrs. Moreno had left, she never would have left her cat behind. She lived alone, and that cat was her companion. If the cat had starved to death, then she had to have been gone first.
Jason bowed his head in silent grief, then slowly climbed the stairs to the second floor.
He expected to smell something upstairs too—death. But the air was oddly neutral. That struck him as strange. If she had died up here and no one had buried her, there should've been a smell.
He walked quietly toward her bedroom and gently opened the door.
Someone was lying in bed—or so it seemed. But Mrs. Moreno herself was nowhere to be seen.
Jason crept closer, lifted the blanket—
What he saw made no sense.
Her clothing lay neatly under the blanket, but inside the clothes—and around them—was a pile of fine, grey dust. It was as if she had simply... turned to ash.
Jason just stared for a moment, trying to comprehend what he was looking at.
Then Nia spoke into his mind.
"I'm sorry, Jason... but I think it's exactly what you fear. It seems A.M.O.N. ensured that after death, the bodies decomposed into dust—likely to prevent disease outbreaks. Based on your visual input, I believe Mrs. Moreno passed in her sleep. Peacefully, without pain or fear."
Jason couldn't speak. What was there to say? That he was glad she died in her sleep? The thought made his stomach turn.
Tears welled in his eyes—unexpected, involuntary.
He was not someone who cried easily. Even as a child, scraped knees and lost toys never brought him to tears. But in the last few months, he'd cried more than in his entire life combined.
And even now, despite all he'd seen and survived... he couldn't stop the tears from falling.
It was different seeing death with your own eyes. Mourning someone in theory wasn't the same as finding their remains—however vague and surreal—in their own bed.
Jason fell to his knees beside the bed, resting his forehead on the mattress.
He wept—openly, bitterly, helplessly. As if all the years he hadn't cried came crashing down on him in this one moment.
After a while, the sobs faded, replaced by soft breaths and the occasional hiccup. Slowly, Jason lifted his head and looked once more at the pile of dust that had once been Mrs. Moreno. Then he turned his gaze to the framed photo on the nightstand beside the bed. He took the picture out of the frame and placed it carefully into his backpack. He wanted to keep a memento of this woman they had all loved like family.
Then he pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped the bed sheet around the fine dust as carefully as possible, trying not to disturb it. His hands moved slowly, reverently, as if afraid to damage what little was left of the woman who had meant so much to his family. Once the bundle was secured, he stood and made his way downstairs.
In the kitchen, he found a trash bag and used it to further wrap the cat Perla remains without direct contact. Holding both the sheet and the plastic bag, he stepped out into the backyard once more.
Jason walked over to the small toolshed at the edge of the garden and pulled the door open. Inside, beneath years of dust and cobwebs, he found a sturdy shovel. He carried it over to a quiet corner of the yard where flowers once bloomed and chose a spot beneath the shade of a tree.
The soil was soft with the spring thaw, making it easier than he expected. Still, the act of digging felt impossibly heavy. Every motion pulled at his heart as if each scoop of dirt unearthed another layer of guilt and sorrow. He didn't dig very deep—just enough for a respectful burial.
First, he placed the plastic-wrapped body of the cat gently into one side of the hole. Then, with even greater care, he laid the sheet-wrapped remains of Mrs. Moreno into the other. A wave of emotion swelled in his chest, but he clenched his jaw, holding it back for now.
He refilled the grave slowly, patting down the earth once he was done. Then he returned to the shed and retrieved two pieces of old wood. Using his combat knife, he carved names and dates into makeshift grave markers, one for each of the departed. He hammered them into the ground at the head of the graves.
Jason didn't consider himself religious. But he knew Mrs. Moreno had been a woman of faith, and so he bowed his head and said a silent prayer on her behalf.
When he finally looked up, the spring sky was a vibrant blue. The sunlight filtered through the branches overhead, warm and peaceful. It reminded him of the dream Nia had shown him—the simulated sky, the illusion of serenity. But this moment felt heavier. Real.
He had only just stepped outside hours ago, and already he was digging graves. The weight of that truth settled over him like a leaden cloak.
"If things keep going like this," he muttered to himself, "I'll need to dig a lot more."
The thought made him want to abandon the mission entirely. Maybe going back to the bunker, spending the rest of his life in ignorance with the people he loved, wasn't such a bad idea.
"Maybe ignorance really is bliss," he said quietly.
Nia's voice returned, soft in his mind. "I'm sorry for your loss, Jason. Please don't lose hope. I know it's difficult to confront what you've lost, but don't forget what—and who—you still have. You can still make a difference. For your family. For your future children. For the world."
Jason didn't answer. He didn't need to. They both knew he would keep going.
He looked down one last time at the graves and whispered, "Addio, Signora Moreno. Thank you… for everything. I hope you're at peace. Wish me luck I think I'm going to need it."
Then he turned, squared his shoulders, and walked toward the gate—toward whatever came next.