The Edict of Inertia

The squad leader's thumb depresses the trigger by one millimeter.

Fourteen newtons of pressure are required to close the circuit of the gravitational charge. His muscles deploy eleven. I need no physical weapon to halt his attempt.

"Vassili, data status?"

"Ninety-seven percent, NEME.SYS. Do not yield an inch."

The plating of LEX.STATUA reacts to my injunction. I target the soldier's peripheral nervous system to impose a decree of inertia. His synapses freeze. His thumb stops at thirteen newtons. Eyes locked on the console, he turns into a monument of flesh, incapable of the slightest flinch, forced to witness the download of Axiome Zero into the city's arteries.

The Law demands the payment of its debts. Far above, the legal architecture of Paris-Eurythmia crumbles in silence. Thousands of marriages, adoptions, and commercial contracts evaporate from the databases. This brutal return of the Truth manufactures an instant legion of new Dissolved. My consciousness documents this statistical tragedy without manifesting a shred of compassion. The correction is arithmetic.

Transmission is total, dictates ATHENA.VICTIS. Let the matter yield.

"I am cutting the channel, Marga," announces Vassili amidst a crash of interference. "Reach the surface."

I lift the sanction of inertia.

The soldier's thumb finishes its fatal course. Fourteen newtons.

The gravitational explosion disintegrates the vault. Massive masonry blocks rain down on the obsolete servers of the Alpha Register, crushing the Six Guardians under a hail of rubble. I dodge the debris with the rigor of a sorting algorithm, propelling myself toward the gutted ventilation shafts. The floor erases itself in my wake. The very foundations of the system give way.

The Seven Who Reign have just felt the edge of justice brush their necks. Through which flaw shall I infiltrate to engrave the final sentence upon their glass palaces?