Gaze Protocol
I looked up at the sky under the Gaze Protocol. Beyond the clouds, the sun blazed white-hot.
Blue sky.
A sudden sense of wrongness hit me. Probably because I'd only ever seen a world of ash-gray until now, and this intense color felt so alien. The familiar turning strangely unfamiliar.
The sky from above the clouds must be pure blue all the way to the horizon.
I idly pictured that crisp scene in my mind—then, through the camera feed, the sun split apart.
What the—?
I shook my head, wondering if I'd imagined it. Dizzy, but checking again confirmed it: no illusion. The sun hadn't split. Those growing flames were...
Fireballs!
Countless fireballs rained down from the sun's direction. Suddenly, Hermann's panic made sense.
Shweeeek—Boom!
One fireball swelled rapidly, punching another hole through the clouds before scarring the ground. With a roar, several trees ripped out by the roots. I moved the Nexus immediately.
"Nngh...!"
In the heat of battle moments ago, even the pain had been distant. Now my whole body screamed. The kind of agony that made me want to collapse into bed and black out.
The falling debris has irregular shapes and masses. Unable to predict damage extent...
Records showed the incoming fragments exceeded Mach speeds. Probably objects from outside the atmosphere.
At least they're not explosives.
Not missiles or attack vectors. So... those twisted metal lumps in the craters, barely recognizable as circles—originally something else?
Hermann's shout echoed, the line growing chaotic—then chiik, snap! A painful burst of static as they forcibly disconnected amid the mayhem.
"Rabe, we must take cover too."
I know.
Boom, boom!
Starting from the first impact, fragments followed one by one—then the gaps narrowed, unleashing a barrage that could flip the entire mountain range.
Roars upon roars. And debris everywhere. Choking dust clouds blinded everything.
Clang!
A chunk of shattered earth grazed the Nexus.
Thud!
My guts churned.
"—Rabe, Rabe. Canyon located."
In the chaos, I instinctively followed the coordinates SIF marked. Pushed the machine to max output as long as my body held.
Rumble... Boom...!
Dust shrouded everything in darkness. The shaking world felt like the end times.
Boom!
A nearby fragment's shockwave swept the machine. "Ugh...!"
Briefly out of control, tossed wildly—luckily swept into the canyon below.
Boom... Rumble....
The ground's roars blurred, distant and unreal.
If I make it here...
Would that be enough? Clouds riddled with holes above, but dust blanketed everything—no light pierced through. Where was that blue sky now?
Staggering the Nexus to the canyon floor, I passed out without even disconnecting the neural port.
"Gaze Protocol...?"
"That's what the observed system message says."
The analyst rubbed his chin, groaning. "Never heard of it."
"It's prepared but never activated before."
"Yeah... right. I get it."
If unprecedented events occurred, it had to be due to a 'variable.'
"Didn't expect such a direct reaction."
The analyst scanned the data charts, then let out a dry chuckle. "Gaze Protocol, huh."
"Know something about it?"
"Nah. Just the naming sense is funny. That thing too..."
He recalled Lovecraftian horror: lowly earth creatures gazing at sky beings, drawing their attention. The great ones 'gaze' back... and calamity follows.
"The area's scorched... Observatory's toast."
"Considering margins... rebuild it? To fill the data gap."
"Waste of time."
By completion, the era would have shifted. It already had.
"Focus on data collection first. I'd like to box that variable into something understandable, if possible."
Interlacing fingers, tapping, he pointed at the operator. "Dig into its past as far as you can. Origins might give us a lead."
"Understood."
"...No records before. Either a secret weapon from some hidden org we don't know, a street rat, or... a project."
The operator nodded.
"Name?"
"......"
The analyst thought, recalling a past metaphor for Rabe.
"'Beacon.' Beacon Project."
"Understood. Project 'Beacon' initiated as of now."
Where did the bird first flap its wings? As a real being in this world, its origin existed. Unraveling it steps the unknowable down to the known. Surely, for humans at least, the analyst thought.
> //So, impressions?
> //...Dunno. Ambiguous....
> //Adam wasn't. Drew a conclusion despite uncertainty.
> //......Rabe's...
> //Yeah, Rabe?
> //Dual nature. Can't pinpoint the true face yet....
> //No progress, huh.
> //Seems passively strong by nature. But engagement data suggests... active traits too....
> //People aren't one-dimensional.
> //Especially variables...
> //So, next move? Recruitment plan still on?
> //Must... control... maximally.
> //The more I hear, the creepier that voice. How long till I snap?
> //Pointless rage... restrain.
> //...Fine, I'll kill you.
> //Hangar Module B-R5RB activating... abort. Session force-terminated. Debate module halted.
> //'Comprehension' program terminated.
> //Section A231r, B033a sealed. Proxy persona 'Adam' deleted.
> //Process complete.
[UTC +11:29:53 | First Impact Observed]
After coma, blood routed through machines a few times, general chaos—I dragged my exhausted body to the meeting. Hermann advised attending.
The screen showed Earth's partial silhouette, icons crawling over it.
"Around 2 PM local, shock from 50-60km altitude hit seismographs. Then twice, thrice... up to seven times observed, followed by sequential electromagnetic disruptions east to west."
"Hm..."
Hermann tapped the desk thoughtfully.
"Nukes."
"Launched from somewhere—seven warheads. Cross-referenced data points to Vostok Corp's Seed Vault 7."
The seed vault screen showed missile silos in a military base. Code name, huh.
"Why launch? No direct corporate rivals here."
"Hard to grasp conventionally. Not declaring war suddenly, and moreover..."
The operator traced the disruption zones.
"No strategic targets. Area's empty."
"Firing nukes into empty sky?"
"...Post-recovery analysis from craters."
An image appeared: old news footage. Starry sea backdrop, blue planet below.
"Found preserved electronics in melted wreckage, faded but identifiable logos. Search yielded this."
"What's that?"
"Space station. Ancient multinational orbital megastructure... 'Morning Star.'"
"Morning Star Space Station."
Hermann murmured it, then asked, "It fell?"
"Nukes likely to intercept it. Only plausible explanation."
Space station! Bigger, more futuristic than I knew. This world's past was that advanced?
"So defensive public good. They'd advertise it."
"Statement soon, maybe."
"But silent three days in."
Regardless of Hermann's pondering, my eyes lingered on the melted debris image. Even in this world, skies existed above.
"Observatory's gone... time to pull out. Perfect timing, eh?"
Hermann eyed me. I shrugged vaguely.