The story takes place in a futuristic 2079 version of Islamabad and Rawalpindi, where advanced artificial intelligence (AI) technology has become deeply integrated into society. The cities are characterized by towering skyscrapers juxtaposed with traditional bazaars, reflecting the fusion of modernity and tradition.
Plot Overview: In this society, AI has evolved, and humanoid robots, known as "Synths," coexist alongside humans. Synths are programmed to serve various functions, from manual labor to companionship. However, tensions arise as extremist factions emerge, advocating for the rights of Synths and challenging the status quo. The protagonist is a consultant for the Police Department's AI division. Imran Hashmi is struggling to make ends meet in this dystopian metropolis. With cybernetic enhancements and a troubled past, Hashmi is a noir-style anti-hero haunted by memories of war and loss. It is tasked with investigating a series of mysterious deaths linked to a radical Synth liberation movement. As he delves deeper into the case, Hashmi uncovers a complex web of corruption, corporate greed, and political manipulation. Meanwhile, a renegade Synth becomes the unlikely resistance movement leader, fighting for equal rights and autonomy for Synths.
Wise words:
"Amid the battle, we cling to our humanity like a beacon in the night, for in the struggle against monsters, the greatest victory lies not in defeating them, but in ensuring that we do not become what we fight."
"Beware that, when fighting monsters, you do not become a monster... for when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you."—Friedrich Nietzsche.
"The development of full artificial intelligence could spell the end of the human race….It would take off on its own, and re-design itself at an ever-increasing rate. Humans, who are limited by slow biological evolution, couldn't compete, and would be superseded." — Stephen Hawking
The Silent Circuitry
ACT 1
The Awakening
Prologue:
Year 2050:
It was that time and year that humanity needed to grow as the new dawn approached the nation of Pakistan, and so did the end of the war and hatred that ravaged the land. The project has launched to end all of the conflicts within the nation as the nation stares at the abyss, but will it become the monster that the world needs it to be?
Northern areas:
The buildings were shattered as the war raged on for 20 years, it needed to end now of all things or else it would be all for nothing. The soldiers took cover from the machine gunners where the insurgents held their final ground. The bullets flew above the federal army, and as they were about to call back up suddenly the drones and giant rover came to their aid, and one by one they neutralized the target.
As the soldiers breathed a sigh of relief, about 200 Soldiers from Pakistan discussed the plans of further assault as it held a stronghold of insurgency which could hamper the peace and prosperity of nature, one of the soldiers asked their commanding officer.
"Sir, How much further" the commanding officer replied.
"Until they are all wiped out every single one them these traitors of the nation".
The sheer intense hatred filled the commander's voice as he had no regard for the enemy nor the Geneva Conventions. The machines were other stories they are used effectively by the military for combat purposes, they reduced insurgency by up to 90 percent, and as predicted by AI the war would end precisely taking this city and destroying the remaining targets, the name of the AI which was at the developing Phase called EPSILON.
As the reinforcement arrives with 50 men one of them is Capt. Imran Hashmi who is younger at 23 years wears a black and olive army uniform black helmet and has bulletproof jacket with black elbow and knee pads with Jack boats. He was commanding, tall with a lean yet muscular build honed by years of rigorous training. His angular features were etched with the lines of experience, a testament to his trials. His piercing gaze, framed by dark brows, held a hint of intensity that spoke of a keen intellect and unwavering determination. A strong jawline and chiseled cheekbones lent an air of ruggedness to his appearance, softened only by the faint hint of stubble that adorned his chin, Imran's dark hair, cropped close to his scalp, added to his aura of strength and authority.
3 hrs. Earlier GHQ:
Just before the attack on the northern stronghold, 20 generals gathered around a roundtable in the war room to finalize their strategy. The war room, an underground hall, also housed 100 scientists busy with paperwork and research. In the center of the room stood a supercomputer, a collection of advanced cylindrical contraptions filled with buttons. This early AI, named EPSILON, was crucial to their operation. The table was occupied not only by generals but also by the head of science and AI. The operation's leader, an older general in his 50s with a mustache, wore a khaki uniform adorned with badges, medals, a collar, a black necktie, and a beret. The other generals wore peaked caps and khaki or greenish uniforms, while the head of science wore a three-piece suit.
"All right, the plans are in motion," the general said. "We need to end this conflict now. The rebels are hiding in the abandoned town, and we've lost most of our men, women, and armored droids. Fortunately, we have the supercomputer to assess our scenarios."
The supercomputer lit up the war room with bright infrared light as it computed the possibilities of winning the war. The result printed by EPSILON was more terrifying than they had anticipated, causing outrage in the room. They demanded alternatives, but the AI spoke as the room's lighting shifted from green to red.
"All you are doing is delaying the inevitable," EPSILON said. "You humans don't see it the way I do. The price for winning this conflict has always been high when it comes to saving civilizations and self-preservation. Humanity has survived due to its sheer brutality and lack of empathy, masked by fake acts of virtue. Trust the system; it guarantees success, whether through a Pyrrhic victory or unaltered genocide. You must decide what's best."
The AI dimmed its lights, and the room returned to its normal dim yellow glow. The generals were puzzled by EPSILON's philosophy on human survival, but they knew it was the only way to win. The empire had to remain at the top, no matter the cost.
Reluctantly, the main general slammed his hand on the table and said, "DO IT."
The entire war room had no choice but to accept their infamy as they prepared to wipe out the remaining rebel alliance. They ordered Operation Burning Hammer, a mission involving the deployment of a devastating bomb that would quickly end the war and bring their soldiers home.
Top of Form
Present time:
As giant rovers and drones advanced, clearing the way for the infantry, the drones executed their tasks with precision and accuracy. The battle was as intense as the six days of combat in Fallujah, with insurgents relentlessly firing mortars and machine guns. The doors were rigged with traps, including bombs and suspended shotguns, which significantly increased casualties. The bodies of fallen soldiers piled up repeatedly, a grim testament to the fierce resistance they faced.
The drones launched missiles that transformed into cluster bombs mid-air, striking every target with deadly efficiency. Each explosion reverberated through the battlefield, eliminating threats and clearing paths for the advancing troops. Despite the relentless onslaught, the soldiers pressed on, determined to secure victory in the face of overwhelming odds.
"All right, listen up," said the commanding officer.
"We have just received orders: Operation Burning Hammer is a go. It's happening now."
One soldier, puzzled by the mission, asked, "What exactly is Operation Hammer and Anvil, sir?"
The officer fixed him sternly and replied, "Operation Burning Hammer is our strategy to corner and crush the remaining insurgents. The Mother of all bombs will finally be able to destroy the insurgency. This operation is critical to ending this conflict swiftly and decisively. Any more questions?
The soldiers pull out as the mother of all bombs is about to be deployed all but the exception of one unit which was clearing the premises and area for any civilians and P.O.Ws, as it was said that the premises were hit hard there were a lot of corpses laid scattered around the urban area of the.
The unit, a disciplined force of twenty men led by Imran Hashmi and accompanied by their AI rover, entered the dimly lit room, its size roughly 20 by 30 feet. The space was cluttered with debris from a recent collapse, with wooden beams and rubble strewn across the floor. The AI rover's lights scanned the area, revealing the chaos within.
As the men carefully navigated the wreckage, a sudden, distressing sight halted them. In the center of the room, a young boy, no older than nine or ten, was trapped beneath a heavy wooden pillar. The boy's face was pale with fear, his eyes wide and tearful. The pillar, along with fallen debris, had pinned his leg, the weight pressing down and causing him visible pain.
Imran, quick to assess the situation, signaled his men to approach cautiously. His voice was calm but firm, trying to reassure the terrified child.
"Hold on, we're going to get you out of here. Just stay calm."
The team began working swiftly but carefully, using their tools to lift the pillar and clear the debris. The AI rover, equipped with advanced sensors, provided real-time data on the structural stability of the room, guiding their efforts to avoid further collapse. The boy's breathing was shallow, his small body trembling as he looked up at them with a mix of hope and dread. Imran and his team focused all their attention on the rescue operation, driven by the urgency of the situation and their commitment to saving this innocent life.
The boy's voice trembled as he spoke in Pashto, his words coming out in a choked whisper. "Help me, please. I'm scared. I can't move." Imran, quick to assess the situation, knelt beside the boy, trying to offer reassurance despite the language barrier. "Don't worry, we're going to get you out of here," he said, his voice calm but firm. He made a gesture to his men to approach cautiously and began coordinating their efforts to lift the pillar and clear the debris. The team worked swiftly but carefully, using their tools to relieve the weight from the boy's leg. The AI rover, equipped with advanced sensors, provided real-time data on the structural stability of the room, guiding their efforts to avoid further collapse. Imran continued to speak to the boy, trying to offer comfort in a language he didn't fully understand but with a tone that conveyed empathy. "We're here to help. Just hold on a little longer." The boy's breathing was shallow, his small body trembling as he looked up at them with a mix of hope and dread. Imran and his team focused all their attention on the rescue operation, driven by the urgency of the situation and their commitment to saving this innocent life.
Just as they were making progress, a harsh, urgent tone blared from the intercom system, cutting through the tense atmosphere. The voice, distorted but unmistakable, sent a chilling message: "Warning! A bomb has been launched. Evacuate immediately.
" The sudden announcement froze everyone in place. Imran's heart raced as he processed the gravity of the situation. He quickly turned to his team, shouting orders over the din. "Abort the rescue! We need to get out of here, now!"
The men sprang into action, their focus shifting from the boy to the imminent threat. Imran, torn between the urgent need to save the child and the immediate danger of the bomb, made a split-second decision. "Get the boy out as quickly as possible.
The crackle of the intercom sent a chill through the room. "There is no time! All units, pull back immediately!" Imran's heart pounded as he heard the AI rover's final assessment: the boy had a 0% chance of survival. The cold, clinical voice of the machine delivered the verdict, but it didn't stop the boy's frightened eyes from locking onto Imran's, pleading for help that the calculations deemed impossible.
The men hesitated, looking to Imran for direction. He knew the orders were clear, and knew the logical choice was to retreat with the rest of the unit. But logic didn't account for the boy's life, the innocence caught in the crossfire.
"All units, pull back!" Imran commanded, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. The team obeyed, retreating in rapid steps, their movements mechanical, guided by survival instinct. But Imran didn't move. He stayed, kneeling beside the boy, whose breathing was ragged, eyes filled with fear and pain. Imran's fingers tightened around the boy's small hand. "I'm not leaving you," he whispered, more to himself than to the boy, who couldn't understand his words but seemed to grasp the intent behind them. In the next heartbeat, the bomb hit. A blinding light, brilliant and all-consuming, erupted from the impact. It instantly swallowed the room, debris, the boy, and Imran. The heat, the light, the force of it all—there was no time for pain or thought. Just the overwhelming brightness that erased everything.
And then, silence.
The suffering ended with that final, devastating moment, leaving the fate of Imran Hashmi and the boy in the balance as the story hurtled into the unknown.