December 26, 2022 – Rodrigo's Apartment, Mexico City
The city vibrated with the noise of life. Horns honking, Christmas lights still hanging, children screaming in the parks, teenagers running around with their freshly opened presents. Rodrigo watched it all from his apartment balcony, a half-cold cup of tea in his hand, his eyes heavy from fatigue. Inside, the soft sounds of Orion and Airin's monitor reminded him that time didn't stand still, even if he tried.
He couldn't sleep.
For weeks, something had been burning inside him. A constant, gnawing thought that had begun as a distant intuition and had now transformed into a conviction impossible to ignore.
The world is dying.
And not because he was pessimistic or swayed by alarmist headlines. Rodrigo had access to data that no one else had, to projections generated by his AI, to images taken by the Ark's surveillance satellites. Widespreading droughts. Food chain collapses. Species disappearing before they're even catalogued. Entire ecosystems turned to ash.
It was more than climate change. It was a silent, systematic decline.
And then he understood.
It wasn't just about changing the present.
The past had to be preserved so that the future would have meaning.
December 27 – Ark, Omega Level
In the absolute silence of the Ark's core, Rodrigo sat in front of Eidolon's main panel. The bluish light from the projectors created a spectral aura around him.
"Eidolon," he said quietly. "Initiate the sequence for opening a special project. Codename: Ark of Life."
"Confirmed. Classified project. What will be its primary function?"
"Collect and preserve the DNA of all life on Earth."
The system remained silent for a few seconds.
"Estimated known species: 8.7 million. Total estimate, including microorganisms: over 1 trillion. Do you confirm total objective?"
Rodrigo hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then he nodded.
"Confirmed. Everything. Even what we haven't seen yet."
"Activating autonomous exploration modules. Initiating production of specialized harvesters."
From deep within the Ark, at its most advanced biotechnological levels, a silent army of adaptive drones began to activate. Some resembled insects, others small birds, fish-like creatures, even structures that mimicked lichens and spores to hide in extreme environments.
Rodrigo didn't need permission.
It wasn't a plan for today. Not even for his generation.
It was an insurance policy for tomorrow.
December 29 – XochitlOS is Born
That same week, Rodrigo completed a second project that he had also kept secret: his own operating system. Not a Linux derivative, not a layer on Windows or Android. A creation from scratch.
System name: XochitlOS.
(Xochitl: "flower" in Nahuatl. A symbol of life, growth, and natural beauty.)
Designed exclusively by him, from his quantum development console, using usage prediction algorithms, contextual AI, and microprocessor architecture optimized for any hardware.
The features that made it unique were:
Organic interface: the system learned how the user navigated, thought, and adapted everything. It didn't offer standard icons, but rather "access zones" that molded themselves to each person.
Integrated native AI: intelligence embedded in the core of the system, capable of reacting, protecting, and executing tasks proactively. Rodrigo named it "Xiuh."
Complete natural language: the system understood the user's voice, writing, and even the user's pause and rhythm patterns. Talking to XochitlOS wasn't just about using commands, it was about having a conversation.
Absolute privacy: no data left the device without explicit consent. No cloud storage, no tracking, no advertising. It was computer sovereignty.
Hardware resilience: XochitlOS could function even with critical hardware failures. It had code redundancy, modular reboots, and a "self-healing" capability.
Rodrigo intended it not to be sold, but to free knowledge from foreign dependence. If the world ever collapsed, XochitlOS could sustain a digital civilization from the ground up.
December 30 – The Invisible Plan
No one knew what Rodrigo had done. At LUMEN, everything continued as usual. Meetings, reports, updates to the XochitlOS operating system, progress in implementing LUMEN+ as a service.
Meanwhile, the drones departed the Ark in compact, camouflaged groups, designed to go undetected even by military technology. They blended into the environment, taking microscopic samples of water, leaves, animal saliva on the edge of a drinking fountain, and the bark of a tree deep in the jungle.
They transmitted the encrypted data directly to the Ark.
Rodrigo programmed a sacred rule: no creature would be harmed in the process.
No habitats would be disturbed, nothing living would be captured. DNA could be collected from traces, from the environment, from suspended particles. And they would do so with the patience of centuries.
A new Ark.
Not made of wood, nor carried by a chosen one. One that no one would see. That would work in silence. That would hold every genetic imprint on Earth.
December 31st – Last Entry of the Year
That night, with Orion asleep on his lap and Airin clinging to his finger as if she could hold the entire universe, Rodrigo turned on his personal console. He opened the Ark of Life Project file and wrote the first entry in his mission journal.
"Today marks the end of an extraordinary year. LUMEN has grown, XochitlOS is in beta, and my children breathe beside me. But this entry isn't for them. It's for you, reader of the future. If the world ever disappears and you find this database, know that we did it with love. That we tried to preserve what we were, what we were, so that you, even if you are another species, can understand that life… was diverse, was beautiful, and worth every second of care."
He saved the file. He encrypted it. No one else would read it.
He turned off the screen.
He looked at his children. And smiled.