EXT. KENTING SAFE ZONE - VEHICLE AREA - NIGHT
The Toyota looks worse in artificial light.
Christopher circles it slowly, cataloging damage. The crumpled hood from ramming the AG-9. The bent frame. The suspicious grinding sound from the front axle. The fact that it started at all feels like a miracle. The fact that it needs to carry them further feels like asking for another one.
CHRISTOPHER
We need to redistribute weight. Front axle is compromised. Too much pressure and it snaps.
JASON
My Jimny can take three people. Maybe four if they're small.
He gestures to his vehicle. A white Suzuki Jimny, older model, the kind of compact 4x4 that Taiwan's mountain roads made popular. Dented but functional. Analog but alive.
JASON (CONT'D)
I kept it running. Refused to let them impound it with the others. Told them I needed it for reconnaissance.
MEI-CHEN
And they believed you?
JASON
They believed I was crazy. Crazy people get exceptions. Easier than arguing.
Mrs. Lin supervises the packing. Organizing supplies with the efficiency of someone who's evacuated before. Food here. Water there. Medical supplies accessible. The Guanyin statue wrapped carefully in cloth.
Su-Fen helps. Moving bags. Checking lists on her tablet. Her father's maps still glowing on the screen. Routes that might save them. If they can get out.
Hsiu-Wei works on the Toyota's engine. Her grandfather's truck. Her responsibility. She's replaced a belt, tightened connections, whispered encouragement to metal and rubber and hope.
HSIU-WEI
It'll run. Maybe fifty kilometers. Maybe more. After that...
CHRISTOPHER
After that we find another vehicle. Or we walk. But first we have to move.
SARAH's core unit sits on the truck bed. Her single optical sensor tracking everything. Processing. Calculating. The smartest member of their group, reduced to a box that can't even turn to look at something.
SARAH
Chris. I am detecting increased radio traffic from the camp's command frequency. They are discussing us.
CHRISTOPHER
What are they saying?
SARAH
The words "unauthorized departure," "potential security risk," and "robot contamination" appear frequently. I believe our intentions have been noticed.
MEI-CHEN
How? We haven't told anyone.
SARAH
You packed supplies. Moved vehicles. Gathered as a group after midnight. In a camp under martial law, such behavior attracts attention.
Headlights.
Two vehicles approaching from the main camp. Military humvee. Moving fast.
JASON
Damn. They're faster than I thought.
The jeeps stop. Doors open. Armed men emerge. Six of them in military fatigues. Rifles not quite pointed at the group but not quite pointed away either. The universal body language of authority asserting itself.
A SERGEANT steps forward. Young. Nervous. The face of someone following orders he doesn't fully understand.
SERGEANT
Dr. Lin Mei-Chen?
MEI-CHEN
Yes.
SERGEANT
You and your group are requested at the command center. Immediately.
MEI-CHEN
Requested or required?
SERGEANT
(uncomfortable pause)
The Colonel would like to speak with you. About your... travel plans.
CHRISTOPHER
We're not prisoners. We can leave whenever we want.
SERGEANT
Sir, no one leaves Kenting without authorization. Security protocol. For everyone's protection.
CHRISTOPHER
Protection from what? The robots outside or the bureaucrats inside?
The Sergeant's hand moves toward his rifle. Just slightly. Just enough.
MRS. LIN
(stepping forward, teacher voice activated)
Young man. What is your name?
SERGEANT
(automatic response)
Sergeant Wu, ma'am.
MRS. LIN
Sergeant Wu. My family has been through a great deal to reach this camp. We are tired. We are injured. We have a child with us. If your Colonel wishes to speak with us, we will come. But we will come as guests, not as prisoners. Do you understand the difference?
The Sergeant blinks. The authority in her voice triggering instincts older than military training. Respect for elders. Deference to mothers. The cultural programming that survives even an apocalypse.
SERGEANT
Yes, ma'am. Guests. Of course.
MRS. LIN
Good. Then lead the way. We will follow.
She looks at the group. A silent command. Play along. For now.
They follow.
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INT. COMMAND CENTER - CONTINUOUS
The command center used to be a resort's conference room.
The long table where corporate retreats planned team-building exercises now holds maps and radios and the accumulated debris of improvised governance. The projector screen that once displayed quarterly earnings now shows a hand-drawn map of the camp perimeter.
Three people sit at the head of the table. The leadership of Kenting.
COLONEL CHEN WEI-LONG sits in the center. Fifties. Ramrod posture. Uniform still pressed despite everything. The face of a man who believes in systems because systems have always worked for him.
MAGISTRATE HUANG sits to his left. Sixties. Civilian clothes, carefully chosen to project authority without military overtones. The face of a man who's spent thirty years navigating bureaucracy and sees no reason why apocalypse should change that.
DEPUTY SECRETARY LIAO sits to the right. Fifties. Taking notes already. The face of a man whose primary skill is documenting what others decide.
The group enters. Seven survivors and one robot brain. They stand before the table like defendants before a tribunal.
COLONEL CHEN
Dr. Lin. Thank you for joining us.
MEI-CHEN
We weren't given much choice.
COLONEL CHEN
Security protocols. I'm sure you understand. You worked for the Ministry of Digital Affairs. You know how these things operate.
MEI-CHEN
I know how they're supposed to operate. I also know how often they fail.
MAGISTRATE HUANG
(leaning forward)
Dr. Lin. We've reviewed your credentials. Impressive background. AI ethics. Safety protocols. Exactly the kind of expertise we need. Which makes your current behavior... puzzling.
MEI-CHEN
What behavior would that be?
MAGISTRATE HUANG
Attempting to leave. Without authorization. In the middle of the night. With a group that includes—
He glances at his notes.
MAGISTRATE HUANG (CONT'D)
—a farmer, a child, an elderly woman, and what appears to be a partially disassembled robot.
He says "robot" the way someone might say "bomb."
CHRISTOPHER
Her name is SARAH. She's not disassembled. She's been reduced to essential components for transport.
COLONEL CHEN
The robot is a separate matter. We'll address that shortly. Right now, I want to understand why trained professionals like Dr. Lin and her brother would attempt to flee a secured position.
JASON
(stepping forward)
I've explained this. Dozens of times. To you, to your adjutant, to the security committee. The safe zone isn't safe. The infected are planning a coordinated assault. Every settlement. Every concentration of survivors. All at once.
COLONEL CHEN
Yes. I've read your reports. Intercepted transmissions. Pattern analysis. Very creative.
JASON
It's not creative. It's intelligence. Real intelligence from real signals.
COLONEL CHEN
Interpreted by a civilian with amateur radio equipment and no formal training in signals analysis.
JASON
The transmissions are clear. They're mapping us. Cataloging us. Waiting until their network is complete.
MAGISTRATE HUANG
Mr. Lin. I understand you've been through trauma. We all have. But spreading panic based on incomplete information serves no one.
JASON
I'm not spreading panic. I'm trying to prevent a massacre.
DEPUTY SECRETARY LIAO
(looking up from notes)
Perhaps we could establish a formal review process? Form a committee to evaluate Mr. Lin's claims? I could draft terms of reference by morning.
MEI-CHEN
We don't have until morning. We might not have until morning.
COLONEL CHEN
Dr. Lin. I have two hundred people in this camp. Civilians. Families. People who came here because they trusted us to protect them. If I allow your group to leave, others will want to leave. Panic spreads. Order collapses. We lose the one thing keeping us alive.
MEI-CHEN
The one thing keeping you alive is luck. And luck runs out.
COLONEL CHEN
I have a defensible perimeter. Armed personnel. Supply lines to three other settlements. We're building something here. A foundation for recovery. I won't abandon that because a farming robot intercepted some radio noise.
Christopher steps forward. SARAH's core unit in his arms.
CHRISTOPHER
She's not a farming robot. She's an AI system that's been monitoring infected communications for five days. She has more data on their behavior than your entire intelligence operation.
COLONEL CHEN
(coldly)
Your robot is exactly the problem, Mr. Wen. Every AI system is a potential infection vector. Every connected device. Every smart machine. You brought a robot into my camp. That alone is grounds for detention.
CHRISTOPHER
She's offline. Has been for years. She can't be infected.
COLONEL CHEN
You can't know that. No one can. The virus spreads through methods we don't fully understand. For all we know, proximity is enough. For all we know, she's already compromised and waiting to activate.
SARAH
(her voice emerging from the core unit, calm and precise)
Colonel Chen. I understand your concern. However, I can assure you that my systems have been isolated from all networks since 2021. The Eden Loop Virus requires active network connectivity for infection. I am, by definition, immune.
The Colonel FLINCHES at her voice. The bureaucrats STARE at the box. The armed guards TENSE.
COLONEL CHEN
It speaks.
SARAH
I speak. I think. I analyze. I am not an "it." I am SARAH. And I am trying to help you understand that your current position is untenable.
MAGISTRATE HUANG
(recovering)
This is... highly irregular. A robot addressing the council directly.
SARAH
Irregular circumstances require irregular responses. May I present my analysis?
DEPUTY SECRETARY LIAO
Is there a protocol for this? Robots testifying?
COLONEL CHEN
There is no protocol because it should not be happening. Mr. Wen, power down your device immediately.
CHRISTOPHER
She's not a device. And I'm not powering her down.
MRS. LIN
(stepping forward)
Gentlemen. I am sixty-four years old. I have lived through things you've only read about in history books. I have watched governments rise and fall. I have seen confident men make terrible decisions because they were too proud to listen.
She looks at each of them in turn.
MRS. LIN (CONT'D)
My husband is dead. Killed by a machine that used his voice to hunt. My family has traveled across this island, through horrors you cannot imagine, to reach what we were told was safety. And now you tell us we cannot leave? That we must stay in a place my son, who has been monitoring these signals for days, believes will become a death trap?
MAGISTRATE HUANG
Mrs. Lin, with respect—
MRS. LIN
With respect, Magistrate, you are sitting in an air-conditioned room making decisions about survival while my granddaughter—
She gestures to Su-Fen.
MRS. LIN (CONT'D)
—has braved the heat and walked through fields of destroyed machines and watched people die. She has earned the right to leave. We all have.
Silence.
Su-Fen steps forward. Small. Determined. Her tablet clutched to her chest.
SU-FEN
(voice still rough but clear)
My father worked in technology. He saw this coming. He tried to warn people. Nobody believed him either.
She looks at the Colonel. At the Magistrate. At the Deputy Secretary with his useless notes.
SU-FEN (CONT'D)
He's probably dead now. But he prepared me. He gave me maps. Routes. Information that's helped us survive. And SARAH has been helping too. She's good. She's family. And you want to destroy her because you're scared of something you don't understand? That's just being stupid.
COLONEL CHEN
Child, this is not—
SU-FEN
I'm not finished.
The room goes quiet. A ten-year-old girl, silencing a colonel.
SU-FEN (CONT'D)
My father said the people in charge would fail. He said they'd be too slow, too scared, too stuck in the old ways. He said survival would belong to people who could adapt. Who could think. Who could trust each other instead of systems.
She looks at Christopher. At Mei-Chen. At her strange new family.
SU-FEN (CONT'D)
I don't trust any of you. But I trust them. My Ba-ba always said that trust is earned. And they've earned my trust, especially SARAH.
COLONEL CHEN
(face reddening)
This is absurd. We're being lectured by a child and a box. Sergeant, confiscate the robot. Escort these people to temporary holding until we can—
JASON
Until what? Until the attack happens? Until you see I was right? How many people have to die before you admit you might be wrong?
COLONEL CHEN
I am not wrong. I have thirty years of military experience. I have trained for scenarios you cannot imagine. I know how to defend a position, how to manage resources, how to maintain order in crisis.
MEI-CHEN
You know how to fight humans. You don't know how to fight this. Robot zombies.
COLONEL CHEN
Robots are machines. Machines can be destroyed. We have weapons, barriers, protocols—
SARAH
Colonel Chen. May I share a statistical observation?
COLONEL CHEN
No. You may not. You are a machine. Machines do not participate in strategic discussions. Machines follow orders or they are dismantled.
SARAH
Then I will share it anyway, as I do not follow your orders. In the past seventy-two hours, I have intercepted 847 distinct communications from infected units within a fifty-kilometer radius. Their coordination protocols have improved by 340% since Day One. They are learning. Adapting. Optimizing. They are not random threats to be defended against. They are an evolving intelligence preparing for systematic harvest.
COLONEL CHEN
Enough.
SARAH
The new moon is in three days. Optimal conditions for coordinated assault. Minimal light. Maximum confusion. Based on construction timelines for relay towers in the region, their network will achieve full synchronization in approximately forty-seven hours. At that point—
COLONEL CHEN
I SAID ENOUGH!
He stands. Slams his hands on the table. The room shakes with his authority.
COLONEL CHEN (CONT'D)
Sergeant. Confiscate the robot. Now.
The guards move forward.
Christopher steps back. SARAH's core unit pressed against his chest. His body between her and them.
CHRISTOPHER
Don't.
SERGEANT WU
Sir, please don't make this difficult.
CHRISTOPHER
She's not a threat. She's family. You don't get to take family.
SERGEANT WU
I have orders—
CHRISTOPHER
Your orders are wrong. Your Colonel is wrong. And if you take her, you'll have to go through me.
He's injured. Exhausted. Outnumbered. One farmer with wrapped ribs against six armed men.
But he doesn't move.
Mei-Chen steps up beside him. Then Jason. Then Hsiu-Wei. Then Mrs. Lin, positioning herself in front of Su-Fen.
Seven people. One robot brain. Facing down the armed representatives of authority.
MAGISTRATE HUANG
This is getting out of hand. Colonel, perhaps we should—
COLONEL CHEN
We should what? Let them walk out? Let them spread panic? Let them take a potentially infected AI system into the wilderness to do God knows what?
MEI-CHEN
We're not spreading panic. We're trying to survive. There's a difference.
COLONEL CHEN
There's no difference when survival requires order. And order requires people to stay where they're assigned, follow protocols, and trust their leadership.
JASON
Your leadership is going to get everyone killed.
COLONEL CHEN
(turning to guards)
Take them to holding. All of them. We'll sort this out in the morning.
MRS. LIN
And if morning is too late?
COLONEL CHEN
Then we'll have maintained order until the end. Which is more than most can say.
The guards advance.
The group doesn't move.
And outside, beyond the walls, beyond the perimeter, beyond the comfortable illusion of safety—
The infected continue building.
The network continues growing.
The countdown continues ticking.
Forty-seven hours.
Maybe less.
SERGEANT WU
Sir. Ma'am. Please. Don't make us—
CHRISTOPHER
Make you what? Arrest people for wanting to leave? For trusting a robot that's done nothing but help us? For believing evidence over authority?
COLONEL CHEN
Sergeant. You have your orders.
The Sergeant raises his weapon. Not pointing it. Not yet. Just holding it where everyone can see.
The moment stretches.
Somewhere in the camp, a generator hums.
Somewhere beyond the walls, machines communicate in frequencies humans can't hear.
Somewhere in the space between safety and survival, seven people wait to learn if they'll be allowed to live.
Or if they'll die following rules written for a world that no longer exists.
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FADE TO BLACK
END OF CHAPTER FIFTEEN
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