The Politburo convened as usual—without any notable deviation from its daily routine.At least, that was how it appeared.
As always, files were distributed, tea was poured, and poorly made hand-rolled cigarettes were turned into black smoke. The clicking and clattering of countless mechanical calculators checked forecasts and calculations.
Yet the faces were hard, the eyes tired, the hands folded over yellowed papers.Nothing in the room suggested that today a decision had been made that would mark the Union forever.
No one said it aloud.But everyone knew.
The Commune would burn.
It was not a decision made lightly.But a decision that—so they told themselves—was necessary.
The eradication of the Commune from the face of the earth appeared to be the only option that would not further endanger humanity's living space.No lost stations.No destroyed tunnels.No price that would weaken the Union.
And yet:
Everyone knew what it was.A genocide.The extermination of their anarcho-communist brothers—a kindred people who had sought a different path of revolution.A dream that might have led to paradise… or straight into hell.
They would never be allowed to finish that dream.Their experiment would end in fire.
For the Blue Fever could not be allowed to spread further through the Metro.Not drag thousands more into the abyss.Not endanger the last bastion of humanity.Not smother the faintly glowing ember of progress.
It had to be done.
The Union was the only executioner burdened with the moral and historical weight to carry out this act.The fire would cleanse.Preserve.Protect.
From the ashes of the former inhabitants—more than a thousand of them—something new would grow:Residential quarters.Mushroom farms.Radiant manufactories.Productive forces for a people living at the edge of their capabilities.
The ashes of a Pompeii—sacrificed so that the future could be built.
Doctor Bauer took the floor.
"In addition to the regiments already deployed in the operational area, we require two more."
A murmur passed through the rows. Officials leaned toward one another, whispered, exchanged doubtful glances.
Why send more soldiers into this contaminated sector?Why waste additional resources when everything was already burning?
Mai quietly cleared her throat and rearranged her documents.A polite, yet unmistakable call for order.
Only once the humming subsided did she continue.
"I am aware that the demand for additional resources—be they human or mechanical—places a heavy burden on our already strained economy."
She took a deep breath.The tea, the moldy concrete, the sharp smoke of hemp cigarettes—all of it burned in her lungs.
"But…" She raised her index finger, accusatory, almost pleading."We need these forces to establish an effective containment ring and to carry out the extermination properly. A single survivor is enough to infect thousands—yes, tens of thousands. We must ensure that no one escapes."
"Is there really no other option?!"An interjection, desperate, almost pleading.
"As already explained: no vaccine, no antibiotic, and no—"
The interjector cut her off.
"I mean—isn't there a more humane method? Gas, poison… anything that would reduce the suffering of those being terminated?"
"No."
The Minister of Defense rose to his feet. His voice sounded as though carved from stone.
"We do not possess poisons in the quantities required. Nor do we have gas. Even if we could produce sufficient chlorine gas, death would be no less agonizing. And how would we remove such volumes of gas from tunnels and stations afterward?"
He folded his arms.A living full stop.
"It is not practical. Not controllable. Not responsible."
The interjector fell silent.Slowly, he sat back down and lowered his head—as if the last argument had just been torn from his chest.
Some in the room discreetly wiped their eyes. Others hastily drank their tea to conceal the trembling of their hands.Even in this chamber of power, a flicker of humanity surfaced for a moment—or what remained of it.
Dr. Bauer continued:
"After termination, all household items that came into contact with the infected will be destroyed. The deployed regiments will then be placed in quarantine in side tunnels. Forty to sixty days. Only then will we know whether Operation Promethium was successful."
A man jumped to his feet."And what do we do if our soldiers have been infected?"
"Simple," growled a delegate seated beneath a flickering lightbulb.His face alternated between light and shadow.
"Then we burn them.Better to lose two regiments than the entire Union. Understood?"
The room froze.
Was that truly the final option?Sacrificing soldiers meant to save humanity?
Now the Comrade for Economic Planning and Rationing spoke up.
"Forgive me, but I cannot tolerate this."
He raised a ceramic cup. Its motif was almost completely worn away.
"We cannot sacrifice additional regiments. At most one—and even that would be a catastrophe. Furthermore, I protest in the strongest terms against the complete destruction of communal infrastructure."
The Consul raised his gaze.A single sentence—yet it filled the room like a command from another world:
"What exactly do you mean, Comrade? Please… explain yourself."
The entire hall held its breath.The Guiding Star had spoken.His word was sacred.
The official cleared his throat nervously.
"The Commune possesses enormous productive capacity. Seed stocks of lettuce, carrots, tomatoes. Mushroom farms. Fluorescent tubes filled with argon for our agricultural systems. Bricks for forges and blast furnaces. Lightbulbs, cables, raw materials. We cannot simply burn all of this."
He gestured to the documents before him.
"I have prepared a re-colonization plan. Two thousand settlers. Construction materials. Detailed blueprints for reconstruction. The six hundred evacuated Communards are to be integrated."
Then—hesitantly—he added:
"Perhaps we could even achieve the military, civilian, and quality-of-life objectives of the original three-year plan… if we preserve these resources."
The Consul nodded slowly.
"Honored Consul—may I supplement the esteemed colleague's remarks?"
Drechsler, Supreme Functionary for Public Enlightenment, rose with a motion that was both deferential and self-assured.
With an extended, soft yet commanding gesture, the Consul granted him the floor.
Drechsler seized the moment immediately—grateful, yet tinged with vanity.
"Esteemed Comrades," he began, adjusting his delicate glasses."It is undeniable that the disinfection of the stations will cause immense geopolitical and domestic upheaval."
He paused, allowing himself a moment to savor their attention—bathed in the cone of light cast by the old filaments, like a figure on a stage.
"Of course, this step is necessary," he continued. "But its effect—its perception—is decisive."He raised his index finger."My ministry is already working on the necessary narrative. Convincing our own population will be easy. To them, this is a protective measure. An act devoted to humanity's survival."
He paused again.
"But the United Stations may interpret this as genocide. As a violation of the Seven Shepherds Agreement. I strongly remind you that this code—this pact—is the final thread holding together a fragile peace."
He spread his arms.
"What happens if they mobilize? If they summon their armies and tear apart this delicate calm? Supplying weapons and volunteers to the Eastern Corporate State and the Southern League is one thing. But direct confrontation? An opening of this magnitude? That would be disastrous."
His words hung heavily in the room.
"If those pigs try anything, then there'll just be war!" one shouted.
"We can't afford that!" another yelled back.
"They should be grateful we're not driving the infected across their borders!" a third snarled.
"I demand order!"
The Consul's voice cut through the hall like a blade.Hard. Short. Almost emotional—yet the weakness vanished at once, like a spark in the wind.
Then he spoke slowly, heavily, like a verdict:
"I understand your concerns. But if we do not act, soon there will be no humanity left.No future.No hope.Only another mass grave."
The hall fell silent.
"Everything that can be safely evacuated will be evacuated. Special attention will be paid to infrastructure and technology.Only one additional regiment will be approved.Operation Promethium begins in three days—at 22:00."
His voice now sounded like cold steel.
"The colonization order will follow one week after the purge.Penal laborers will clear debris and remains.
For the honor of humanity."
That was all.
The Consul had spoken.
His authority smothered every doubt.Every criticism.Every prayer.
Promethium would consume three stations.And they hoped that these flames would extinguish the Blue Fever once and for all.