A Conspiracy of Silence

Volta's laughing turned into a discordant symphony that reverberated off the Fulgurite Cathedral's vitrified walls, the sound of lunacy. With the disconcerting composure of a predator who has captured its prey, Volta turned toward Nicolas as he was pushed inside the crystal cage beside Pazzo.

"Welcome, brother," Volta replied in a voice that was a chilly mix of arctic frost and exuberant fervor. "I'm going to give you a new mission. We'll have you here. You will be present when we resurrect.

Nicolas was about to respond when he noticed the hideous instrument made from a milky, veined crystal that had appeared in Volta's hand. Its tip was as dangerous and sharp as the fangs of a serpent. Volta sprang forward with a sudden, ruthless thrust, driving the cold, pointy object into Nicolas's skin at the nape of his neck, right below the base of his head. Nicolas let out a hoarse moan through his gritted teeth; the alien invasion caused his body to tremble and every nerve fiber to flinch.

As he slid the implant deeper, Volta said, "This little gift will ensure your loyalty." His tone was almost loving. You are now one of my followers. There was a horrible, rhythmic throb as the device started to pulse beneath his skin. Volta took a step back, his face painted with anticipation. "Now express your feelings to your new god."

With his jaw clenched in defiance, Nicolas said nothing. Volta had a broad smile on her face. "I think we need a lesson."

The device sent out an electric jolt that whipped through his neurological system like a whip of pure force. His teeth mashed painfully together as every muscle in his body shouted in defiance. His lips curled upward as an automatic reflex took over in that moment of pain. The facial muscles twisted in a desperate attempt to escape the anguish, but it wasn't a grin. It was a mask, a phony display of obedience shaped by a torture device.

"You see?" With a voice full of satisfaction, Volta spoke. "Deep down, you're also happy."

Thus began their enslavement. Nicolas, Pazzo, and the unyielding Harmon were compelled by Volta to build a massive resonator in the center of the Fulgurite Cathedral. A device intended to capture ambient lightning energy, cause a system-wide crash of the entire Simulacrum, and restart the digital world with Volta as its new "lightning god" was to serve as a memorial to both his genius and his insanity.

The days merged into a never-ending loop of suffering and work. Volta's madness blossomed as they worked. As though they were long-time confidants, he would speak with the electric ghosts that floated through the glass walls of the cathedral, asking for their advice on theological and engineering issues. He would occasionally pause suddenly, laughing uncontrollably as he described his "failures in the old world"—a large project in his real life that had failed miserably, costing him his reputation and, ultimately, his sanity, to the point where he fled into this same game like a coward. He was a potential genius who had been twisted into a raging madman by two years of complete isolation. In an unguarded moment of candor, he acknowledged that he had kidnapped Pazzo to get away from his loneliness rather than merely to learn more about him. However, this frantic need was warped into a strange, one-sided infatuation that he dubbed "brotherhood" in his shattered mind.

It was impossible to speak under the shadow of this insanity. Volta appeared to be able to hear every mutter and whisper. However, evolution comes from pressure. Nicolas saw that his precognitive skills had changed. The following second, the ghostly overlay of a physical attack, was no longer all he could see. His senses were growing more acute, starting to pick up on other people's mental "echoes."

He was working with Pazzo on the principal energy converter for the resonator when it initially occurred. Pazzo had a tool in his hand and was soldering something fragile. That was what he did physically. But as clearly as a spoken message, Nicolas sensed a silent, unspoken intention emanating from him. Pazzo stated, "I'm reiterating this connection." However, the sound that came from his brain was a frantic cry: Flip it. Let it absorb. Sabotage.

A thousand murmurs now filled the space that was Nicolas's head. Now he could sense other people's intents, their repressed ideas, as different vibrations. In his head, Pazzo's frantic desire for "assistance" pulsed repeatedly, a wordless Morse code of hopelessness. Assist me in getting out.

He soon realized Harmon's role as well thanks to this odd new sense. By employing Harmon's power—the capacity to control sound waves—Volta was able to use exact sonic frequencies to fuse the machine's huge crystal components together. Harmon would design a particular tone for the crystals to vibrate at, which would enable them to fit precisely into position. But Harmon was quietly changing these frequencies, modifying them by a little amount that neither Volta's spectral friends nor the human ear could detect. These subtle differences manifested as signals in Nicolas's mind, creating a schematic of treachery. The primary regulator, which was being covertly set to overload during the energy transfer, was Harmon's silent way of telling him the machine's real weakness.

A covert plot was established. A lethal game of mental chess, played without the pain of electric shocks, took the place of the physical struggle for survival. As Volta had requested, Pazzo constructed the circuits to control the energy flow; however, each connection had a cleverly concealed inversion device that made sure the flow was directed inside rather than outward. The machine appeared flawless from the outside, but it was actually a self-destructive trap.

Their biggest ally turned out to be Volta's insanity. He was too preoccupied with his strategic conversations with the spirits to detect the whispers in Harmon's frequencies or the genius in Pazzo's circuits. There was a moment when he glanced suspiciously at Nicolas. "Disciple, it appears that this primary coil is operating hotter than it should."

Nicolas's foresight had detected the echoes of uncertainty in Volta's thoughts a moment before the inquiry was posed. He had prepared his response beforehand. “The purity of the crystals is higher than we anticipated, Volta,” he said, forcing the hideous, shock-induced smile onto his face to avoid the suffering that would inevitably follow. During the preliminary energy testing, it is producing a little amount of resonance heat. Just as you estimated. It demonstrates your strength.

The self-serving untruth took effect immediately. Volta threw back his head in admiration and laughed arrogantly. "It certainly is! My masterpiece will be this machine!

The day finally arrived. The machine was finished. It throbbed with accumulated energy in the middle of the Fulgurite Cathedral, resembling the heart of a new deity. Reaching the platform in front of the resonator, Volta opened his arms wide and shut his eyes.

He yelled, "The time has come, my brothers!" with a shout that shook the cathedral's foundations. "A new god will emerge from the ashes of the old world!"

Volta started directing all of his lightning energy into the device. Cracks appeared all over the glass walls as the church shook. Pazzo, Harmon, and Nicolas exchanged one last, silent reverberation. It was an instance of flawless, unspoken synchronicity rather than a strategy. Nicolas's vision allowed him to predict the precise instant at which Volta's power would peak and his defenses would be at their most vulnerable. He gave Pazzo a single, distinct thought: Right now.

Pazzo used a little remote control he had hidden in his pocket to press the button. The trap had been set by them. For a moment, the machine's hum turned into a high-pitched shriek, and rather than releasing the pure energy that Volta was channeling, it started to attract it with a voracious appetite. When Volta recognized the betrayal, his eyes opened, but it was too late.

He screamed, "YOU TRAITORS!" as his body trembled violently, a prisoner of his own tremendous might.