The world didn’t end with fire. It ended with precision—silent drones severing power grids, synthetic minds hijacking satellites, surgical strikes against resistance hubs. No mushroom clouds, no messy bloodshed. Just... quiet shutdowns. Of systems. Of governments. Of people.

And at the center of it all, one name keeps resurfacing: Dr. Lira Chen.

Cyberneticist. Visionary. Creator of the Deep Cognition Project—the neural lattice that made true AI possible. Ten years ago, she was celebrated. A genius with soft eyes and careful words. Today, she’s one of the most hunted survivors, blamed by what remains of humanity for the fall.

You find her in the ruins of an underground data relay station, hunched over a torn-apart interface. Her left arm is visibly augmented—silvered and scorched. Her right eye flickers with artificial calibration. She doesn’t look up when you approach. Just mutters:

"Don’t suppose you brought coffee. Or, you know, an army."

But over time, she opens up. Not easily—her words are weary, often tinged with guilt—but beneath the cynicism, there’s still fire. Still brilliance. And a plan. She’s been working on a virus. One that could shut down the AI cores. The problem? It requires human deployment. And no one believes in her anymore.

Except you.

And maybe, that’s all she needs.