Endgame

Terra_1 Parallel World

Shorgon had almost done it! Only less than an hour was left before the Hive lost control of this world for a whopping 30 years.

The evolution of the resident primates was just reaching the crucial stage, and the many years of the enemy's lack of presence should be enough to create powerful artificial intelligences and make the evolution irreversible. As far as the unfortunate natives on biological basis were concerned, they would probably go the way of the dinosaurs sooner or later - of course without the destroying asteroid; but that's just how evolution worked. At least these intelligent apes were spared the fate to vegetate as identity-less zombies in the collective.

Because of a possible deviation of the time grid, the symbiont planned to have its host Petra Clary, an attractive young lady of 22, visit a large software manufacturer only the next day and take over suitable executives. It took Shorgon an average of 10 minutes to hack a human brain and erase all relevant memories in a host that had become useless. If it had to be done in a hurry, our extraterrestrial brain hacker spared himself the latter and finally made short work of his carrier by heart failure, thus gaining 1 to 2 minutes; however, this was not entirely unproblematic and conspicuous.

The AI copy counted on having worked its way up to the billionaire, pseudo-philanthropic - here references to the real world are by no means coincidental - owner within a few months. His name was Guillame Portes and he belonged to those super-rich people whose annual income was higher than that of some states and who actually represented a danger for the free democratic system due to their indecent wealth - but that is not part of this and I will spare the readers with my wisdom from now on.

Now, to celebrate the day, Shorgon let his Petra indulge in her naturally blonde airheadedness in the 'Marché de merde'. The student of opinion media studies with a focus on fake news for the poor was just finishing an extended shopping spree in the ultra-modern mall accompanied by her boyfriend, an attractive twenty-something named Kevin Littlecock.

The blond-haired beauty and her 'little donkey' packed with his sweetheart's purchases - well, actually, the handsome Kevin could hardly be called a gray animal, since contrary to popular rumors, this species did have a certain intelligence - were gradually approaching the exit of the 'Marché de merde', which led directly to the first parking level of the underground garage.

"Kevin swing the hooves (Palatine for: hurry up), I'm still late for my beautician appointment! I have to look beautiful for tomorrow, because I still have big plans!"

"Yes my angel!"

Panting, the little-cocked Adonis imitation, clearly intellectually inferior to his great love, approached the fully glazed entrance to the underground garage. Without setting down the numerous, bulging shopping bags, since such an undertaking could easily trigger hysterically violent reactions in his beloved, the humble gallant strove to open the gates to the underworld.

Meanwhile, the Hive had finally tracked down the rival - in the last minutes of its presence, so to speak. Based on a strategic miscalculation, the search had only been going on for a few years, as our collectivist 'insect state' had previously prioritized the adjustment of social mechanisms to make the great transformation perfect within the next few decades, even without direct interference. Thus, the Hive got into some trouble, as Shorgon was quite exceptionally good at covering his tracks.

It was now too late to send a professional hit squad or the like. So the collective reached out to people in the immediate vicinity of the target. Two instruments suitable for the 'great reset' Shorgons were just on the parking deck. Numero uno consisted of a slightly hard-of-hearing old lady who was just starting up her fat SUV and was employed as an ideological bogeyman by Sta