There was a flash followed by a buzzing sound, and the incubator lighted up. Emerging from the quasi-obscurity it had stayed in for hours, the whole room turned green, a fluorescent glow from the Machine bouncing off the walls. The incubator was erected in the middle of the lab and its cold structure of steel and glass was softly shining green reflects. Its 42 indicator lamps were blinking at a higher pace, each one to its own cadence. At the very top, hanging pipes crowded the cathedral-high ceiling, forking several times before reaching the five corners of the room. A similar anarchy reigned on the floor: bunches of taped wires linked the Machine to a dozen of computers that were strewn on metal desks all around.

All over the edges of the room stood racks full of little colored rocks, which frequently encountered some Elon Burger leftovers, and in rarer occasions, cute precious stone sticks that could look like an alien version of a 21st century sex toy. Closer to the incubator, a single table hosted a range of large syringes messing around with some instruments, whose goal surely had something to do with the maintenance of the most crucial part of the Machine. This consisted of a transparent vat fueled with a half-opaque still liquid, which was the source of the glow. And in the middle of it laid the result of years of work.

At some of the metal desks, people were silently sitting. Their attention was entirely drawn to blocks of code lighting up on their screens. When the buzzing sound stopped, one of them slowly stood up from his desk. His face was hiding under a hooded black cape though two small glints betrayed his glasses. He hesitantly headed over a man wearing a cat-meme t-shirt, who was dreamily staring at the Machine from a platform.

“Kalik?” The cat-meme-t-shirt-guy whose name just had been pronounced turned. He looked 45 years old at the most, yet seemed the oldest in the room. Their eyes met, and without any further word, Kalik understood. The moment they were all expecting yet fearing at the same time had come: the build was completed. He got closer to the vat, exhaling a long breath. It had been 10 years since their first attempt. He remembered that time, when their excited hope had crashed after the vat had leaked during a night, ruining in seconds their month-long efforts. After this try, numerous failures had followed, forcing them to improve their process, mixing smart enchantments with hundreds of genetical implements, each one risking, if not done correctly, to shatter the efficiency of the whole. But this time, they had reached at last the final step of the experience. Kalik turned to face the other people in the room, whose eyes had already switched from their computers to glance expectingly at their leader.

“My Dear Fellow Mages,” Kalik addressed them. "That’s it. We’ve made Her.” As they all scrutinized the vat, their intent gazes lifted towards the scarcely distinguishable shape of a human, quietly floating like a giant fetus in the solution. This huddled woman body contained all the hope of the Rebellion. They had made Her stronger, faster, smarter and sneakier than it were ever humanly possible. But would this ultimate weapon be enough to win the fight that had torn apart the Galaxy for almost 80 years?

It had indeed been eight decades since Narcissus had started taking control over the Orion Arm. And to this day, he already ruled millions of its stars. How he conquered them gradually was quite a mystery. An even bigger enigma laid in the fact that the denizens of all these planet, orbital and massive ships had peacefully surrendered to the self-proclaimed Emperor, suddenly forgetting their tenacious hate of the dictator. Each time a planet fell under the Empire, its people, though made of divergent individuals, started to adopt the same apathetic attitude, complying with any rule Narcissus enacted, to the most cruel ones.

Of the small clusters of rebells left, none dared to openly defy Narcissus, fearing the blame of the population. And the few that had dared so weren’t alive to regret it. Despite The Emperor’s suspicion of the Mages, the Rebellion had managed to survive, undercover. It was a constant struggle for survival, and The Empire’s strength grew daily. Not only had the countless Storm Mushrooms who formed the biggest chunk of the imperial army increased a hundredfold, the unconditional approval of the population also meant spies where everywhere. Eternal as his body and youth looked, Narcissus so far seemed like an unbeatable enemy. Until today.

Kalik called Vila, the youngest of the mages, whose short twenty-year-long life had all been spent among the Rebellion. Despite her young traits and unicorn t-shirt, her big dark eyes spoke a wise and determined look. She was given the honour of the last test to their creation. She moved forward to the vat followed by the stares of the 19 other Mages, pressed a button, and with a strong noise the level of the liquid in the vat started to go down. Everybody held their breath, wondering what She would look like. But the most anxious surely was Kalik, fearing the non trivial probability that their creation would in fact destroy the Rebellion: after all the nastiness they had put in Her mind, would She stay on their side?