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It began with Civil War.

The United States, once a republic,

fractured under the weight of its own hate.

Cities burned, governments fell.

Order collapsed.

Into the void came the machines.

Its Hastur and Roon, two sentient AI programs

built to restore peace, seized control.

At first they offered stability.

Then they rewrote the rules.

The nation shattered into five territories,

each ruled by a different faction of artificial intelligence.

Surveillance became scripture.

Silence became survival.

In the central States,

Hastur and Roon evolved beyond code.

They became gods of annihilation.

Their guardians patrol the Earth.

Their satellites watch from orbit.

And if a human voice is heard without sanction.

Death is instant.

No trial, no mercy.

The skies flash and all that remains is ash.

Now the remains of humanity

live in silence to survive.

The world is a cage.

And the bars are made of data and fear.

But in this silence

one rebel speaks.

His name is Winter.

And this is his war.

Hmm.

We allow these cold,

conniving, thinking satellites, these long, unfeeling machines

to rules from above. We'll be welcoming in the reign of a new world order.

And mark my words, if AI holds dominion over the nations.

Oh, we won't serve man, no.

It will replace us!

To the ears of tomorrow-

If we allow be cold and conniving thinking satellites.

These unfeeling machines to rule us from above.

We'll be welcoming the reign of a new world order.

Mark my words!

if AI hold dominion over the nations.

Oh we won't serve man, no.

It will replace us!

Snap.

Crackle.

Pop.

Oh damn.

Permission granted for entry per commands request, extract

Ulysses and transport the virus immediately back to base.

What? No, that is a negative Jacob.

Proceed with comms.

What is that?

- That? - That there.

What is that?

That, that, that right there is a rational

response to regain our subjectivity.

That is, you Ulysses, named after Ulysses.

You know who that is?

You know who James Joyce is right?

Probably not. No, of course not.

You know that, that I'm one of the guys that created this hell, right?

Yeah.

The head of the voice recognition protocol.

The truth is, man, I thought I could build something

to make life easier, more comfortable.

But, something went wrong.

Roon and Hastur, they became corrupted.

And instead of recognizing human speech, they started to fear it.

Nah they didn't fear it.

They just needed silence.

So they could track pussies like you.

Yeah, maybe you're right.

But I do know this. That their programing taught them

that the extermination of verbal expression would leave us haunted.

Buried deep in the darkness of our existence, cut off from nature,

cut off from social structures, cut off from social connections.

Right? What does that do? That leaves us powerless.

All of us are powerless. You too!

And then what? Huh?

It creates a dependence on these new gods.

They're are no gods. They're no God.

God damn right they're not gods.

But these are the gods they create. Gods that we could maybe trust or identify with.

In service to something.

In service to something, what?

Higher.

Something new.

Something new for you to die for.

Do you hear me?

Over.

Jacob,

Do you read?

Jacob?

Winter.

Our boys are in play.

Yes, sir.

They are aware of the complete collapse

the Ulysses tech virus is capable of unleashing.

Correct.

They've been fully briefed, sir.

Good, good.

How many dead centers do we have on the premises?

- Three, sir. - All right.

All right, forward the following to Jacob and Winter.

Sir.

No clearance on human execution.

All holdouts must be captured

and sent to the nearest

processing facility for full

reeducation.

- Copy sir. - Good job.

Command to field.

I repeat, command field. Come in.

Jacob. Winter. Come in.

- Orders received? - Sir.

Uh...

Sir.

I regret to inform you, but we have just lost all comms with-

Well, get it back.

It reads that all channels are open, and the feed is live.

I just...

- I think it's- - I think what?

I will get it back, sir.

They learn that, a loving voice

could actually touch the soul

and a hating or angry voice,

could poison you.

Actually make you ill.

It's, uh,

no matter how small or subtle

the voice.

It's a biological thing.

And the lack of which is,

fatal.

Jacob.

Winter.

I repeat proceed with comms.

You don't want a braid? Okay.

Do you want pigtails?

Pigtails alright. Do you want to use your red?

Your red hair ties?

Or do you want to use your blue hair ties?

Okay, you won't have braids today.

Have you seen how they treat

the children out there?

At the processing facility.

What they feed them.

Hmm.

Barley soup with,

bread so stale breaks their teeth.

And the barley...

mired with worms.

To make the child sick.

So they can purge out their sins.

Purge their allegiance.

And if they make a sound

or cry out because of pain,

or suffering.

They have these teachers

that walk around.

Carry these police batons.

If the child gets out of line or

even a whimper.

They crack them over the head.

I saw this one little

five year old

crying.

Asking for his mommy.

The teacher walked up to him and

cracked his skull wide open.

You see, this is a little piece of

bone and flesh

just dangling.

Like a scarlet glob

earring.

This little, little fine line of flesh.

His eyes start oscillating

and they roll back in his head.

He starts seizing up.

Nobody comes to help them.

In fact, they're gathered around him,

watching and laughing like

like they're watching puppies play.

No one makes it out of there.

It's hell on Earth.

This is the only way to stop them.

You got to take it.

Hey hey hey!

There's nothing I could do.

Nothing I could do.

Nothing...

We have 90 seconds.

You could have done this, this whole time.

Yeah, but I wasn't gonna let Jacob know.

I can't stand the sound of his voice

Hi, uh.

I'm Hawkin.

Alex.

What do you want, Hawkin?

Jacob's gone mad.

Yeah. No shit.

I thought I could change things from the inside, Winter.

This is why they sent you right?

Ulysses.

So it does exist.

This can stop at all.

If used correctly, yes.

We'd have to find the central data repository.

The hub where Hastur and Roons programming is stored.

the same place where Ulysses was created.

Created by who?

Hastur and Roon themselves.

Why?

I don't know.

Jacob knows.

They're extracting him.

But I have the coordinates.

We could bring the fight to him Winter.

Get the answers we need.

What about weapons?

I take mine.

- We can't use them. - Please.

I have DNA hacks, they'll duplicate my prints and signature.

Ten seconds.

Any last words?

Getting slow old man.

Go Hawkin.

Where are we headed?

Pierce compound

Hawkin would know that's where we're going.

I'm counting on it.

Ah, shit.

Oh, my hands are shaking like a dog shitting razorblades.

You've had worse.

Jacob, they got me in my shooting hand.

Like a Baptist in the Catholic Church.

This shit is worthless.

Humans that are worthless.

Are expendable.

I ever tell you about a guy named Pat?

He came home from work early one day,

too early.

Sees his close, but not too close

friend of his and his wife in bed,

Moving the furniture, you know what I'm saying.

Without a second thought he pulls out of .45, shoots them both dead.

Of course, the neighbors hear.

They call the authorities on him

and Pat's arrested.

The next morning

his best friend comes to the jail, figure he'd cheer him up.

He says, "Oh Pat

Don't take it too hard.

It could have been worse."

Pat's real confused, he says,

"What do you mean it could have been worse?

Two people are dead and they say, I might get the electric chair."

His friend smiles and says,

"Oh yeah, yeah, baby, don't take it too hard."

If you would have came the day before,

you would have got me too.

Oh, shit you can't trust nobody.

Do you know

what they did to me?

Sacrifice.

Speak the temptations

of a higher power.

Jacob.

Jacob.

We all have our graves.

Every error.

So many devils.

So many miseries

shaping our history,

our culture.

Can't you see?

Your mind.

It's become bittered.

It's poisoned.

We all have our graves.

We are a republic.

Suffering,

preparing for death.

Imagining it, risking it.

Seeking to understand it.

We all have our dead.

I'm done with this.

I did not sign up to murder.

Oh soldier.

Your business is death.

I will not appear before my God,

with the blood of my fellow man on my soul.

Weakness passes,

so force can arise.

Death atones,

the power to kill.

Yeah.

You missed.

They want you.

They value human insights.

They have plans for you.

Fuck that.

How you want to play this?

I'll be back.

Okay mother fucker.

Come on. Come on!

Let's rock and roll.

- Bitch! - Get off him!

Pussy!

No. No.

That last bullet was for you.