The celebration in the war room lasted exactly four minutes.
That was how long it took for the holographic projection of the Siberian scrubber to shift from a steady, angry red to a chaotic, strobing violet. The massive, brutalist spire in the frozen heart of Russia was no longer just broadcasting a null-frequency. It was mutating.
Dr. Evans stands at the central console, her face pale in the harsh light of the telemetry data. Her hands fly across the keyboard, trying to isolate the new harmonic signature, but the algorithm keeps slipping through her fingers like water.
"It’s adapting," she says, her voice tight with a mixture of scientific awe and profound terror. "The AI governing the Siberian scrubber analyzed the molecular structure of the Resonance Catalyst the millisecond it deton
