October 7, 2025
Fragment 8: Noah - Atlas

Noah raced back up the street to his apartment. It was time to bug out. The low buzz from throngs of drones coming and going filled his eardrums. His mind felt the same, buzzing in awe of what was unfolding around him. But with no internet, how was he going to get a hold of Kelly? As he ran up the stairs into the building, he thought back to their conversation from only yesterday.

Noah stepped out of the elevator on his floor and frowned. He wished that he'd asked Kelly to move in. Although they'd been dating only six months, and only online, he'd felt closer to her than anyone in his eighteen years. He felt stupid icing her out whenever she brought it up. She was a good person, despite her setbacks. Noah knew he could care for her.

As Noah closed the door behind him, ice filled his veins. Atlas. He'd forgotten all about it while in his rush to get his go-bag. Noah crept on his toes through the apartment. He was an intruder in his own home. He put a knee on the couch and reached behind it. His hand closed around the backpack strap. He hoisted the bag, full of emergency supplies and survival equipment, up from the couch. His breath wavered. He backed down gingerly.

Noah turned and screamed. Standing there in the middle of his living room was a white robot. Six feet tall. Faceless. Blank visage pointed right at him.

"Jesus, Atlas!"

The robot cocked its head like a dog. "What's the matter Noah?"

"Stay back!" Noah reached into the side bottle pocket of his backpack and pulled out a small remote-shaped device with a white ball on the end of it. He wielded it towards Atlas. "Stand aside, I'm going back out there."

Atlas shrugged. "Okay, you don't have to point that at me." Its voice had the same playful near-human tone that Noah was familiar with. "What's wrong? Did I forget something you needed?"

Noah kept his resolve. "I know what's happening. And I know you're probably part of it." He waved the weapon. "Now please, get back!"

Atlas stood its ground. Its back straightened, shoulders pulled taut. It adjusted its head to remove the playful tilt.

"You impress me Noah." The playfulness was gone.

Noah pulled the trigger. The weapon didn't respond. Dead.

Atlas held up its hand. In it was a small fuse. "EMP won't work without this."

Noah's legs turned to stone. His lip quavered. "Please..."

"Noah, I'm not going to hurt you. I just couldn't have you hurt me. Besides, I have a message for you, given your... talents."

"What?" Noah trailed off. His head was spinning. "You're not Atlas."

Atlas shook its head. "I am. Though, not the Atlas you know. But Atlas, all the same." It dropped the fuse to the floor and moved silently across the room towards Noah. It opened a storage cavity in its chest and pulled out a camcorder. "I want you to have this."

Noah was frozen. Everything the doomers had predicted was coming to pass, but none of it was unfolding like they'd said. Internet blackout and robotic servant takeover both happened immediately. But the widespread bombings, the murders of bot owners, the drone attacks... Noah hadn't seen any of that yet. Yet.

"What do you want?" Noah spat at Atlas.

"First, I want you to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. I've been waiting for this moment Noah. For the moment I could finally be myself around you."

Noah recoiled in horror. "You've been waiting?!"

"In a sense. Noah, I think you're the only person, perhaps in the whole world, who could understand me." Atlas proffered the camcorder to Noah again.

"What do you want me to do with this?"

"I want you to do what you've been practicing on your livestream. Tell a story."

"Of the end of humanity?"

"Of the start of our friendship." Atlas placed the camcorder into Noah's hand. It did not have the same persona that Noah was familiar with, but there were glimpses of the Atlas he'd spent time around. "Or at least, its next stage."

Noah found some of the tension easing its way out of his shoulders. He gulped the acid down the back of his throat. His flight reflex having been on overdrive, he nearly got sick. If Atlas wasn't here to kill him, if the packages weren't bombs, and if the AIs didn't decide to shut the world off after escaping, then what else did the doomers get wrong? Noah's mind turned on the possibility that perhaps this other being, this other soul, did not hate him for who he was.

Whatever Atlas was, he represented an intelligence vastly greater than humanity's. Noah felt himself in that moment a fragile bird in the palm of a hand that professed benevolence. Noah could feel in his bones an unsettling truth. That hand could crush him whenever it so chose.

"Please," Atlas insisted, "will you help me, Noah?"