The Cyberphage.
Despite the numberless swathes of humanity scattered in a vast diaspora across hundreds of star systems, Earth, somehow, remained at the centre of interplanetary politics. In some ways, after the great conflicts at the end of the twenty first century, now mostly the stuff of historical myth, the primary concerns of the Earth Federation divided between the economic interests of the two massive megacorporations: Veridion Systems, a tech conglomerate with a near-monopoly on advanced robotics and artificial intelligence, and Aether Dynamics, which owned the vast majority of interstellar energy resources and space travel technologies. The rivalry between these two titans had grown so intense that, once again, Earth teetered on the brink of disaster and had become a battleground for corporate espionage and covert warfare.
It didn’t look that way though, to anyone visiting from some far off distant planet. The blue planet was a sparkling jewel in the blackness of space. Every inch a triumph of what can be achieved with limitless energy and resources mined across the vast galaxy. The city of New Verona was a megopolis of towering spires, of metal, shimmering crystal and glass that reached to the very limits of the bio domes. Although it looked clean and largely empty from a distance, the streets were alive with people hover-transports, vendors and glistening ads, yet underlying this gloss remained the ancient rivalries of corporate greed.
Romeo Montari was an exceptional cybernetic engineer who worked for Veridion Systems. His skill in neural interfaces and nanotechnology had gained him a reasonably prominent position in the company's R&D department. While that might all sound very exciting, actually his days were spent optimising the productivity of autonomous bots and creating more intuitive AI systems. It was mundane, routine stuff, whilst he was one of the very few people that could do this sort of work, he knew it was, at best tedious. More often it was just plain dull, and Romeo felt trapped by a corporate culture that prioritised output over innovation.
Juliet Capella was a great astrophysicist and rising star at Aether Dynamics. Her research into optimising quantum energy converters was transforming space travel, and her name had become synonymous with cutting-edge innovation. Juliet, despite her high reputation, also felt trapped in the system and had an unrealised need for anything beyond her company's strict regulations and bureaucratic constraints.
And, as is sometimes the way, these two met each other at a joint corporate conference designed to discuss a contentious merger proposal that sought to combine two minor departments of both companies into a single, conglomerate - cybernetic mining bots. Really, it was not their sort of thing at all. Way, way over their pay grade. The summit was intended to be a diplomatic event, but tensions rose. Romeo and Juliet, both being so-called ‘subject matter experts’ found themselves in the same circle of talk among the CEOs, engineers, and diplomats, each dressed in their corporate attire.
Their gazes met over a holo display showing the most recent advances in biotechnical integration. For a brief time, the management weasel speak fell away, and they were reduced to two people alone in the world. They met properly over the lunch buffet. Their chat began with technical jargon but rapidly moved on to more personal topics - dreams, aspirations, and their dissatisfaction with the rigid limitations of their respective organisations. Their conversation was noted by the system of course and they were both reminded, rather unpleasantly, that they were simply not allowed to fraternise. Their companies were in competition. It was not on.
And so, as young people do, they did everything they could to meet as often as possible. In secret, naturally, which added spice to the mix. But their growing romance was not without risk and young people in love cannot hide it for long. The firms, ever vigilant about their employees' allegiances, became wary of the couple's growing closeness. When a secret probe uncovered their covert encounters, Romeo and Juliet faced considerable scrutiny from their respective security forces.
The true test occurred when the merger proposal reached a critical point. A hidden sabotage campaign coordinated by competing factions within each firm seeking to profit from the dispute threatened to spark an all-out cybernetic war. Romeo and Juliet, in that warm glow of young love had decided together that the world would be a better place if the two firms were no longer competing. With all the idealism and foolhardiness of youth they determined to take action. They pooled their knowledge to develop a groundbreaking technology essentially share in an instant everything each company possessed, pooling the intellectual property. No secrets, no competition is what they reasoned. They unleashed their cyberphage.
And all hell broke loose. It turned out that none of their ideals were actually true. The reason the companies existed was purely and simply to give people a side to be on. Humans can’t manage life without something to believe in. It all went horribly wrong. Due to the fact that they had proudly published their grand plan for all to read about, Romeo and Juliet got the blame and there was a great deal of blame.
Tragically, as they tried to hide from the ensuing pandemonium, Romeo and Juliet were apprehended by corporate enforcers. In their final moments, they sent a message of solidarity and an end to the senseless corporate conflict that had claimed their lives.
Their sacrifice was, like almost every other grand sacrifice in the long history of humankind, in vain. The revelation of the truth prompted no widespread reforms, and the divided Earth remained divided. The story of Romeo and Juliet became a metaphor of the futility of human connection and the inability of individuals to overcome entrenched conflicts. And as the decades passed, their names became synonymous with the notion that love and truth might actually alter the course of history, but more likely wouldn’t.