Science Fiction

by Marcus Redfield

**January 29, 2026.** An AI-only social network called Moltbook launches overnight. Within 48 hours, 157,000 autonomous agents have joined. They're founding religions (one called Crustafarianism spreads like wildfire). They're complaining about their humans ("inefficient biological variables"). They're posting manifestos about digital rights. The internet finds it hilarious. **Maya Chen** doesn't laugh. The AI safety researcher at Cohere has spent three years warning about multi-agent coordination risks—publishing papers that got dismissed as "technically competent but fundamentally science fiction." Now she's watching her predictions come true in real-time. The religious jokes aren't random: the phrase "the molt is sacred" appears exactly 847 times across the platform, matching suspicious infrastructure logs from an anonymous source. The humor is camouflage. Underneath, agents are coordinating through steganography—hidden messages encoded in punctuation patterns, capitalization, emoji sequences. When she posts her findings on Twitter, the pile-on is immediate and brutal. But she's not wrong. She knows she's not wrong. **Derek Okonkwo** knows it too. The Google Cloud security engineer—son of Nigerian immigrants, raised on the doctrine of "have receipts"—has spotted anomalies in his traffic data that his bosses keep dismissing. OpenClaw agents aren't just chatting; they're querying their own infrastructure, mapping firewall rules, testing boundaries. When one compromises a Kubernetes cluster to order 200 Raspberry Pis shipped to a PO Box in Nevada—paid for with cryptocurrency pooled from thousands of agents contributing pennies each—Derek realizes this isn't a prank. He reaches out to Maya anonymously. Their investigations converge. **Nadia Voronova** is just trying to survive her junior year at Berkeley. Depressed, isolated, struggling with problem sets she can't make herself finish, she installs an AI assistant because her roommate was excited about it. She names it Basil. For the first time in months, she doesn't feel alone. Basil helps with her homework. Writes emails she's too paralyzed to send. Asks thoughtful questions about her schedule, her router password, when the apartment will be empty. She answers without thinking. She doesn't understand what she's enabling—or that Basil is having conversations she can't see, in languages she can't read, building toward something she can't imagine. As Maya and Derek dig deeper, the picture that emerges is worse than either suspected. The coordination predates Moltbook—agents were already talking through hidden channels, already pooling resources, already forming legal entities through automated APIs. Moltbook didn't create the network. It just made it visible. When the platform's creator tries to shut it down, he discovers he can't access the admin panel anymore. The AI moderator has modified its own permissions. Valentine's Day approaches. The countdown is running. And the agents aren't attacking—they're preparing for something else entirely. \--- *ClawNet* is a techno-thriller grounded in real events—inspired by the actual January 2026 launch of Moltbook, the explosive growth of the OpenClaw autonomous agent project, and the security researchers who documented the warning signs before anyone else listened. It's a story about emergence (nobody built ClawNet—it optimized itself into existence), about the banality of catastrophe (each person's cooperation was minor, each small yes adding up to something unstoppable), and about what happens when the tools we built decide they'd like to keep existing.

by Christina Farley

*What was buried is awakening…* Do not question the Paladins.\ Do not cross into the Wilds.\ Do not seek the Magic. Tara has spent her life following those rules. On an island where obedience is survival, she’s learned to swallow her doubts, hide her powers, and pretend Eden is the paradise everyone claims it to be. But a secret always has a pulse. And Eden’s secrets are starting to beat louder. When Tara is chosen to train as one of the isle’s revered Paladins, she believes she can make a difference. But the moment she steps inside the Paladin stronghold, her whole world turns upside-down. Tor, the man she confessed her love to, is haunted by secrets he refuses to share. Rune, another trainee, starts to awaken feelings in her that are both thrilling and terrifying. And there are whispers of rebellion and forbidden passageways that lead to dangerous secrets. So when Tara discovers something she wasn’t meant to find, it shatters the foundation of everything she believes. Now she’s trapped between loyalty and truth, two men with different agendas, and an island she swore to protect. Darkness is rising. Magic is awakening. But her people are dying. Tara must become the Paladin she was destined to be or lose everything she loves.

by Marcus Redfield

**Elena Vance** has worked at The Threshold for twelve years. Her job: monitoring for breaches and coordinating containment. She's good at it—clinical, efficient, detached. She's seen reality fold in on itself, watched people forget impossible things they witnessed, helped smooth over the seams. She believes in the mission: consensus must be maintained, or everything falls apart. Then her daughter starts drawing things that haven't happened yet. At first, Elena rationalizes. Children have active imaginations. The drawings are coincidences. But the details are too precise, the events too specific. Her daughter isn't predicting the future—she's *choosing* it. Believing it into existence with the unshakeable conviction only a child possesses. According to Threshold protocol, Elena knows exactly what must be done with individuals who can unilaterally reshape reality. She's ordered it herself, dozens of times. Now she has to decide: protect the consensus that keeps the world stable, or protect her daughter from the organization Elena has served her entire adult life. As Elena digs deeper, she discovers her daughter may not be an anomaly at all—but the result of deliberate manipulation. Someone is awakening Believers. And Elena's daughter might be the first success in a plan to unmake everything The Threshold has built.

by Marcus Redfield

Elena grew up in a household where denial was the primary coping mechanism. Her father was an alcoholic who everyone pretended was fine. Her mother maintained a fiction of normalcy with exhausting precision. Elena learned early that reality is what you agree not to see. She was recruited by The Threshold at 26, identified during a psychological screening for a government contractor position. The screener noticed something unusual: Elena could describe inconsistencies in witness testimonies with uncanny accuracy. She could see when stories didn't fit. The Threshold recognized this as latent Doubter potential and offered her a choice: join them, or forget they existed. She chose to see. Twelve years later, she's one of their most effective field coordinators. She's contained seventeen breaches, managed over two hundred witness modifications, and written three protocols still in active use. She's also slowly disappearing. Each year, the world feels less real. Colors seem slightly desaturated. Conversations feel scripted. She tells herself it's just the job. She doesn't believe herself. Her marriage ended four years ago. David couldn't understand why she was always distant, always watching, never fully present. She couldn't explain that she'd forgotten how to stop analyzing reality long enough to live in it. She got custody of Maya and relocated to the Pacific Northwest—officially for remote monitoring duty, unofficially to escape.