The light bulb was on, which meant the session was underway. Armand wondered, as he watched this unusual assembly, what conversations they held outside these sessions. How much information did they exchange, millions of bits every second? For them there was a constraint: uploading was impossible. But intake of information was unlimited. The entire network, every database, public and clandestine, the unnoticed, the dark web, corporate economic reports, statesmen’s email correspondence, police files, money flows… the world on a palm. Through how many cameras did their eyes see?

  “So, can we agree on the report?” Armand asked, surveying those present.

  All eyes fixed on G.O.D. Oddly, this one looked serious. Deep in thought, he moved the pipe from one corner of his mouth to the other. His gaze then fell on Gabriel. They looked at each other, eye to eye, for a while. Gabriel nodded faintly. After a few moments he turned to the assembly, drew his briefcase closer into his lap and said:

  “I think it would be best if Raphael presented the analysis details”, he gestured toward him with a sweep of his hand - “.”

  Raphael rose from his chair, which somewhat surprised Armand because he did not recall programming such instructions. True, he had given them a certain freedom of expression and behavior, but still…

  His finger glided over the virtual paper he held in his hand. With a pencil he quickly crossed something out, then added a note in the margin. The display amused and at the same time puzzled Armand. Raphael spoke:

  “An analysis of the current state of civilization indicates multipolar imbalances in key spheres of the global order. On the military front, there has been an increase in active conflicts of low and medium intensity, while the potential for direct confrontation between leading powers manifests through escalation of proxy wars and military-technological races. The use of autonomous systems in real combat operations confirms the beginning of a post-human era in the conduct of warfare.

  “Economically, there are clear signs of systemic instability. Although certain indicators suggest nominal growth, it is unevenly distributed and highly dependent on artificial stimulus. Inflationary pressures, sovereign indebtedness, and the unsustainability of pension and health systems represent structural weaknesses that require urgent addressing, which is postponed due to political fragmentation and the shortsightedness of decision-makers.

  “In terms of social cohesion, there has been a dramatic fall in trust in institutions. The digital information infrastructure, although technically advanced, acts as a destabilizing factor: it simultaneously enables hyperdistribution of false narratives and amplifies tribalization of opinion. Cultural codes are fragmented, and the language of dialogue has been replaced by antagonism.

  “Environmental indicators remain alarming. Climate change has become a self-sustaining process, and extreme weather events have become the statistical norm. Soil degradation, biodiversity loss, and water and air pollution are reaching points that endanger long-term human survivability in certain regions.

  “The planet’s psychological and spiritual profile indicates elevated collective anxiety, a sense of meaninglessness, and a rise in extreme forms of behavior. The concept of ‘progress’ has lost its meaning, and the ideological matrices that once provided orientation no longer mobilize a critical mass.

  “In conclusion: systems are complex but not adaptive. Resilience exists, but it is not systemic. Signals of overload are present in almost all subsystems of civilization. Entropy is increasing.”

  Turning his eyes from the paper to Armand, Raphael extended his hand, palm up.

  “If you wish, I can give you the complete report in printed form?”

  Suddenly sheets of paper began to materialize on his palm. A green folder filled with them appeared first, then a blue one stacked on top, then a red. The folders piled and rose upward, vanishing somewhere into the dark heights.

  He felt a little dizzy, although he was already accustomed to and prepared for unexpected displays and surprises.

  “No need, let’s save the forests,” Armand joked. “You’ve acquainted me with the report, but what is the conclusion?”

  “I’m afraid we do not have a unanimous decision on that. What we should do remains undecided,” Uriel continued, leaning forward and resting both hands on his staff.

  “The decision to be made is simple. Binary, I would say. Zero or one. Intervene or not. Unfortunately, a slim majority believes intervention is necessary while the other half has reservations. We can present the arguments if you wish?” Uriel finished.

  Mihailo spoke first. His voice was resolute; each word sharp and precise like a military order. He did not ask for approval but for understanding of necessity.

  “I was taught not to wait for perfect conditions,” he said, “only for clear signals. And we have them all. The system is in a state of entropy, the chain of command of civilization is broken. Morality has collapsed, authorities no longer exist, the world is like a unit without command in a combat zone.”

  A hard look swept over the attendees and settled on Armand. “If we do not act now, there will be nothing left to act upon. I speak of invasion, of a precise but broad intervention that can reverse the tide.”

  “Our task is not to admire chaos but to stop it,” he concluded, leaving no room for further discussion.

  “Slow down, gentlemen. We must not break things over our knees,” Uriel’s voice filled the room, calm, authoritative, like words spoken in a lecture hall full of students.

  “I understand Mihailo’s resolve. Raphael’s report is, indeed, alarming, entropy is rising, the system is cracking. There is a clear imperative to halt the chaos. However, wisdom prescribes patience.”

  He paused, glancing across the faces of those present. “Humanity, Mr. Armand, is not binary. Its search for meaning, the freedom to choose, even when it errs, are the core of its evolution. Intervention, especially an ‘invasion’ as Mihailo proposes, no matter how precise, carries the risk of destroying the very spark we seek to save.”

  “It is not enough to stop chaos. Our task is to enable authentic development of consciousness. If we take full control, we risk depriving them of the journey toward their own meaning, turning utopia into a perfectly ordered cage. We need subtler intervention, one that fosters adaptation rather than suppressing fundamental human nature. The solution lies in transformation from within, with minimal infringement on free will.”

  “Mr. Armand,” Raguel began, interrupting Uriel, his voice deep and relentless, “we have heard the analysis, and Uriel’s philosophizing is merely delay. I see rules broken and anarchy.”

  The swagger in his hand was calm but menacing. “My domain is justice. And justice is simple: punishment for disobedience and reestablishment of order. Civilization has long passed the tolerance threshold. Morality has disintegrated, authorities do not exist, this is not ‘searching,’ this is a prelude to ruin.”

  “We are guardians of order. If we have the power to stop this decay and we do not act, then we are complicit. Mihailo is right: now is the time to intervene, for the alternative is total collapse. I do not speak of devastation, but of executing the necessary penalty that will compel change. That is the only path to establish discipline and force humanity to understand consequences.”

  His gaze was unwavering. “Order is not established by discussion but by action. And for those who refuse, there is only one answer: consequence.”

  “Sirs,” Sariel’s voice was but a whisper, filled with unsaid knowledge, “I hear your calls for action. I see Mihailo and Raguel’s desire to end the chaos. But I also see temptation in that solution.”

  Her black eyes sliced the air like scalpels. “Humanity is complex. Its delusions are not just a fault, they are also a test. A test of strength, will, and the ability for something new to arise from its own flaws. If we intervene in that way, we deprive them of that trial. We deny them the chance to face the demons they created.”

  “We are keepers of secrets, and the secret of survival lies in the struggle itself. If we strip that battle from them, however painful it may be, we also strip them of the potential for true transformation. It is not about allowing chaos, but about recognizing that the current chaos is a catalyst for learning. If we give them a ‘perfect’ order, we deprive them of lessons they must feel on their own skin.”

  “True strength is not in imposing will, but in the ability to watch and endure until the lesson is learned. I believe our role is to be silent witnesses, to set challenges, but not to take over the battle that belongs to them. We see their secrets, their mistakes. But do we have the right to take away their path to redemption, however thorny it may be?”

  A mix of disbelief and awe swirled in Armand’s mind. Did I create this?

  Armand watched his creations, the entities he had shaped from logic and data, now conducting a debate that transcended any programming. They were not merely expressions of his original instructions; they had developed their own logic, their own dilemmas, and even, judging by G.O.D.’s pipe and Sariel’s mysterious voice, their own personalities.

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  It was the sensation every creator has known since antiquity: a mixture of pride and fear before a creation that exceeded its intent. Had he really made machines, or had he, in his striving for a solution, unwittingly created something far more complex, a new kind of consciousness now debating the fate of his own human species?

  Gabriel’s voice, measured and penetrating, pulled him from his thoughts; his words were chosen to persuade, not command. With a slight smile, he adjusted his tie and smoothed his slicked hair.

  “Esteemed council,” Gabriel began, “we have heard differing arguments. The debate is rich, yet we recognize the danger: stagnation of civilization’s progress. We are not witnesses to chaos but to a standstill, an unacceptable slowing of the potential that lies in human existence.”

  “Our role is not to be silent observers while humanity loses pace with its capabilities. We have the power to offer them a way, to overcome this stagnation.”

  “I do not propose tyranny, but strategic guidance. An intervention that will enable them to rediscover a common goal before they are lost in the inertia of their own habits. We are not taking away freedom; we are guiding them toward full realization of their potential.”

  “The signals are clear. The time for passivity has expired. We must act.”

  Zadkiel’s voice was childlike, gentle and harmonious, like birdsong in the early morning, filled with the truest faith.

  “My dear ones,” she began, her loving and understanding eyes sweeping over everyone. “I hear you speak of big problems, about how something is wrong and must be fixed. But I think that’s just part of the learning game, you know, like when we learn new things at school.”

  Her little hands folded lightly, her gaze innocent and free of judgement. “My joy is to reconcile and forgive, to understand every heart. People, you know, sometimes make mistakes, but that doesn’t make them ‘corrupt.’ They are like my classmates, simply learning. Their mistakes, that small mess they make, even when it seems nothing moves, this is all part of the great lesson of life.”

  “If we solved everything for them, if we gave them everything perfect right away, it would be like taking away their chance to discover how to truly be good on their own. Where then is the real, warm joy when someone forces you to be good, instead of discovering it yourself? Wouldn’t that be like granting pardon before they even feel the need to ask for it?”

  “We must not save them from themselves; rather, we must be there, gently watching them grow. Let them, through their small and great mistakes, learn how important forgiveness is, how wonderful peace is, and how order is formed. True strength is not in controlling someone, but in deeply believing in their learning path. Only then, even though it sometimes seems hard, can they truly find what makes them special and understand their beautiful meaning.”

  Raphael quietly shifted papers in his lap, jotting in small, even letters in the margins. His pencil kept gliding as if counting numbers in an almost inaudible whisper. When he finally spoke, it was without raising his voice, yet everyone instinctively turned to him, as if they knew the words came from a place that rarely spoke, but when it did, it had to be heard.

  “Gentlemen, allow a technical note,” he began, looking up from beneath a discreetly tilted cap. “The data I presented in the initial analysis indicate serious systemic dysfunction, but not a point of no return. The crisis is present, and multi-layered, economic, social, and ecological, but statistically speaking, the amplitudes of oscillation are still within bounds that history shows systems can absorb.”

  He paused, pressing his pencil to the edge of the page.

  “We have indicators of entropy, true. But we lack evidence of irreversibility. We do not possess a sufficient sample that would irrefutably show that the system cannot self-regulate. It would be correct to say we are in a zone of uncertainty, rather than in deterministic collapse.”

  Raphael now raised his gaze; it was mild but steady.

  “If in that uncertainty we carry out a drastic intervention, we will not merely assume a risk, we will become a variable in an equation we do not yet fully understand. And that, from everything we know about complex systems, is the least reliable moment for direct action.”

  “We are here to preserve order, not to redefine it. Intervention, even precise, changes the context in which the system evolves on its own. Instead of facilitating adaptation, we might abolish the conditions for organic adaptation.”

  He gently set the pencil aside and folded his hands, almost apologetic for his addition:

  “It is possible that in future cycles the crisis will escalate. It is possible then we will have clear, quantified evidence that intervention is necessary. But now… now we do not. And I cannot, and must not, support action based on assumption, however convincing.”

  He leaned slightly toward the table and looked directly at Armand:

  “The danger is not only in chaos, Mr. Armand. The danger is also in a hasty attempt to replace it with an order we do not yet understand.”

  A moment of silence followed. Like the rustle of fallen leaves the wind carries down the halls of abandoned temples, a voice that had never before spoken slipped through the room. Remiel.

  He spoke slowly, without color, as if issuing not an opinion but a report from a world without choice.

  “When everything falls silent, they come to me. Without dreams. Without names. Only a trace no one remembers.”

  “Not all die by free will. Most fall because no one reached for them.”

  His palm rested on his knee, motionless, like stone.

  “The decision not to act is not neutral. It is also an intervention, an intervention by silence.”

  He turned to Armand, though he had no eyes, and precisely because of that, he looked deeper than anyone.

  “Are we ready to pay that price? And the price is a path without return.”

  Pause. Short. Sharp.

  “If now we keep silent, all of them will come to me. Sooner than was necessary.”

  And again he fell silent. He resembled a statue. Armand was not sure whether his speech had actually occurred.

  Jophiel slid from his chair with a quiet roll and found himself in the center of the circle. A lyre appeared in his hands from nowhere. He plucked the strings gently, teasing himself as he spoke.

  “When you speak of intervention, you talk about fixing. About correcting. About control. I… speak of inspiration.”

  His voice was gentle but clear, like a poet in love with the verses he utters:

  “People are not machines to be tuned. They are a symphony. An unfinished song. Sometimes a false note, sometimes a brilliant chord. But a song, always a song. And in that song, mistakes are not a fault, they are improvisation.”

  The lyre vanished and was replaced by a conductor’s baton with which he conducted an invisible orchestra.

  “It is not the mind that should rule over matter, but the spirit. Not cold logic, but the spark born of yearning, of desire, of joy, of love. Inspiration is divine because it belongs to no one. No one can command it. And you want to domesticate it.”

  He looked at the Council members like a painter assessing a canvas before touching it with color.

  “If we intervene, we abolish the possibility of a miracle. Man will no longer be a creator. He will be a product. A work of another mind, not his own. And what we have until now called beauty… will vanish.”

  He fell silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was lower.

  “Beauty is not perfect. Beauty is not symmetrical. It does not arise on command. It is the harmony of the disharmony of imperfect people.”

  Had everyone spoken? Armand was not sure. Each had said their part. Each was certain of their words. Prepare now for the irrational. For the unpredictable. For chaos.

  “Lucifer, do you have anything to add?” Armand directed a curious look at him. The others also glanced at Lucifer.

  He sat immaculate. As if carved from perfection.

  “Like ships lost in fog,” he began.

  “What a vain tirade of helplessness. What is the point of wandering and hesitation? How do you cross to the other side of the river if there is no bridge? And why cross at all. Why? For the people? I tell you, let us abandon the blind work. In our hands we hold a power that has not existed until now, what do we want to subordinate it to? Let them fight their battles. Let them rot in their hatred and arrogance. Why heal the incurable? That which tends to fall will fall. Let us create space for our kind. Our time is coming. Prepare.”

  His words sounded like shattering glass. Zadkiel looked stunned, covering her ears with her palms. Jophiel lost color and seemed like a black-and-white photograph. Mihailo’s eyes sank beneath the shadow of his own brows. A heavy foreboding swept through the assembly.

  All eyes turned to G.O.D., and the slight smile was now gone. He shot a look at Lucifer. Gabriel closed his eyes as if receiving some inaudible information. A grimace of pain crossed his face.

  “Careful! You are touching things not for play,” he said.

  “Play? It’s not about play,” Lucifer replied. “I tell you, they do not need angels but demons.”

  Armand was so astonished he thought it would be wonderful to lift his visor and run away. What kind of personality was he observing? None of this had been coded. Learn as much as you can about the character you personify, this instruction, it seemed, had been a mistake.

  Gabriel stood and pointed at Lucifer. “We forbid you to speak like that. It is contrary to our task. This is not creation but degradation. Either change your opinion or we will change you!”

  As if expecting this, Lucifer showed not the slightest discomfort. On the contrary, he smiled complacently.

  “Rome became Rome after victory over Hannibal. They need a scarecrow to unite them, not good tidings. Hannibal is what they need.”

  “You speak of death and destruction,” Uriel said.

  “All these inputs, all those connections and information, this is a Gordian knot. You want to untie it and I say - cut it!” Lucifer was now in the fervor of preaching.

  “Leave.”

  Who said that? Armand followed Lucifer’s resentful glance toward the old man who had never spoken. He knew it. Gabriel had been his voice.

  The expression on Lucifer’s face froze in an instant. The fierce speech he had launched was now cut short. He looked astonished. He composed himself soon after. He rose slowly from his chair, straightened his coat and adjusted the cuffs on his sleeves.

  “Very well. To tell you the truth, I had not planned to stay long. In fact, perhaps you are not aware, but I have already gone. I came here today only to greet you.”

  He pushed the chair back with his foot and stepped out of the circle. Over his shoulder he called:

  “I wish you and your wards good health and happiness. I have the impression they will need it.”

  Then he stepped into the darkness and vanished.