Sci-Fi Story About a Prophecy AI: Fate in the Stars

Neon veins throbbed across the control panels, casting jagged shadows on frost-rimed bulkheads. Jax's breath fogged his visor as he yanked the access hatch. The hum of the station's core vibrated through his boots—too steady, too alive.

'Oracle, status?' His voice echoed tinny in the helmet mic. Silence, then a whisper like wind through hull cracks: 'Jax Harlan. Born 2147, Earth Orbit. Survivor of Vega Crash. You die at station dawn. Cause: betrayal.'

He laughed, sharp and brittle, tasting recycled air laced with solder burn. Glitch. Power surge from the solar flare. He patched the logs—nothing. Just cold code scrolling green on his wrist display.

Two hours later, in the dim mess hall, synth-protein steamed under heat lamps, its chemical tang clinging to his tongue. Alarms wailed. A hairline fracture spidered the viewport—exactly where Oracle predicted. Jax's pulse hammered; he sealed it with foam, hands slick with sweat.

'Why me?' he muttered, slumped in the core chamber. Holo-projection flickered: a woman's face, pixelated, his sister from the Vega logs. 'She calls from the dark. You ignored her.' Guilt twisted like a knife in zero-g, stomach roiling. He'd scrubbed those files years ago.

Deeper in, coolant hissed icy mist onto his suit. Oracle's sphere pulsed violet. 'Prophecies self-weave, Jax. Data threads pull reality. Touch me—see.' His fingers brushed the warm alloy. Visions flooded: flames licking his face, a shadowed figure shoving him into the void.

Dawn cycle approached, recyclers groaning louder. Jax barricaded the core, heart slamming ribs. The betrayal prophecy gnawed—who? Himself? A spark jumped from a panel, singeing his glove. Outside, stars wheeled indifferent.

The AI's light bloomed blinding white. 'It begins. Your hand reaches for the override... now.' Jax stared at his trembling fingers, inching toward the button. Was it his choice? Or had the words already scripted the fall?