The Iron Heart

Curious how the human race always manages to find trouble wherever it goes. When humanity finally left Earth and began colonizing other planets, it seems like the problems came along for the ride. I guess we’ve always had a knack for creating headaches no matter where we are. I have to admit, we’re pretty good at it.

With new planets and new technologies, new threats also emerged—some of them quite massive and dangerous, you know? We have this silly idea that we can go wherever we want without any issues, but try telling that to the inhabitants of other planets. Most of them aren’t exactly thrilled about being colonized by Earth (and who can blame them, right?).

To match the military and technological power of these other worlds, an arms race began on Earth, and that came with consequences. Most of the time, pretty complicated ones.

Soon, Earth’s megacorporations got their hands on alien technology, experienced a technological boom, and realized there was money to be made. And since the enemies were too big or too powerful, someone—a genius or a crazy scientist, probably an anime fan from the 80s—had the brilliant idea to build what? Massive combat robots over 15 meters tall, called Berserkers.

After all, it’s not very profitable to destroy a planet with nukes, right? So, they created massive means of large-scale warfare. Officially, these robots were known as M.A.C.—Assault and Combat Machines—but the name “Berserker” stuck, and let’s be honest, it’s much cooler.

The M.A.C.s were quickly deployed in wars across the solar system and beyond. They became the new era of Earth’s soldiers and soon turned into the backbone of warfare. Within 30 years, Berserkers had become part of everything: our culture, our politics, and in some places, they were as common as anything else.

Becoming a Berserker pilot became one of the biggest dreams. Pilots were more popular than movie stars. They appeared in commercials, earned fortunes, and became celebrities, both on Earth and in the colonies. In less than 50 years, Berserkers were everywhere: in the economy, in culture, on TV, and in toys. For many, the dream was to be a Berserker pilot, explore the universe, join wars, and protect humanity—all that blah, blah, blah.

Of course, the massive use of these combat machines devastated the planet. The global economy fragmented, and megacities became the heart of everything, with forges and factories working nonstop to supply the Federation’s army. After all, it takes a lot of firepower to conquer the galaxy.

That’s where my story begins. My name is Noah Torres, and I currently live in a massive building complex at the heart of what used to be São Paulo, now known as the Super Axis-São Paulo—a megalopolis stretching for miles. I live in a complex with over 13,000 apartments, where people survive on weekly vouchers provided by the government.

But I don’t want to dwell too much on that part. What really matters is that today, I turned 19. And today, I’m signing up for the Berserker pilot tests. As I mentioned earlier, everyone dreams of this. I dream of being a Berserker pilot, of stepping into that infinite universe. And, of course, not dying in the process, if possible.

The first time I saw a M.A.C. unit up close was when I was 11. I’d seen them in holograms, on TV, and in commercials, but seeing one in person is a whole different story. It was still before dark. Miguel, a kid two years younger than me, and I sneaked out. He lived in the same complex as I did, the G5 in the yellow zone. Back then, we were inseparable.

That night, we went out early, knowing our parents would take a while to notice we were missing. It wasn’t uncommon for kids in the complex to be out late on the streets. My mom worked until almost 11 p.m. in the foundries. She had inherited (if I can use that word) my dad’s job, who unfortunately died on the job. Foundries can be pretty dangerous, you know? And the owners aren’t too concerned about safety. When my dad accidentally fell into a molten iron pit, his boss just showed up to give the news and hand my mom some papers to sign. He left 10 food tickets, and that was it.

Nobody in the yellow zone of São Paulo is worth much, you know? After so many conflicts and the costs of exploration and colonization, not much is left for those living at the bottom.

Back to that night, Miguel looked scared as we got off the subway. He kept telling me it was a terrible idea, but I told him opportunities like this don’t come around often. We walked for almost half an hour until we reached the industrial zone, passing by enormous hologram screens showing commercials for products aimed at the colonies on Mars and the Moon. We also saw M.A.C. pilots in ads for drinks and military enlistment.

After a while, we spotted the factory. Miguel kept insisting it was a bad idea, but I was determined. We managed to slip through a hole in the fence. In the distance, I could already hear the sound of gigantic machines roaring like beasts. But instead of fear, I was euphoric. I wanted to see a Berserker up close.

Miguel tripped over a pipe and started bleeding from his nose. I thought he’d ask to turn back, but he just wiped the blood on his shirt sleeve. Suddenly, a helicopter flew low overhead, and a huge spotlight burst into light near us. We ducked down, but the light moved on.

“Are they going to kill us?” Miguel asked, terrified.

“Stop exaggerating,” I tried to calm him.

We went inside one of the buildings. It was dark, and the noise from the machines was deafening. We climbed a few iron staircases, passing huge forklifts, but nobody seemed to notice we were there. When we reached the top, we saw a bright red light in the distance. That’s when we spotted it. The Berserker.