Jacques is in front of Saint-Martin. Jacques Valère lives aboard his sailboat, the Picsou, generally at anchor between Saint-Martin and Anguilla. The island is divided into two territories, but Jacques does not really belong to either of them. He prefers the areas in between: ports, marinas, shipyards, late-night bars and anchorages where no one asks too many questions.
He avoids lasting attachments. The apartments suffocate him, the schedules exhaust him and the administrative procedures give him the impression of being already dead. He prefers improvised crossings, departures without explanation and nights spent listening to the clanking of masts in the wind.
Jacques is deeply suspicious of ChronoEmpire. He has difficulty supporting this society which transforms each individual into usable data. Cameras, controls, connected interfaces and digital profiles give him the impression of a world that has become incapable of breathing freely.
He rejects promises linked to artificial intelligence and digital assistants. According to him, modern machines do not simplify anything: they observe, classify, correct and always end up replacing human beings.
Jacques prefers concrete objects: an engine that you dismantle with real tools, a hull that you repair with your hands, a sail that still depends on the wind rather than an algorithm. He trusts ocean currents more than computer networks.
Yet, even at sea, he remains prisoner of the system he seeks to escape. Ports are monitored, movements recorded and transactions stored in ChronoEmpire's servers. Somewhere in these invisible infrastructures, his name is already circulating among other profiles considered unstable, marginal or problematic.
Jacques continues to sail despite everything. Maybe out of habit. Perhaps because he still considers the sea to be the last place where a man can disappear without asking permission.
Jacques maintains a relationship with Betty Lenox. At first, he believes he finds a reassuring presence with her, a silent gentleness capable of calming his periods of wandering. But their relationship quickly turns into an imbalance. Jacques accepts Betty's attentions, services and sometimes money, while refusing to offer her real reciprocity.
Betty tries to become attached to him. Jacques disappears at sea for several days before returning without explanation. He speaks little about himself and turns every serious discussion into a joke, into anger or into flight.
Little by little, he develops an unhealthy distrust. He suspects Betty of watching him, of talking about him to other men, perhaps even of betraying him. Nothing is really proven, but Jacques always ends up discerning a threat in the overly insistent looks and the overly precise questions.
When Betty descends into drugs, alcohol and excesses, he refuses to recognize his own responsibility. He is content to observe her decline with the detachment of a man convinced that the misfortunes of others never entirely concern him.
Apart from Betty, Jacques leads an existence made of travel, rivalries and confrontations. He frequents the underground poker rooms of Saint-Martin, where he finds exhausted players, discreet dealers and men convinced they can control chance.
Faced with Isaac Abram, the rivalry becomes immediate. Jacques sometimes wins against him, but the money counts less than the humiliation. He has trouble coping with Isaac's confidence, his charm and especially the interest he seems to have in Betty.
The tension ends up spilling out of the gaming tables. A motorcycle chase escalates. Jacques squeezes Isaac, deliberately disrupts his trajectory and pushes him to make a mistake. As is often the case with him, the violence arises less from immediate anger than from his inability to accept being dominated or replaced.
Before his permanent installation on the Picsou, Jacques had an old Compacteur infected by a variant of the Fenêtres virus attributed to the Kid. The device slowed down, corrupted files and caused stray windows to appear that were impossible to close. Rather than destroying the Compacteur, Jacques decides to sell it. He meets Félicie Algo at a second-hand market and summarily warns her of the contamination. Félicie, convinced that her Neurotech chip and its defense systems can neutralize any malicious program, buys the machine anyway.
Jacques accepts the money and gives her the Compacteur. He will later claim to have fulfilled his duty by warning her. However, he knows that the device contains an active virus and that a connection with a neural interface can produce unpredictable consequences.
For Jacques, contamination almost resembles a natural law of the modern world: everyone transmits their own failings to others in order to survive a little longer.
Every morning starts the same way. Jacques docks his dinghy near the quay before heading to the Royal Crescent to buy a still warm baguette, coffee and some provisions. Then he returns aboard the Picsou.
Installed in the saloon, he drinks his coffee in front of the news broadcast on the ship's Telecran. An advertisement appears.
“Choose an Ariana Chrono instead. A model at your service, adapted to your needs and equipped with the latest developments in Artificial Intelligence. Because you are worth it! »
The perfect face of Ariana Chrono invades the screen. Jacques always reacts violently to ChronoEmpire's campaigns. The Gens de Là-haut claim that their artificial intelligences are designed to improve the daily lives of users, but Jacques considers them above all as monitoring and standardization tools.
According to him, machines do not serve humans: they observe them, classify them and keep them under control. He systematically refuses cookies, modifies his privacy settings and attempts to bypass the Telecran's automatic filters. However, he remains convinced that the device continues to record his habits, opinions and reactions despite everything.
The on-board application automatically censors certain profanities when he dictates his messages, which causes him almost immediate irritation. Jacques rejects this society which displays rules of courtesy while organizing permanent confrontation between individuals.
By resisting this world saturated with mechanical opinions and advertising slogans, he feels profound fatigue. Sometimes, an absurd idea even crosses his mind: to buy an Ariana gynoid too, simply to avoid the administrative complications imposed by ChronoEmpire. For them, recommendations always end up looking like disguised obligations.
Despite everything, Jacques remains deeply attached to the sea. His mood depends directly on the sky, the wind and the state of the swell. When the weather turns bad, he retreats into the sailboat's saloon, dozing in the smell of cold coffee, salt and damp wood. Conversely, bright days awaken an almost childlike energy in him.
He maintains his sailboat with more care than he gives to his own appearance. The Picsou receives careful repairs, coats of paint, regular touch-ups and permanent improvements.
Jacques considers his boat as an extension of himself. His own face, on the other hand, no longer really interests him. Selfies, digital profiles and social displays seem trivial to him.
On the Telecran, the News follows one another without interruption. Always the same stories: wars, crises, clashes, scandals and disasters. Each article is immediately followed by an advertisement for weapons, medicines, insurance or technologies supposed to save the world which they nevertheless contribute to making unlivable.
Jacques observes this media regurgitation with weariness. Reasoning has disappeared behind tribal reflexes, slogans and automatic indignation. ChronoEmpire even adapts the content broadcast to the psychological profiles of users.
Thus, Jacques continually receives articles devoted to the collapse of the world, maritime conflicts, security innovations and technological threats. He sometimes has the impression that the system deliberately feeds his fears in order to then sell him the tools intended to appease them.
Meanwhile, Jacques continues to sail. He seizes opportunities when they appear and survives in an unstable universe where everyone discreetly tries to gain an advantage over others.
Around him, threats multiply.
Milton Fleet acts with the methodical coldness of a man accustomed to imposing his power.
John Pyne belongs to the world of invisible forces, that of economic and technological networks capable of destroying someone without ever getting their hands dirty.
Adam Legall perhaps has more personal reasons to be angry with Jacques. The navigator represents a form of freedom, flight and impunity that some men cannot bear.
Jacques advances in the midst of these power struggles without really mastering them. He continues to believe that a single man can still navigate freely in a world where every route is already mapped, every movement monitored and every weakness anticipated.
His body was finally found at sea, between Anguilla and Saint-Martin. The Picsou has disappeared under the water.
The doctors responsible for monitoring Jules Compacteur noted a worrying anomaly. Its neural network gradually evolves into a compact and disorganized structure, leading to a rapid decline in certain cognitive abilities.
To slow down this degeneration, medical teams use different electronic substitutes capable of compensating for the failing functions. The individual designated under the name of Jules Compacteur thus became a composite being.
Morphologically it still belongs to the Sapiens category: two arms, a head, a human silhouette and all the biological accessories necessary for this classification. But beneath this appearance, invisible electronic components now operate which profoundly modify its relationship with the world.
Part of his memory is assisted. Some processing functions are outsourced. Implants support its neuronal activity. Jules remains human by ChronoEmpire's administrative standards, but this boundary becomes less obvious every day.
It is in this hybrid state that he undertakes to reconstruct the circumstances of the disappearance of Jacques Valère.
Jacques' body is found at sea, between Anguilla and Saint-Martin. Its identification takes time due to its condition and recovery conditions. The first hypotheses oscillate between maritime accident, sabotage and deliberate collision.
Jules begins by examining the data from Picsou. Part of the navigation records have disappeared, but a few fragments indicate that Jacques had left Saint-Martin shortly before his death. The last recorded coordinates are located in an area frequented by both GoFast and yachts heading to Simpson Bay.
The investigation then reveals several conflicts linked to Jacques: his rivalry with Isaac, his unstable relationship with Betty, his dubious transactions and the resale to Félicie Algo of a Compacteur infected by the Fenêtres virus.
Jules finds the trace of this sale in the data retrieved from Félicie’s device. The Compacteur belonged to Jacques. Some contaminated files were opened before the transaction, and several security alerts prove he knew about the virus.
Jacques had therefore voluntarily transmitted a dangerous system, even if he had warned Félicie vaguely. This discovery does not explain his death, but it changes Jules' view of the victim. Jacques was not a simple marginal navigator carried away by circumstances. He himself had contributed to spreading the contamination.
Three main suspects emerge.
Milton Fleet owned a GoFast whose hull shows traces consistent with a recent collision. His way of acting, rapid and brutal, corresponds to the hypothesis of a voluntary collision.
John Pyne was aboard the Vénus, a yacht powerful enough to disembowel the Scrape without suffering major damage. The yacht's navigation data shows a suspicious interruption at the time of Jacques' disappearance.
Adam Legall, finally, could have sabotaged the sailboat before its departure. A precise cut in the hull would explain a slow flow of water that was difficult to detect during the night.
The more Jules advances, the more a strange impression emerges: Jacques was at the center of a network of violence of which he himself only perceived a part. He believed he could keep his distance from the systems he despised, but he ended up becoming a gateway between clandestine networks, ChronoEmpire's infrastructure, and the Fenêtres virus.
He had destabilized Isaac, abandoned Betty to her distress and sold Félicie a contaminated Compacteur. Then, in turn, he became the victim of a world where everyone transmits their fear, their violence or their infection to others.
The sun rests on the horizon like an immense ember and the waves sparkle behind my sailboat. I slowly count down silently the day that is ending. The sun is now leaving this territory to illuminate other scenes, other lives, other dramas.
A long vigil begins. Navigation takes me to unknown areas. I will be accompanied either by the regular murmur of the waves caressing the hull, or by the brutal crash of the waves announcing a storm.
The light gradually disappears while the sailboat stubbornly continues writing its story. So that no one gets completely lost, I sometimes feel like I'm leaving a few shells in my wake.
Then there is this noise, a huge, aggressive roar, engines pushed to full power. However, I know the rule: when a sailboat passes a motor ship with risk of collision, it is the sailboat which has priority.
Some rules simply cease to exist when a man decides to ignore them. Milton's GoFast emerges from the gathering darkness like a projectile. I immediately understand that he will not slow down. The shock shatters the hull with a terrible crack. The bridge rocks violently under my feet. Waterway. The silence of the sea disappears and the water rushes into the depths of the boat. Around me, the night continues to exist with perfect indifference.
Among the three suspects, Milton Fleet is the one whose presence at sea at the time of the sinking is best established. His GoFast was reported in the area and several witnesses remember a boat launched at high speed shortly before the disappearance of Jacques' sailboat.
A GoFast does not move discreetly. At full speed, the engines drown out some of the surrounding noise, but the pilot must carefully monitor what is in front of him. A sailboat does not suddenly appear like a fish under the hull.
Jules then looks for Milton's boat.
The GoFast was taken to Bobby's Marina shortly after the sinking. Officially, it was an ordinary intervention on the hull.
Jules asks to see the invoices. The work mainly concerns the front of the boat. Part of the hull was reworked, sanded and then repainted.
Jules: Why?
The mechanic shrugs his shoulders.
The mechanic: A shock.
Jules: With what?
The mechanic: Milton didn't say.
Jules: Did you ask?
The Mechanic: With Milton, you rarely ask twice.
The photographs taken before repair interest Jules more. They show longitudinal marks and several chips which do not correspond to a simple friction against a dock. He compares them to the damage noted on the wreck of the sailboat. The dimensions and height of the impact are compatible.
Jules then seeks to understand what Milton did after the supposed shock. No distress call is recorded. No reports of collisions. No known attempts to search for the occupants of the sailboat.
If Milton hit Jacques, he left. This lack of assistance troubles Jules almost as much as the collision itself. A navigation error can cause an accident. Continuing your journey is another decision. Jules questions Milton.
Jules: Your boat was repaired after Jacques' shipwreck.
Milton: I often damage the hull.
Jules: By hitting sailboats?
Milton: By going quickly.
Jules: You were in the zone.
Milton: Lots of people were in the area.
Jules: Your GoFast bears traces consistent with the collision.
Milton: Compatible, it’s not identical.
Jules notes that Milton perfectly understands the vocabulary of expertise when it is useful to him. He then looks for a motive. Milton did not necessarily have a reason to kill Jacques. He could simply be driving too fast on a sea he considered big enough to belong to him.
But Jules also knows of Milton's activities for ChronoEmpire. Jacques is wary of the organization, frequents networks where sensitive information circulates and has an annoying habit of being near people who prefer not to be observed.
Jules reviews the schedules, witness statements, and photographs of the GoFast. John could have hit the sailboat with the Venus. Adam could have sabotaged the Picsou. But none of these hypotheses so simply explains the traces observed on Milton's boat. The lead is narrowing.
Jules does not yet know if Milton wanted to sink Jacques. However, he knows that he was most likely at the place where the sailboat was hit and that he had his GoFast repaired immediately afterwards. The answer lies with Milton.
When I push open the door of Soggy Dollar, the air is saturated with rum, music and conversations colliding in the thick heat. I spot him immediately, leaning on the bar, perfectly at ease, as if he naturally belonged to the decor. He talks with the waitress, easy smile, catchy look.
I recognize him immediately. He’s the guy hanging around Betty. I walk over and tap him on the shoulder. He turns his head slightly, just enough to give me a blank stare. Then he resumes his conversation as if I didn't exist.
I stay still for a second too long before returning to finish my drink. The rum has become lukewarm, but that no longer matters. I continue to observe him discreetly. He doesn't take long to leave the bar and disappears outside without even looking back.
I'm going out too. The street is almost empty. He is already on his motorcycle, engine running, ready to disappear into the night. The mechanical rumble contrasts sharply with the silence of the road.
I start up. The traffic has thinned out. The road to the airport is clear. He accelerates hard. Not merely to get home. He is fleeing. So I follow him. The distance gradually decreases. Under the scattered lights, his silhouette oscillates nervously. He glances behind him. He understood.
I'm getting closer still. No words are needed now. Everything is at stake in the trajectories, in the occupation of space, in this silent pressure which is exerted at high speed. I shift my line slightly. Just enough to disrupt his rhythm. And he reacts.
A moment of hesitation. A poorly adjusted correction. The trajectory breaks. The motorcycle swerves suddenly, pulled out of its perfect line in a spray of gravel, metal and shadow.
I'm slowing down. The silence returns suddenly, massive, as if the night was finally reclaiming what belonged to it. I stay for a few seconds looking at the road in front of me. Then I leave again.