Page 27

Myall

The cool air of the building’s lobby does little to clear the fog in my brain. My steps feel leaden, like I’m moving through a thick fog, and a dull ache presses behind my eyes.

The contents of the data chip—the vulnerabilities in the systems—are etched into my thoughts, the implications both thrilling and terrifying.

Arden’s discovery held more than we could have imagined—detailed schematics of the NeuroMods inner workings and, even more crucially, vulnerabilities in the Sentinel system.

Marcus had pored over the information, his dark eyes glinting with excitement and apprehension. “This could change everything,” he’d said, hands waving in the air the way they do when he’s passionate about something. “If we can exploit these weaknesses—”

The shrill blare of the buildings alarm shatters my thoughts like glass.

My heart stutters. The alarm’s sound claws at my nerves, setting my pulse hammering in my ears, and I can’t suppress the tightness in my chest as my body braces for whatever comes next.

The AI system’s voice crackles through the intercom, monotone and dispassionate.

“Attention all employees. Mandatory meeting in the main auditorium. Attendance is required.” The words fall like a weight on the room, chilling the air as they reverberate through the sterile corridors.

This can’t be good.

A knot of anxiety twists in my stomach as I move to join the stream of workers filing toward the auditorium.

The buzz of whispered conversations mingles with the sound of footsteps, a low murmur of apprehension filling the hall.

The air is heavy, thick with anticipation, as if every person is holding their breath.

I scan the crowd for Ziva, my chest tightening when I can’t find her.

The sea of faces presses in on me, each expression a mask, each pair of eyes calculating and guarded.

“What’s going on?” I overhear someone whisper.

“No idea,” comes the hushed reply. “But it can’t be good.”

As we file into the cavernous room, my mind races. Could they know about our meeting last night? About Arden? The rebellion? I take slow, measured breaths, fighting to keep my face neutral. The last thing I need is to draw attention to myself.

I finally catch a glimpse of Ziva a few people away. Our eyes lock for a moment, and I can see my own worry mirrored in her gaze. Moving towards her, I carefully navigate through the throng of people in the room.

A hush falls over the crowd like a wave crashing against a shore. The doors to the stage swing open, and a tall, imposing figure strides in, his boots clicking sharply against the floor, echoing through the room. My breath catches in my throat as I recognize him.

Regent Colvin.

Dressed in a sharply tailored dark suit that accentuates his lean frame, he commands attention with an air of authority.

His eyes sweep over the assembled workers, and I swear I feel the temperature in the room drop.

Several strands of silver thread his dark hair, hinting at his age, but it’s his expression—hard and unyielding—that truly sends a shiver down my spine.

A coldness seeps into my bones, and I can’t shake the prickling sensation along my skin.

The public figurehead of the Harmonization Authority, here in New Eden… this can’t end well.

When he speaks, his voice is calm, measured, but there’s an undercurrent of steel.

“Citizens of New Eden,” Colvin’s voice booms through the auditorium, clear and resonant. His words slice through the room like a cold wind, and I feel the hairs on my arms rise. “I come to you today with grave news. The security of our society has been compromised.”

The tension in the air thickens, wrapping around my chest like a vice. Cold sweat prickles along my spine as his gaze sweeps over us, sharp as a blade. The unease in the room swells, barely contained. My heart pounds, but I force myself to breathe evenly, fighting to conceal my fear.

“The blueprints for the NeuroMod and Sentinel systems have recently been stolen, and though it’s taken us some time, we’ve managed to isolate the breach to this facility.” Colvin announces. “This rebellion threatens the very foundation of our society.”

Panic ripples through the crowd, quickly dampened by their NeuroMods. Out of the corner of my eye, I glance at Ziva. Her face is a mask of calm, but I know her well enough to see the fear in her eyes.

Colvin’s gaze seems to bore into each of us as he speaks. “Rest assured, we will find those responsible. The peace and stability of our society depends on it.”

I inch closer to Ziva, desperate to offer some sort of comfort. As my hand brushes against hers, her fingers intertwine with mine, squeezing tight. It’s a bold move, but in this moment, I don’t care. I need to touch her and know that she is alright.

“Remember,” Colvin’s voice cuts through my thoughts, “emotional stability is the cornerstone of our society. Any deviation, any hint of unrest, will be swiftly dealt with.”

Swallowing hard, I fight to keep my expression neutral. Colvin’s cold blue eyes sweep across the room, his gaze like a searchlight seeking out any flicker of dissent.

“To ensure the safety and loyalty of our workforce, we’re implementing new security protocols,” he announces, his voice as sharp as a blade.

My heart pounds against my ribs as he outlines the measures.

“Cameras with advanced facial recognition software will be installed throughout the facility. Random NeuroMod checks will increase in frequency.” Each word is like a nail in a coffin. My stomach lurches, and my palms begin to sweat. And then, the worst part.

“In the coming weeks, each citizen will have their NeuroMod upgraded to monitor vital signs.” The thought of the newer, more invasive NeuroMods sends a jolt of dread through me, a constant reminder that we are never truly alone, never truly free.

Shit, this isn’t good.

Ziva’s hand tenses in mine. We lock eyes for a split second, and in her gaze, I see the storm she’s fighting to control.

Beneath the calm facade, fear churns—fear of being exposed, of losing everything.

The weight of the situation presses down on me, the thought of our deactivated NeuroMods—our rebellion—hanging by a thread in the face of Colvin’s new regime.

His voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. “Furthermore, I’ll be conducting individual interviews with each of you over the coming days. Consider this your opportunity to demonstrate your unwavering loyalty to The Harmonization Authority.”

The air in the room feels thick, suffocating. I struggle to keep my breathing even, knowing that any sign of distress could be detected and analyzed. Beside me, Ziva’s jaw is clenched tight, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

“You’re dismissed,” Colvin finally says, his tone leaving no room for questions or discussion.

As we file out of the auditorium, an oppressive weight settles on my shoulders, a tangible sense of unseen eyes following our every move.

Each step toward my workstation feels like crossing a minefield, the frantic whispers buzzing around me matching the rapid thumping of my heart.

I can feel the prying gazes of colleagues, each one a potential informant, ready to report any flicker of dissent.

Ziva and I separate, moving to our respective workstations with practiced nonchalance. My mind churns for any way out, any solution that might get us the fuck out of this situation.

I power up my terminal, the familiar hum vibrating through the desk—a sound that usually grounds me but now feels eerily out of place amidst the chaos swirling in my head.

The soft glow of the screen illuminates my face, but it does little to dispel the shadows of anxiety clinging to my thoughts.

The rhythmic tapping of keyboards and muted conversations blur into a dull roar, mocking the normalcy that feels like a cruel joke.

How can we outsmart these new measures? Maybe we could find a way to loop the feeds, or create a program to generate false data for the new NeuroMods. But with Colvin breathing down our necks, even thinking about such things feels dangerous.

I catch Ziva’s eye across the aisle and give a subtle nod toward the maintenance closet. She blinks twice in acknowledgment—our silent code. I casually make my way there, palms sweating against the cold metal of the doorknob.

In the dim space, I wait, counting each second. When the door creaks open, Ziva slips in, and her presence comforts me instantly.

“This is insane,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Colvin’s going to tear this place apart.”

I pull her close, savoring her warmth. “We’ll figure it out,” I murmur. “It’ll be okay.”

Ziva pulls back, her voice wavering. “But at what cost, Myall?” Her voice trembles, laced with an urgency that cuts through the dim light. “What if they catch us? What if—” Her words hang heavy in the air.

I can see the fear flickering in her hazel eyes, and it mirrors my own—a reflection of the stakes we’ve put in play, the risks we can’t ignore.

“Shh,” I interrupt, cupping her face. “We knew the risks. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She lets out a shaky breath. “You know it’s not just me I’m worried about.”

We stand in silence, the weight of this harsh reality pressing down on both of us.

“We have to be more careful,” I say finally. “No more stealing NeuroMods, no recruiting, no unnecessary risks. We play it safe until Colvin leaves.”

Ziva nods, determination replacing fear in her eyes. “Yeah. But we can’t stop completely. The people need us to free them from this hell.”

A sharp knock on the door makes us both jump. “Hansen, Emerson. My office. Now.”

My blood turns to ice at the sound of Colvin’s voice cutting through the air, each syllable a cold knife.

The door creaks open, and he stands there like a specter, his presence sucking the warmth from the closet.

It’s as if time has stopped, the world narrowing down to this moment, where every heartbeat feels like a countdown to disaster.

As we step out, Colvin’s piercing gaze pins us in place. “Fraternizing during work hours?” His tone is deceptively light. “How quaint.”

I force my face into a neutral expression. “Routine maintenance check on the supplies, sir. Standard procedure.”

Colvin’s lip curls. “Indeed. Well, let’s continue this discussion somewhere more… appropriate.”

I can feel the trap closing in around us as we follow him down the hallway.

Steeling myself, we enter Colvin’s makeshift office—a stark space devoid of any personal touches.

The Regent settles behind his desk, cold blue eyes scanning us like a predator sizing up its prey.

I stand rigid, hands clasped behind my back, shoulders tight.

“Hansen,” he begins, his voice cutting through the tense silence. “Something’s been off with your work lately. Care to elaborate?”

My mind races, carefully weighing each word before I speak. “I apologize if my work has been subpar, sir. I’ve been pushing myself to improve our systems, sometimes at the expense of routine tasks.”

Colvin’s eyebrow arches. “Improve? How so?”

“I’ve been analyzing patterns in emotional fluctuations,” I lie smoothly, drawing on my knowledge of the system. “I believe we could refine the NeuroMods sensitivity to catch potential deviations earlier.”

A flicker of interest crosses Colvin’s face. “Fascinating. And what prompted this… initiative?”

Ziva tenses beside me, but I keep my voice steady. “Efficiency, sir. The more precise our control, the more stable our society.”

Colvin leans forward, his gaze boring into me. “And you believe our current methods are… lacking?”

It’s a trap, carefully laid. I take a measured breath. “Not lacking, sir. But there’s always room for improvement, isn’t there? Isn’t that the core of The Harmonization Authority’s mission?”

For a moment, silence hangs heavy in the air. Then Colvin’s lips curl into what might be a smile on anyone else. “Indeed, Hansen. Your dedication is… commendable.”

The knot in my stomach unwinds, relief flooding through me, but I don’t let it show. Colvin turns his attention to Ziva, and I pray she can navigate this minefield as well as I did.

“Emerson,” Colvin’s voice is like ice as he addresses her, “your technical skills are impressive, but lately, there have been reports of unauthorized access to sensitive data. Care to explain?”

Ziva meets his gaze head-on, her hazel eyes unflinching. “I’ve been troubleshooting some anomalies with the NeuroMods, sir. It’s part of my effort to ensure our technology operates at peak efficiency.”

Colvin leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of him, his expression one of calculated amusement. I can feel Ziva’s tension beside me, her fingers trembling slightly, and I wonder how long we can maintain this facade under such piercing observation.

“Efficiency seems to be a common theme today. And what do you hope to achieve by your…unauthorized troubleshooting?”

Ziva’s jaw sets with determination. “I aim to prevent any potential malfunctions that could jeopardize the stability of the NeuroMod readings, sir. It’s crucial for maintaining emotional harmony among the citizens.”

A tense silence follows her response, and I can practically hear the gears turning in Colvin’s mind.

Finally, he nods slowly. “Your commitment to our cause is…admirable, Emerson. Keep me updated on your progress.”

Ziva and I exchange a glance, relief flooding through us, though we try to hide it. Colvin’s intense scrutiny feels like a physical weight, but for now, we’ve managed to navigate his suspicions.

“Dismissed,” he finally says, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture.

As we step out of his office and into the corridor, Ziva exhales a shaky breath, her body still rigid with the aftershocks of the encounter.

“Holy fuck, that was close,” she whispers, her voice a little breathless. I nod, my chest still tight, as if the air around me has only just started to breathe again.

I grasp her hand tightly, the rush of surviving that encounter still thrumming through my veins. “We need to be even more careful from now on,” I say, my voice low with urgency.

Ziva nods. “Agreed. We can’t afford any slip-ups.”

As we head down the corridor from Colvin’s office and back to our workstations, I know that the real battle is only just beginning.