Page 35

Arden straightens, biting her lower lip in concentration. “We expected this. It’s not a problem.”

‘Not a problem’ means it’s a huge fucking problem. Every second we spend here increases the risk. My decryptor needs additional time to bypass the next level of encryption, time that we don’t have.

“We can pull the plug and try again later,” I say. “It’s not worth getting caught, we need to abandon this place and get to the fallback location.”

Arden stops typing and looks at me, her green eyes piercing. “Ziva, if we don’t do this now, there might not be a later.”

I know she’s right. The crackdowns are escalating, and rumors of a new NeuroMod threaten our rebellion.

“Fine,” I say. “But let me—” Before I can finish, an alarm blares from outside. Myall bursts into action, eyes wide. “Enforcers!”

“Fuck,” Arden says, yanking the dataport from the terminal. “We weren’t supposed to—”

“No time,” Myall interrupts. “Get outside, now!”

We scramble for the exit. “Ziva,” Myall says, grabbing my arm as we run. “We can still—”

He doesn’t get to finish. We reach the corridor and start running, my mind racing with the implications of what we’ve just done.

At the door leading to the outside of the building, Marcus holds up a hand and we stop. He cracks the door open a sliver and peers out into the alleyway. “Clear,” he says, and we spill into the street, trying to look casual.

The city hums with its usual, disjointed rhythm, the distant noises amplifying as we weave through the streets. Every sound feels amplified, every step echoing in the back of my mind like a countdown to discovery.

“This way,” Arden whispers, pulling me toward a narrow passage between two buildings. We duck and weave through the maze of alleys, the sounds of the city growing louder and more chaotic.

We slip onto a main street, merging with the small crowd that’s slowly gathering, curious about the commotion. I glance back to see Myall and Marcus trailing a few paces behind, their heads close together, voices sharp and low.

“Split up,” Myall calls. “We’ll meet at the fallback like we agreed.”

Arden looks at me, waiting for a signal. For a moment, I hesitate—caught between the comfort of staying together and risk of separating.

“Go,” I say. “I’ll catch up.”

She squeezes my hand, then melts into the crowd. I watch her go, then turn to Myall. His stare is so intense, it’s almost as if he’s saying goodbye. But before I can process his expression, he quickly turns and dashes across the street, leaving me behind and alone.

I inhale sharply, forcing my feet to move, my pulse thundering so fiercely it drowns out the world around me.

* * *

I reach the fallback—an old warehouse in the industrial district, exactly where we planned. The trip through the city had my heart hammering in my throat the entire time. Myall and Marcus are already here, speaking in low tones. They stop when they see me.

“Where’s Arden?” Myall asks as he grabs me and pulls me into him, tightening his arms around me.

“She’s coming,” I say, but even I can’t convince myself it’s certain. I exhale, breathing in the scent of him as my heart rate begins to slow. His grasp loosens and I step back, catching Marcus’ curious gaze.

We wait in tense silence. I check my watch, then glance toward the door. After what feels like a lifetime, the door creaks open, and Arden slips inside. She looks tired, but her eyes are bright.

“All in one piece,” she says, holding up the dataport.

Relief washes over me, but it’s tempered by the knowledge of what comes next.

“Let’s see it,” Marcus says, and Arden hands him the dataport she carried as we fled. Hopefully the decryptor has finished by now.

Marcus works the dataport, each finger stroke like a scalpel cutting through layers of digital flesh. We crowd close, the dim glow of the screen casting anxious shadows on the cramped warehouse office.

Myall’s hand brushes mine, and I flinch, the jolt of contact sharp, electric. He pulls away, his face flushed.

“Here,” Marcus says, his voice a low whisper, almost reverent as he angles the dataport so we can all see.

A series of documents flicker to life on the screen, their titles a jumble of acronyms and technical jargon. One catches my eye: “NeuroMod Emotional Regulation: Initial Theories and Applications.”

Arden leans in, her breath quickening. “This is it. This is the fucking motherlode.”

We take turns reading, our eyes skimming over dense text, struggling to make sense of the jargon.

The weight of it hits me in waves—this isn’t just theory; it’s a blueprint for control.

The NeuroMods didn’t begin as tools of control.

They were meant to help—designed to balance emotions, make people more resilient, better equipped to handle life’s challenges.

They began as a mental health resource.

“Look at this,” Myall says, pointing to a section near the bottom of one document. “Authored by Dr. Elena Vance. These are her notes.”

A silence falls over us, heavy and pregnant with implications. Dr. Vance isn’t just a faceless bureaucrat—she’s a true believer—someone who thought she was making the world better. The realization twists something inside me, a knot of understanding and anger.

“She wasn’t always a villain,” Marcus mutters. “She really thought she was helping.”

“Doesn’t change what The Authority’s done,” Arden adds, a cold edge to her voice.

Myall’s face is lit by the screen’s glow, eyes narrowed with focus. For a moment, I wonder if he’s thinking the same thing I am—or if he’s as unreadable as I feel right now.

If Elena Vance could change, could we? Could we become the very thing we’re fighting against? The very force we despise?

“There’s more,” Marcus says, not taking his gaze off the data port and pulling up another file. It’s an old video, grainy and washed out, like something from a forgotten past.

A younger Dr. Vance appears on screen, her blonde hair and blue eyes unmistakable even through the pixelated haze. She speaks with passion, explaining the potential of the NeuroMod technology, how it could revolutionize mental health.

We watch in silence, the dimly lit room growing colder with each word she speaks. This isn’t just propaganda—it’s a heartfelt plea. She truly believes in what she’s saying.

The video ends, and no one moves. I can almost hear the thoughts ricocheting off the walls, the calculus of our rebellion being reworked in real time.

“This is a game-changer,” Marcus says, breaking the spell. “If people knew the truth, if they saw that the NeuroMods were meant to help… It could turn public opinion. It could make them question The Authority.”

“Or it could make them more afraid,” I say. “Sometimes the truth is more dangerous than a lie.”

Arden scoffs. “We didn’t come this far to protect people from the truth, Ziva. We’re trying to set them free.”

I know she’s right, but that doesn’t make it any easier. The truth is a blade, and we’re about to hand it to a populace that’s already bleeding.

“So what do we do?” Myall asks, looking to me. I see the conflict in his eyes, the same war that’s raging in my chest. He wants this to be simple, but he knows it never is.

I hesitate, trying to steady myself on the tightrope of our ideals. “We release it. Carefully. Anonymously. We let the people decide what to do with it.”

“We can’t just sit on this,” Arden says, her green eyes blazing with urgency. “People need to know the truth. This could change everything.”

Marcus rubs his chin, deep in thought. “If we release it too soon, without a plan, it could backfire. The regime will crack down even harder. We need to be strategic.”

“Strategic?” Arden scoffs. “We don’t have time for a ten-year plan, Marcus. This is a fucking ticking bomb.”

I glance at Myall, hoping for some middle ground. He’s always the one who can see both sides, who can calm the storm. He shrugs, his hair falling into his eyes. “Arden’s right that we need to act quickly. But Marcus also has a point. We can’t just throw this out there and hope for the best.”

“So what then?” Arden demands. “We sit and wait for the perfect moment that never comes?”

I feel the weight of their expectations. “We prepare. We build a network. We make sure that when we do release it, people are ready to act. We can’t afford to be reckless.”

Arden opens her mouth to argue, then closes it, her shoulders slumping. “Fine. But we move as fast as we can.”

“Agreed,” Marcus says, and I see a flicker of respect in his eyes. “I’ll make copies. We can distribute them through the old resistance channels.”

“We’ll need to be careful,” Myall adds, passing me back the dataport. “The regime’s surveillance is tighter than ever.”

I take the dataport from Myall, my gaze instantly drawn to the dozens of files on the screen. One catches my eye: “Project Equilibrium.”

“That’s the new NeuroMod,” I say, pointing. “The one they’re planning to roll out.”

Everyone quickly stops their debate, and I click on the file and a schematic opens, along with a block of text. When the final document opens, I can barely process the words on the screen.

“It’s not just a NeuroMod,” Arden whispers, her voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and horror. She leans over my shoulder, her breath warm on my neck as she points to the screen. “It’s a control device. They’re going to implant them.”

The words hit me like a physical blow, and my stomach churns. A wave of nausea rises, and the blood drains from my face. This isn’t just about surveillance anymore. This is something worse, something irreversible. The Authority isn’t just watching us—they’re planning to own us.

“We have to stop them,” I say, and this time there’s no doubt in my voice. No conflict. Just the stark, terrifying clarity of knowing what must be done.

“How?” Marcus asks. “We can’t just waltz into The Harmonization Center in Elysium and shut it down.”

All eyes turn to Myall. He’s the strategist, the leader. He’ll have a plan.

“We leak all the documents we found,” he says. “Let the public see what’s coming. Create an outcry.”

“You think they’ll care about some data leak?” Arden scoffs. “People are too dosed up to utter a complaint, let alone riot in the streets. We need more than that.”

She’s right, of course. The Authority has crushed dissent for so long that most people can’t even remember what defiance feels like.

“We could use the data as leverage,” I suggest. “Threaten to release the files unless they back down.”

“And if they call our bluff?” Marcus says. “If they come after us?”

I look to Arden, then to Myall. “Then we burn the bridges. We release everything and stand firm.”

The room falls silent. This is the line. Once crossed, there’s no going back.

“Are we agreed?” Myall asks, his gaze sweeping over each of us.

Arden nods first, then Marcus. I take a breath and close my eyes, seeing the future we’re trying to build, the lives we’re trying to save.

The decision feels like a weight I can’t shake. The idea of releasing this data, of showing the world the truth—it’s liberating, yes. But it’s also terrifying. If the people rise up, we may be their leaders. If they don’t, we’ll be the ones who ignited the fire. Either way, we’re out of control.

I think of the lives that could be lost, the faces I know we may never see again. But I can’t turn back now. We’ve made our choice.

“Yes,” I say. “We’re agreed.”

“We’re agreed,” Myall echoes. His voice is firm, but I can hear the exhaustion in it. “Let’s make sure it counts.”