Page 125 of Neon Flux

“Your navigation methods. They’re intuitive rather than algorithmic. You don’t just access the system—you resonate with it. Your Flux acts as an intermediary between the system and the code you write, correcting any errors.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping slightly. “It’s a use of Flux I’ve never seen before. One that interests me greatly.”

The subtext was clear: he hadn’t just been monitoring my work. He’d been monitoringme.

“Is that why you approved my contract?” I asked. “Because I’minteresting?”

“I approved your contract because you’re valuable, Ms. Ibarra. Far more valuable than I suspect you realize.” His perfect smile returned. “The patterns you’re capable of perceiving…they transcend conventional data structures. They touch on something more transformative.”

That same feeling I’d experienced in cyberspace returned—that sense of something vast and beyond my control was watching me. Only now, it wasn’t on the periphery. It was standing right in front of me.

“What does this have to do with Renard’s death?” I fought to keep my voice steady.

“Everything is connected, Ms. Ibarra. Patterns within patterns.” He straightened, smoothing his immaculate jacket. “That’s why I founded this company. POM Enterprises was once just POM Data. A profile for every human being on the planet. Their wants, their needs, their actions. People think we were just targeting ads—but it’s so much more than that. Individually,each of these profiles is not worth much. But the patterns they create? That is the true value.”

“And what do you do with that information?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

The smile on his face grew more genuine. It was not comforting. “Would you like to know? I can have an employment contract written up—”

“No, thank you.” I knew a trap when I saw one.

He cocked his head in a chilling motion. “So resistant.” He paused. “Tell me, what have you discovered about asset Hoshina during your collaboration?”

The abrupt shift caught me off guard. “Cy? What does he have to do with this?”

“Indulge me.”

I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. “He’s effective at his job. Committed.” I paused. “Deadly.” Everyone knew what POM Security did, but I doubted it was often stated so plainly. Levi ignored it.

“And your electromagnetic frequencies—how do they interact?”

Ice spread through my veins. There was no way he should know about that—about the resonance between us. How could he know?

“We maintain appropriate boundaries,” I said flatly.

Levi’s laugh was soft and completely devoid of genuine amusement. “Boundaries are fascinating constructs. Necessary for definition, yet always permeable at some level. Especially for people whose nature is fundamentally connective.”

Every instinct screamed danger, though there was nothing overtly threatening in his words—just weight, heavy and invasive.

“I should get back to work,” I said, gesturing to my Vysor. “The data won’t reconstruct itself.”

“Not yet, anyway. Perhaps a new project for next quarter.” Levi stepped back, giving me space. “But we can discuss that later.”

He turned to leave, every movement fluid and precise. Something about him reminded me of my encounters with Tex. But while Tex felt calculated, Levi radiated something older—colder.

“A piece of advice, Ms. Ibarra.”

I tensed, waiting.

“Some discoveries transform more than just our understanding.” His eyes held mine, and I couldn’t look away. “They transform us. Be prepared for that change.”

The words settled over me like a shroud.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I managed to ask.

His expression softened into something almost like compassion—which somehow made it more terrifying. “Don’t worry. When the time comes, I’ll ensure you’re exactly where you need to be.”

He left, and the space he’d occupied stayed charged with an energy I couldn’t name. I realized I was trembling, my Flux pulsing erratically beneath my skin. The screens before me flickered, the data forming patterns I could almost comprehend—then collapsing again.

One breath. Two. My heart was racing. Levi’s presence hadn’t just been oppressive—it had been overwhelming, like the room couldn’t quite hold whatever he truly was.