"Even light has memory; it only forgets when it breaks."
I – The Fracture Beneath the Dome
The room was dim except for the projection.
Fragments hovered above the desk in slow, overlapping layers—data without hierarchy.
No timeline. No playback bar. Just density.
Light rippled across the surface of Mrs. Hong's workstation as the neural interface synchronized—threads of pale blue and amber flickering in irregular pulses. Each corresponded to a recovered pathway inside Cee-Too's excavated core. Not whole memories. Not yet. Just access.
A lattice bloomed in midair.
Not images at first—structures.
Power curves. Signal variance. Heat maps drifting subtly out of alignment.
Then motion began to resolve.
The Central Sector Dome Settlement appeared—not as a city, but as geometry. Concentric arcs layered over one another. Pressure lines etched into space. Artificial light behaving the way it only did under strain. There was no sky here—only a dark metallic canopy, a structural plate buried deep underground, engineered two centuries ago to survive nuclear annihilation. Its surface showed fractures now, hairline and overlooked, in places no one had been watching.
A timestamp surfaced in the corner of the projection.
Flickered.
Reset itself.
Mrs. Hong noticed the timestamp and chose not to touch it. It was her son's memory.
As the reconstruction stabilized, the data stream shifted perspective—pulling upward, outward—until the view settled behind reinforced glass at the topmost spire. Warning glyphs cascaded into place, red and exact, their cadence too regular to be panic.
Somewhere deep in the neural map, a node brightened.
Cee-Too's classification marker pulsed once—acknowledgment without commentary.
The memory locked.
Only then did the system allow the scene to proceed.
The illusionary sky above the Central Sector Dome Settlement (CSDS) rippled faintly—light bending as though disturbed by invisible breath. Most residents didn't notice; the dome often flickered after long trading days when the Thorium grid cooled unevenly. But tonight's distortion wasn't from exhaustion.
From the topmost spire, Zhang Bo watched the dome's surface from behind reinforced glass. The auric gridlines that usually glowed steady gold now trembled like threads of a spiderweb in wind. Beneath their pattern, red warnings streamed across his console in cascading code:
[POWER GRID IRREGULARITY: 0.42%]
[THERMAL FLUCTUATION: NOMINAL]
[SIGNAL DISTORTION: ASCENDING – 19.8%]
Zhang's jaw tightened.
"AI," he said quietly, "cross-reference merchant frequency outputs with maintenance channel fluctuations. Look for identical timestamp signatures."
"Confirmed," the artificial voice replied. "Analyzing… correlation detected. Source patterns consistent with deliberate data masking."
"Probability of threat?"
"Eighty-point-four percent, Director. Estimated casualty risk—high."
A silence fell between man and machine—brief but heavy. The air inside the command tier pulsed faintly with the hum of Thorium conduits buried beneath the floor. Zhang straightened his posture and tapped the intercom panel.
"This isn't a system error," he murmured.
He didn't hesitate.
"Voice command: Crimson Veil Protocol."
A pause—a low chime—and the AI's tone deepened.
"Authorization confirmed. Activating defense sequence."
All across CSDS, shutters began to slide over glass corridors.
The hum of ordinary life turned into mechanical thunder.
Zhang spoke again.
"Contact Mr. Qiran's office—urgent code Red-Seven. Request full lockdown authorization. And connect me to Cee-Ar-Tee."
"Connection open."
Zhang's tone hardened.
"Combat-readiness protocol—engage for all android security, augmented human, and special cyborg personnel. Turret network—raise sensitivity to ten-meter lethal range for unregistered heat signatures. Repeat—ten-meter."
The AI's acknowledgment pulsed through the walls like a heartbeat.
"Command confirmed. Combat-ready status engaged."
He wasn't done.
"Broadcast this message across all sectors."
A red light blinked once before his voice spread through the entire dome, echoing down streets, corridors, and homes alike:
"Attention all residents—possible internal and external threat detected.
Non-combat personnel, return to your quarters immediately.
Seal all access doors. Maintain communication silence until further notice.
This is not a drill."
The voice faded. A hum replaced it—the tense kind that lived in the air after lightning struck but before thunder followed.
From the panoramic window, Zhang could see the dome's illusion shimmer. Far below, the light of the settlement flickered from gold to crimson as thousands of shutters sealed across the lower tiers.
His reflection wavered on the glass—half in light, half in shadow.
"The storm's coming," he murmured. "And this time, it's human."
He turned toward the auxiliary screen on his right, where a schematic of the dome bloomed into holographic layers—each representing one faction:
the Merchant Tier, the Residential Quarter, the Data Archive Nexus, and the Energy Conduits stretching like arteries beneath them all.
"AI," he said, voice colder now, "mark all irregular nodes. Begin predictive trajectory modeling for cascading system failure."
"Model initialized."
Lines of light began to converge over the eastern sector—the maintenance wing.
Zhang exhaled through his nose.
"So that's where the fracture begins."
He turned his gaze to the surveillance panel. A faint silhouette appeared in one of the feeds—a man crouched over a terminal inside a maintenance conduit, his movements hidden from most cameras.
Zhang's eyes narrowed.
"Talgat."
The AI confirmed with a blink.
"Subject detected in maintenance level nine, east conduit. Status: unauthorized."
"Don't engage yet," Zhang ordered. "Just keep eyes on him. I want to see who else moves when he does."
He tapped another console, bringing up secondary live feeds from the Merchant Tier and the Data Archive Nexus—two sectors already shimmering with subtle power flickers.
The screen split into quadrants:
Qiran's vault lights pulsing faintly red.
Mrs. Hong switching to emergency standby.
A faint energy distortion—unknown origin—appearing for a split second within the Data Archive Nexus.
And in the maintenance feed, Talgat's silhouette still crouched beside the power relay.
"Everything," Zhang whispered to himself, "is converging."
He pressed his thumb to the security key embedded in his desk.
"Begin Level-Three containment drills. All command-level personnel to standby positions."
The AI paused. "Director, shall I notify the council?"
"Not yet." His gaze lingered on the feed of the eastern conduits.
"Let's see who panics first."