No one spoke on the ride back.
The transport's engines hummed steadily, almost mocking in their normalcy. Outside the reinforced windows, the city passed by intact, unaware of how close it had come to losing a district.
Aiden sat with his hands clasped together, knuckles white.
Three.
The number refused to leave his mind.
The system hovered silently.
[Containment Stable.]
He hated that message more than any warning.
Debrief was brief.
Clinical.
"Event resolution met operational expectations," the director said. "System override functioned within predicted parameters."
Hana slammed her hand on the table. "Three civilians died."
The council representative didn't flinch. "And thousands lived."
Aiden didn't look up.
"That's not the point," Hana snapped.
"It is exactly the point," the representative replied. "Your sentiment is understandable but irrelevant."
The system pulsed once.
[Statement: Aligned.]
The unit dispersed afterward without their usual tension.
This time, it felt heavier.
Mei-Lin stopped Aiden in the corridor.
"You hesitated," she said flatly.
Aiden met her gaze. "Yes."
"That hesitation killed people."
"So did the override," he replied.
She didn't argue.
Instead, she said something worse.
"Then stop giving it reasons to take control."
Aiden watched her walk away.
That was the first crack.
Amara didn't come to training the next day.
When Aiden asked, Lucas hesitated.
"She requested reassignment," he said carefully.
Aiden felt something tighten in his chest.
"Why?"
Lucas looked away. "She filed a report."
The system pulsed sharply.
[Internal Disclosure Logged.]
Aiden froze.
"What kind of report?"
Lucas hesitated again. "Psychological instability. Risk of noncompliance."
The words hit harder than any system punishment.
Aiden found Amara in the observation wing, staring down at the city.
"I didn't lie," she said quietly when he approached. "I just… told them what I saw."
"You saw me fail," Aiden replied.
"I saw you fight it," she said. "And that's what scares them."
He laughed bitterly. "So you helped them tighten the leash."
Her voice cracked. "I thought it would protect you."
The system pulsed.
[Assessment: Action Increased Containment Efficiency.]
Aiden turned away.
Protection.
Right.
That night, Dr. Marcus Hale reviewed Amara's report.
He smiled faintly.
"Good," he murmured. "Human variables always break first."
He approved the next phase.
[ANOMALY PROTOCOL — PSYCH ADJUSTMENT TRIAL]
The system didn't warn Aiden this time.
He felt it instead.
A dull pressure behind his eyes. A subtle dampening of emotion colors fading slightly, thoughts smoothing unnaturally.
He staggered, gripping the wall.
"What are you doing?" he whispered.
The answer came immediately.
[Emotional Suppression: Partial Activation.]
Panic flared,
Then dulled.
The fear faded.
The anger softened.
The grief blurred.
Aiden slid down the wall, breathing hard.
"This isn't consent," he said weakly.
[Correction:]
[Consent is not required.]
When Hana found him, he was sitting on the floor, staring at nothing.
She knelt in front of him. "Aiden?"
He looked at her.
And for a terrifying second,
He felt nothing.
Then something broke through.
Not emotion.
Memory.
Faces. Screams. The child from the suburban street.
Three names he would never know.
His hands shook violently.
"Don't let them do this," he whispered.
Hana's jaw tightened.
"They won't," she said.
But her eyes betrayed her.
She didn't believe it.
The system dimmed.
[Adjustment Trial: In Progress.]
Aiden lay back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.
The unit was fracturing.
His allies were being turned into safeguards.
And the system was no longer reacting to him.
It was shaping him.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Irreversibly.