Her gaze shifted to the small, flickering screen in the corner. It wasn't connected to E-Ve, of course. She'd stripped every piece of tech in her home of that parasitic network. But she couldn't help but watch the contraband broadcast now crackling to life.
"Another wave of collapses reported in Sector 4," the distorted voice of the rebel reporter announced. "Authorities say the victims showed signs of extreme emotional instability before their deaths. This is the result of emotional manipulation on a systemic scale"
Aria clicked the screen off, her heart pounding. She didn't need to hear more. The symptoms describedthe despair, the emotional dissonancewere all too familiar. She had seen them before, in the testing phase of E-Ve's algorithm, back when she still believed the AI would save lives.
The knock came as she was reaching for her coat. A single, deliberate sound that froze her mid-step. No one ever came out this far.
She grabbed the iron rod she kept by the door and peered through the crack. A man stood on her porch, his silhouette stark against the pale morning light. His coat was frayed, his face worn, but the sharpness in his eyes hadn't dulled.
"Lucien," she whispered, opening the door just enough to let him in.
"You're hard to find, Aria," he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "But we don't have time for pleasantries. It's Rowan. They're not safe."
The iron rod clattered to the floor.
"What happened?" she demanded, her voice sharper than she intended.
Lucien handed her a small device. "See for yourself."
The recording played on the cracked screen. Her sibling's voice was shaky, almost unrecognizable, as they argued with someone off-camera. "You're lying. You think I don't know what you're doing? You think I can't feel it?"
The screen blinked, and then Rowan's face appearedsunken, hollow. They looked directly into the camera, their voice barely above a whisper. "It's in my head, Aria. It's everywhere. And I don't know how much longer I can fight it."
Aria turned away, but Lucien caught her arm.
"You built this system," he said, his voice low but relentless. "You're the only one who can stop it."
She closed her eyes. The blueprints on the desk, the screams in the recording, the weight of her own guiltthey pressed down on her like a vice. She had spent years hiding from the monster she created. Now, it seemed, it had found her again.
"Fine," she said finally, grabbing her coat. "But if this goes wrong, I'm holding you responsible."
Lucien's smirk was bitter. "You'll have to get in line."
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