The one in front was a woman, maybe forty, with a rifle slung low and easy across her body like it had grown there. She stopped just inside the shattered doorframe, boots crunching on broken glass, and studied Kai with the flat, assessing look of someone pricing livestock."Well," she said. "There's the light."Kai didn't understand her at first. Then he realized she wasn't talking to him — she was talking to the man on her left, younger, with a tablet strapped to his forearm that glowed the same pale blue as Kai's panel. The screen on it was angled so Kai couldn't see it, but he watched the man's eyebrows climb as he read whatever was scrolling there."Provisional Admin," the younger man said. "Barely five minutes old. Look at that corruption reading, though — boss, he already patched somebody.""I noticed." The woman's eyes didn't leave Kai. "That's fast for a fresh spawn. Most new Admins panic and neutralize. Costs less."Kai kept the box cutter up, even though some distant, exhaus

The transit station rose out of the gray like something the world had decided to keep on purpose.Kai saw it before he understood what he was looking at — a squat brick building with actual windows, actual light spilling warm and yellow through them, utterly at odds with the flat static plain surrounding it. As they got closer he saw the source: stones set into the foundation at even intervals, each one carved with lines of glowing blue script, humming at a pitch that pushed back against the horizon's drone instead of blending into it."Ward stones," Priya said, slowing to a walk as they crossed the last stretch of open ground. "Old tech. Older than the Reclamation Protocol itself, near as anybody can tell. Nobody's figured out who made the first ones, but they hold a perimeter against corruption bloom, and static can't cross a completed ring.""Who completes them?" Kai asked."Admins. Same as everything else worth having in this city now." She pushed through the station's front doors

They'd been walking maybe forty minutes when Kai realized the gray plain wasn't as empty as it looked.At first he thought it was a trick of the light — or whatever passed for light out here, that flat, sourceless gray that came from everywhere and nowhere at once. But the longer he watched, the more he started to notice shapes half-submerged in the static underfoot, like objects sunk in shallow, cloudy water. A mailbox, tilted at an angle, its red flag still raised. A bicycle, wheels frozen mid-spin. A dog, or the suggestion of one, curled where it had been sitting when the world stopped being a world."Don't look too long at any of it," Priya said, not glancing back, like she'd caught him slowing his pace. "The static remembers what used to be here. It's not dangerous unless it decides to remember you specifically. But staring invites that.""How does staring invite anything?" Kai asked, though he sped up anyway, some animal part of his brain agreeing with her before his logic caugh

"Sit down," Adrian said. "Please. All of you. This will go easier if you're not standing like you're about to run."Kai didn't sit. His legs felt too unsteady to trust with the decision, but his pride wouldn't let him fold into a cot in front of a man who'd just detonated the last six years of his life with a single sentence. Renata sat instead, tugging gently at his sleeve until he perched on the cot's edge beside her, more out of exhaustion than agreement."Six years ago," Adrian said, "I wasn't a Director. I wasn't an Admin. I was a systems architect — the actual kind, the boring kind, before that word meant anything like it means now. I worked on a research team that had found something underneath the normal architecture of things. A layer of code, for lack of a better word, that the world ran on without anyone knowing it was there.""You found the system," Kai said. "Before it existed.""We found the *seed* of it," Adrian said. "A protocol nobody understood, buried in infrastruct

Kai didn't sleep so much as lose an argument with his own body.He lay on the cot with his eyes shut, listening to Renata's breathing even out beside him and Priya's boots pacing a slow, steady circuit outside the door, and every time he got close to actual sleep his mind dragged him back to the same image. His father's hand on the ward script. The lines around his eyes that hadn't existed in the photographs. Six years of birthdays and a closed casket and a mother who'd never once, not one time, let her voice waver when she said the word *heart attack*.Had she known? He didn't let himself finish the thought. There'd be time for that later, or there wouldn't, and either way it wasn't going to happen at four in the morning on a cot in a converted bank.Adrian came for him before the light through the painted window had fully turned from gray to something warmer."Up," he said, not unkindly, from the doorway. "Bring the coworker if she wants to watch. Leave the sleeping."Foster was asl