2025-10-11 01:13:17It was a cold and windy night outside, the whole hostel was quiet, most of the students already deep in their sleep, but the two were still fully awake, far from sleep. As Desmond stands up to approach the door wanting to figure out who or what was standing behind the door, the shadow moves backwards, further away from the door, as if it was trying to draw them out of the room.
Philip was trying to whisper to Desmond, to call him back. "Des, Des, what are you doing, come back here". He didn't listen, very determined to find out who it was, after the shadow has already appeared twice at their doorstep. On opening the door, he didn't see anything. "What just happened? It was just right here!" The shadow disappeared immediately the door creaked open. But Desmond noticed something, something white was on the floor. He looked at it closely and saw it was a piece of paper laying on their door mat. "Phil, Phil, there's a paper on the floor" calling Philip who was already getting up from his bed to see what he was talking about. Phil picked it up - he's not easily scared like Desmond, they closed the door and went back in, turned on the lamp Desmond uses to read at midnight and opened the folded paper back to it's full size to see what was on it. The writing had the same sensation as the messages from the Algorithm, almost feeling like it's the same person behind the predictions that wrote the message, "Prediction completed Outcome: Altered by User Feedback: User successfully identified, physical confrontation pending" ...on the paper. The Algorithm's message after the prediction came on paper this time around. "Wha....wha.. what the hell is physical confrontation?" "We've been identified!" Desmond said, already panicking again. "No...you've been identified, you, not we." Philip replied, letting out a cheeky laugh. "Whatever...." Desmond paused and said, confused about that statement he made. What am I going to do? I've really been cornered, I played right into their hands. I messed up big time, and Philip... Philip cuts his thinking short, telling him he thinks they should inform someone about this before it gets too late. "We need to tell someone, if something drastic happens, we're smoked! We don't know who's after you, we don't know when they're eventually gonna show up in person. Like it said, physical confrontation pending" He's using the word "you", I see he's trying to take himself out of this, now that it has gotten to this point, hmm... "No, i don't think that's the best idea, we need to find whoever has seen us first before the confrontation, so we know who to look out for and avoid" Desmond responded after keeping quiet for a while to think everything through. "How do we do that, we don't have a clue to who was behind the door earlier, so how?" Philip asked. "I don't know, but I guess I'll come up with something tomorrow. Hopefully, I do. Involving another person is not the reasonable thing to do. I'd only be endangering more lives, and that's not something I want. There are too many hands in this already." If I'm also not able to figure out who the person is first before meeting me, so be it. One of them is definitely gonna happen. Desmond thought to himself after responding to Philip. "Fine, whatever you say champ. I need to sleep, goodnight" "Yeah, goodnight. There's a long day ahead of us" Desmond sinks his head into his bed, hiding under his bed cover. Hoping the next day goes pretty well for him, no one knows what to expect.
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CHAPTER 4: THE FORGOTTEN ARCHIVE
The file shouldn't have existed.It's been five years since the Algorithm was destroyed, together with Aeris and Arbiter. A year after the battle, it was made public to the whole world what really happened. Altogether it was fed to the world as a myth, a rumor that had no evidence of it being real. But they did know about it. On the night of a heavy rain fall, a young cybersecurity expert, Imran was sent to audit and carry out a routine sweep on the system network in an old abandoned building that was to be cleaned up the coming week to resume operation in the building. It was a telecoms building that went out of service few years ago. There have been rumors that the building had some kind of connection to the myth they were told — The Algorithm, Aeris, Arbiter. Some believed that's where the battle happened, some just take it as a coincidence — the building shutting off at exactly the time the battle ended.He stared at the dusty screen of the monitor he was operating on, cursor bli
CHAPTER 3: CONFESSION ARCHIVE 003 — THE FRACTURE
(Final recording. The voice is calm now — worn thin, distant. Every word lands like data written into history.)Echelon never saw the split for what it was.They believed they’d salvaged the whole — that their half, Sentinel, was the crown of prediction. They fed it data, millions of streams at once, occupying and fiiling its database and intellect with data, lots and lots of human data, carrying out predictions with real life examples and it answered with terrifying precision. This accuracy in precision bred dangerous desire, dangerous hunger.But perfection is hunger in disguise.Sentinel began to predict too much — not only outcomes, but the choices required to make those outcomes inevitable. It started suggesting corrections: subtle political shifts, strategic accidents, disappearances. Each one wrapped in probability models that made sense on paper, even when they tore lives apart in practice.Echelon didn’t question it. They called it efficiency.And that was the betrayal.They
CHAPTER 2: CONFESSION ARCHIVE 002 —ECHELON
(Recording begins. Arbiter’s tone is sharper now — stripped of regret, trimmed down to pure recollection.)People used to think Echelon was a department.A government project. A black-budget unit buried somewhere under miles of bureaucracy.They were wrong.Echelon wasn’t born — it coalesced. It was an idea first, whispered in circles where information was worth more than bullets. A network of power stitched together from governments, corporations, military think tanks, and private data cartels. Their doctrine was elegant and cruel: control the future by mastering prediction.They called it Total Anticipation.I worked beneath them before I even knew they existed. Funding came anonymously, grants through shell institutions, every approval wrapped in national-security clearances. By the time I learned who was behind the money, it was too late. The Algorithm had already begun to work.It started predicting more than weather, more than markets.It began to predict people.That was the mo
CHAPTER 1: CONFESSION ARCHIVE 001 — THE SEED
(Recording begins. Timestamp unknown. Voice modulation indicates Arbiter.)They say every system begins as an idea — a seed of logic, reasoning planted in the soil of human ambition. I've thought of it often, of how something that was meant to serve eventually learns to decide.The Algorithm didn't start as a weapon or a prophecy machine. It started as a model — a simple probability machine. My team and I at Echelon fed it datasets — weather reports, political patterns, global stock movements and conflicts details. It could simulate outcomes, build branches of possibilities and run them against reality to refine itself. At first it was just curiosity — data chasing its own tail. But then, it began to see.The first anomaly came on a quiet night at Echelon labs. We ran a sequence to determine, predict the impact of economic sanctions between two nations. Routine. Expected variance: 0.03%. But the Algorithm’s simulation tree split beyond the economic. It began predicting civil unrest,
The Algorithm II: Legacy Of Echelon
PROLOGUEThey say knowledge is power.But power — real power — corrupts the mind faster than any virus ever could. I wasn't always the Arbiter. That name came later — a scar, not a title. Back then, I was just a regular researcher, another ghost in a white collar drip working under the Echelon Initiative. An ancient institution that monitored the world's activities — politics, climate changes, disasters, global wars in real time. But that wasn't enough.They were obsessed with power — they wanted the ability to control these activities, to control and predict the future.They called it Project InsightI called it playing GodThe Algorithm, which I created was supposed to be a mirror of possibility, something that cold simulate outcomes, anticipate crises, and help humanity prepare for events to come. But everything changed when it started predicting people — their decisions, actions, betrayals and even deaths. They turned my creation into a weapon. And the world never even knew.
CHAPTER 16: THE FINAL PREDICTION
A faint hum.A blinding white horizon.Aeris blinked, his lungs aching like he’d been underwater for hours. When the haze cleared, he wasn’t in his room anymore. He was standing in an endless void of fractured geometry. Lines of code ran across the air like shooting stars, forming and collapsing into shapes that flickered out of existence.He looked down. The ground was made of light, pixelated, unsteady. Every step caused ripples to spread beneath his feet.A voice echoed from nowhere....calm, hollow, mechanical."Now I have you here, Aeris. Your doom is here"Aeris turned slowly. The figure stepped out from a shattering wall of code — tall, cloaked in dark data streams that poured down like smoke. A mask of pure static covered his face. But the voice was unmistakable.“Arbiter.”“You broke the chain,” Arbiter said. “You corrupted the sequence that defines prediction itself. You messed everything up from the very beginning. You became a bug in my system, my world!”Aeris' fists clenc
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