The Man the system forgot to Name

Chapter 6: The City That Watched Back.

The city was quieter at dawn.

Not peaceful, simply repressed, as a beast.

He was perched on a pedestrian bridge at the edge, and his hands on the cold rail, and watched the traffic slogging beneath him. Cars moved in perfect lines. No honking. No chaos. The system was compatible with everything and everything was obedient and predictable.

He hated mornings like this.

The city was at night playing deaf. During the morning it appeared to care.

There came another slight throb in his chest.

Not pain.

Not fear.

Awareness.

He shut his eyes, but one moment.

And that's when it happened.

A flicker--barely noticeable. His air became distorted, as though it were heat coming out of asphalt. Lines were visible, clear and pale and floating in the absence of things.

They weren't screens.

They weren't real.

Yet they were there.

His breath slowed.

The symbols changed and moved around like they were lost. His ears were filled with a low hum, gently but insistently.

Then a single line formed.

IDENTITY QUERY FAILED

His eyes snapped open.

The city remained just as it was--but he was different.

He felt it now. The pressure. Something huge had apparently focused on him. Streetlights cameras appeared to have taken a second longer. Another drone had flown by, not as quick as usual.

Too slow.

No, no, no, no, never, he said to himself. "Don't start this now."

The signs fluttered once more, and this time weaker, as though a signal which was choking.

RETRYING...

He stepped back from the rail.

Passers-by came past him--doffers coming and going, business people, college students. None observed anything. None of them felt what he felt.

That commonplace fact sunk in his heart.

It's just me.

The symbols were removed as quickly as they were added.

Silence returned.

But the feeling didn't.

He left the bridge and walked away, going out of time, in the stream of bodies. The city liked patterns. Never to be one he had survived the long.

There was a cafe on the corner that attracted his attention. Small. Old. The type of place the system had allowed tolerably due to the fact it had not yet discovered a reason to delete it.

He slipped inside.

Hot air, burnt coffee, low tones. Normal things.

He was sitting close to the window, facing the wall. Old habit.

The wall behind the counter was flashing with news headlines- economic predictions, weather and crime reports. All neat. All controlled.

Then the screen glitched.

Just once.

An inch long black streak went through the display then cleared itself up.

His jaw tightened.

It's spreading.

He didn't know how he knew. He just did.

The system was not expected to collapse. It was what the city was selling to all. Perfect records. Perfect order. Perfect futures.

And yet--

Without requesting, a woman was seated opposite him.

You did, too, she said to herself.

He instinctively put his hand towards his jacket pocket. He stopped himself.

"Sorry?" he answered, and held himself indifferently.

She was several years older than him. Sharp eyes. No visible implants. That alone was strange.

The glitch, she said and shook her drink. "On the bridge. On the screen just now."

He studied her carefully.

I do not know what you are talking of.

She smiled faintly. Not amused. Relieved.

That is what everybody says to begin with.

He stood.

"Wrong table."

When the symbols came on, your heart-rate increased, you see, she said.

He froze.

Slowly, he sat back down.

You ought not to say things like that, he said.

You should not exist, she answered.

There was a moment of silence between them.

Elsewhere the city passed on, unknowingly, that something had broken--something little, but beyond repair.

She leaned forward slightly.

The system has long been seeking you, has it been, she said. "It just didn't know how."

"And now?" he asked.

Her eyes met his.

"Now it's learning."

The throb at his heart fluttered--higher than ever.

And something updated itself somewhere deep in the city.

Not with his name.

But with his threat level.