PREVIEW

... were folded. But systems don't die when they're seen—they die when the people who built them forget how to feel.

Scene: Archive Hub – 04:33 a.m.

Rook paced the corridor outside the central memory banks.

Ava stood near the south console, arms folded.

Aya was crouched at the corner server rack, rewiring the last uplink node with surgical focus.

Then: static crackled across the outer channel.

A signal buried in noise.

Encrypted. Primitive.

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