The fluorescent lights of the Central Tower's upper levels
shone harshly, their pale glow reflecting off the sterile white walls. Elara
adjusted her gloves, the smooth leather tugging against her skin as she made
her way toward the main data processing hub. Her boots clicked softly against
the polished floor, each step echoing faintly in the vast, empty corridor. She
had walked these halls countless times, yet today they felt heavier, as though
the air itself carried the weight of something unspoken.
She paused briefly at the door to the processing hub, her
gaze flicking to the security console beside it. The holographic display pulsed
faintly, awaiting her credentials. Elara raised her hand, her palm brushing
lightly against the scanner. The console flashed green, and the door slid open
with a quiet hiss.
Inside, the hub was a sea of holographic displays, each one
alive with streams of data cascading across its surface. Elara stepped forward,
her shoulders straightening as she entered the room. Several of her colleagues
were already present, their movements precise and calculated as they worked.
She nodded to them briefly before taking her place at the central terminal.
"Morning, Dr. Veylin," one of her colleagues said, his voice
clipped but polite. He was older than her, with neatly combed gray hair and a
face lined with years of discipline. His name was Dr. Lior Branson, and he had
been a mentor to Elara during her early years in the Tower. Though their
interactions were formal, there was an unspoken respect between them.
"Good morning, Dr. Branson," Elara replied, her voice steady
as she adjusted the terminal's settings. The holographic display shimmered
under her touch, the data rearranging itself into a more manageable format.
They worked in silence for a time, the hum of the system
filling the air. Elara's gaze darted across the streams of data, her mind
processing the information with practiced efficiency. Compliance metrics were
stable across most districts, but her attention was drawn to one in particular:
**Sector 7**.
The anomaly hadn't disappeared. If anything, it had
grown—its impact now spreading across adjacent districts. Elara frowned, her
gloved fingers hovering over the terminal as she magnified the data. Irregular
emotional responses, flagged but not neutralized. Her pulse quickened as the
patterns came into focus.
"This doesn't make sense," she murmured, almost to herself.
Dr. Branson glanced at her, his brow furrowing slightly.
"Another irregularity?"
Elara hesitated before nodding. "Yes. It's subtle, but it's
spreading."
Branson leaned closer, his expression tightening as he
examined the data on her display. He didn't say anything for a long moment, his
gaze flicking across the screen. Finally, he exhaled softly and straightened.
"We've seen anomalies like this before," he said quietly. "They're rare, but...
persistent."
"Persistent?" Elara repeated, her voice tinged with
confusion.
"They don't follow the usual patterns," Branson explained.
"Sometimes, no matter how many adjustments we make, they remain... unresolved."
Elara frowned, her mind racing. She had never encountered an
anomaly that couldn't be corrected. The system was designed to adapt, to
neutralize irregularities efficiently. The idea that something could evade its
control was... unsettling.
Before she could respond, a notification flashed across her
terminal: **Directive Update. Investigate Sector 7. Immediate Compliance
Required.**
Elara's stomach tightened as she read the message. The
council was aware of the anomaly, and now it was her responsibility to uncover
the cause. She nodded to Branson briefly before logging out of the central
terminal and gathering her materials.
The drive to Sector 7 was long, the sleek transport gliding
silently through the city's orderly streets. Elara sat in the back, her gaze
fixed on the grid-like patterns of buildings passing by the window. From here,
the city looked flawless, its symmetry soothing in its predictability. Yet
beneath that facade, she knew, cracks were forming.
When she arrived at the district, the atmosphere was
different. The air felt heavier, tinged with something intangible. Elara
stepped out of the transport and adjusted her gloves, her movements precise as
she approached the local regulation center. The building was smaller than the
Central Tower, but its design was identical—clean lines, sterile walls, the
faint hum of the system vibrating beneath her boots.
Inside, the regulation center was quiet. The staff greeted
her with polite nods as she made her way to the main terminal. Elara logged in,
her fingers moving swiftly as she accessed the anomaly reports. The data was
fragmented, incomplete, as though something had disrupted its flow. Her frown
deepened as she pieced the fragments together.
A name caught her attention: **Kael**. It was attached to
several flagged files, though the details were sparse. No occupation, no
residential allocation—only a series of timestamps marking his movements
through the district. Elara's breath caught as she magnified the profile. The
image attached was grainy, distorted, but his glowing green eyes shone vividly
through the haze. Unmistakable.
"Who are you?" Elara murmured under her breath, her voice
barely audible over the hum of the terminal.
The air around her felt colder now, charged with a tension
she couldn't explain. Her gloves creaked softly as she clenched her fists, her
mind racing. Whoever Kael was, he wasn't just an anomaly. He was something else
entirely.