It wasn't his habit to request meetings.
In the system, everything passed through reports, through codes, through organized silence.
But this time, it wasn't enough.
He entered the auxiliary meeting room on the 12th floor using his encrypted ID.
Didn't wait for an invitation—just sent one alert:
"Request for direct confrontation. Subject: Target 347 – Ruba Salim."
He sat and waited.
Minutes passed. Then the Director entered.
His black suit bore no insignia; his voice needed no introduction.
He sat without looking at him.
— "What's new, 707?"
He pulled out the file, placed it on the table, and said calmly:
— "The girl, Ruba Salim, is innocent… but she carries a legacy we did not authorize."
He opened the first page and began:
— "The Gray Book: One copy out of twelve, reserved for former members of the Deep System.
— Source: Fouad Salim, alias S-09, officially missing since 2017.
— Connection: Her maternal uncle.
— Delivery: Personal, undocumented.
— Conclusion: The target holds an advanced visual memory code—without knowing it."
He paused for a moment, then added:
— "So far, no hostile behavior. No awareness of the content. No attempt to activate or distribute.
But… close proximity increases the possibility of indirect activation."
The Director slowly raised his head.
— "And your recommendation?"
His gaze didn't waver:
— "Immediate severance of contact.
Seizure of the book. And specifically… termination of the target."
The Director was silent for a long time, then stood.
— "The girl knows nothing, you say?"
— "Yes. But she's an exposed thread. And exposed threads attract seekers."
He walked toward the window, his back to the agent, then said quietly:
— "Fine. The book first.
Then… finish it."
On his way out, 707 felt something heavy pressing on his chest.
It wasn't doubt.
It was memory.
Of that old mistake.
Of the girl who was erased from existence… just because he hesitated.
But he convinced himself once more:
Ruba is not Yumna.
And maybe… she's not as innocent as she seems.
Now, he had 72 hours.
Either he ends the game.
Or it turns on him.
---
In his temporary room, he placed Ruba's paper file beside a cold cup of tea.
Everything was in order:
A photo of her old university ID.
A purchase receipt from a bookstore that no longer exists.
A handwritten note from her uncle:
"To Ruba… When your memory grows, you'll understand."
He read the line over and over.
"You'll understand."
Understand what? And why now?
He opened the restricted file "S-09" — Fouad Salim's dossier.
The mastermind behind the "Non-Deterministic Memory" project.
A man who believed that some minds are born carrying codes without needing indoctrination.
He vanished after a fierce dispute with the administration.
They accused him of creating "cognitive bombs" — triggered simply by reading.
707 recalled one of the quotes attributed to Fouad:
"If what you read passes through you without a trace, it's just ink.
But if something inside you awakens… the first phase has begun."
He knew now:
Ruba had entered the first phase.
But she didn't know.
And that made it even more dangerous.
He lingered over her photo.
Not an operative.
Not a criminal.
But now, a conduit… for something never meant for the ordinary world.
Before sleeping, he sent a brief encrypted report to the executive division.
The final line was clear:
"Execution within 72 hours.
Objective: Recover the material. Target classification: Cessatio."
A Latin word.
It meant: total termination.
And yet, before he shut down his terminal, he typed one sentence and immediately deleted it:
"I need to see her one last time… before execution."
Because he knew…
that meeting could change everything.