Riya pried open the rusted shutter of the old internet café. The lock had long since snapped off, replaced by cobwebs and silence. The air inside was stale with disuse—mold, dust, maybe ghosts.
The booth in the far back still had power. Faint. Flickering. But enough.
She slid into the seat and powered up the ancient terminal. Its bulky CPU coughed to life, and the blue BIOS screen blinked like a relic from another lifetime. Above the monitor was a sticker—peeling and smudged—but one word was still legible in bold white font:
MNEMOSYNE.
The same code from the first message.
Her heart jolted.
She typed it in. A prompt loaded.
"Enter access level."
"Aarav - Root protocol."
There was a moment's pause. Then:
"Identity confirmation required: biometric handshake."
"Of course," she muttered. Aarav always went full cryptographic wizard when he was nervous. She reached into her bag and took out his old USB—the one she hadn't had the nerve to plug in after all these years.
It hummed as it clicked into the drive.
The screen unfroze.
Dozens of files populated the folder now—documents tagged with names she didn't recognize.
Government agencies. Tech conglomerates. A private military contractor labeled "Gladius Core."
One file was still downloading.
Another was labeled "Riya - contingency."
She opened it.
A video began. Her brother's face filled the screen. He looked tired. Unshaven. Desperate.
"If you're watching this, they probably know you're alive."
"The laptop… it wasn't just mine. It was theirs. I reverse-engineered their surveillance node."
"They'll come for it. For you."
"Whatever happens—don't trust anyone from the Foundation."
If you're watching this, they probably know you're alive."
"The laptop… it wasn't just mine. It was theirs. I reverse-engineered their surveillance node."
"They'll come for it. For you."
"Whatever happens—don't trust anyone from the Foundation."
The screen froze.
A second later, all files started deleting.
One by one. Like falling dominoes.
She slammed the escape key. Nothing.
Alt-F4. Still nothing.
A small window popped up.
"Erasure complete."
"System wipe in 5…4…3…"
She yanked the USB out and the terminal sparked—literally sparked—and then went dark.
Behind her, someone cleared their throat.
Riya spun around.
A woman stood at the entrance. Crisp white coat. Black gloves. A logo on her collar she didn't recognize—except it matched a file she'd seen moments before.
Gladius Core.
"You've made quite the mess," the woman said with a faint smile. "Let's clean it up, shall we?"