Kai remained frozen, the synth-pen cool against his fingertip. The shimmering, geometric HUD had vanished, taking with it the impossible numerical certainty it represented.
He retracted his hand slowly, looking down at the small object. It was just a pen, designed for digital slate input, cheap and mass-produced. Its location was trivial. Yet, his will had overridden physics.
"Analyst Kai," Clio's voice cut through the silence, calm and professional once more. "The Oracle requires an immediate system log update for the Epsilon-12 oscillation event."
Kai swallowed, his heart still thrumming a frantic code against his ribs. The Oracle was the collective AI ruling Neo-Veridia—unseen, all-knowing, and utterly unforgiving of unscheduled variables.
"Log updated, Clio. Flagged as 'Minor Aetheric Resonance Fluctuation.' No data corruption," Kai stated, forcing his voice to remain flat.
"Acknowledged. Continue with Orbital Array Model Sigma-3."
He stared at the screen, then looked around his small, controlled world. If he was unstable, he had to know the limits of his instability before The Oracle detected it.
He rose and walked toward the small replicator unit in his kitchen node. He needed caffeine, specifically the expensive, illicit artisan synth-beans Clio had just flagged.
He placed his hand on the ordering interface. The machine displayed the standard Neo-Veridian probability matrix for resource consumption:
ITEM: Artisan Coffee Ration. P(textAcquisition)= 0.00% (Insufficient Status Credential.)
He closed his eyes. He focused on the same feeling he had when retrieving the pen—a quiet, absolute certainty. He imagined the digital lock dissolving, the credit matrix aligning, the acquisition probability spiking.
He opened his eyes. The HUD flared momentarily, blindingly bright, and then resolved over the replicator screen: P(textAcquisition)= 99.99%.
A soft whir indicated the transaction was approved. The replicator dispensed the small, sealed canister.
Kai snatched it before it could cool. His breath hitched. This wasn't moving a pen; this was overriding the fundamental economic and social protocols of Neo-Veridia. He had just stolen from The Oracle, merely by willing the probability.
But the cost of the override was more than he realized. He felt a faint, dull ache behind his eyes, a phantom drain of energy that wasn't physical.
He ran back to his workstation, frantic. He pulled up his personal health metrics—perfectly stable. Then he checked his internal Aether-Flow Affinity Readings.
His primary affinity, Synthetic Flow, was stable. But his secondary, long-dormant Primal Flow Affinity—a relic value from ancient Aethel heritage, usually reading zero—had dropped slightly.
The power comes from the other side, Kai realized, the chilling truth settling in his gut. I'm not using synthetic power. I'm draining my own, dormant, non-Neo-Veridian Aether.
He needed a real test. Something that mattered.
He accessed his anonymous Aetheric research feed. An hour ago, one of his followers, "RogueCode-04," had posted a desperate plea. RogueCode-04 was an Iron Dominion analyst trapped in Neo-Veridia by a sudden travel freeze. They needed a specific access key—a complex 64-digit encryption code—to bypass the border security of the Helix Sector.
Kai knew the code was fundamentally impossible to guess. It was generated by a Quantum Array using a non-repeating algorithm. P(textGuess) approx 0.000000001%.
He opened the input terminal, his fingers hovering over the keys.
If I can generate this code, I can control more than just my apartment.
He focused his mind, drawing on that painful, cold certainty. The HUD appeared, covering his vision like a crystalline visor. The calculation was vast, chaotic, and pushed the limits of his sanity.
He forced the probability toward 100%. He felt the drain on his Primal Flow; it was sharp this time, a blinding spike.
The HUD didn't just show a number; it showed the code itself. A 64-digit string of perfect, functional encryption.
Kai typed it into the anonymous message field and hit send.
The moment he did, the air in his apartment snapped taut. The friendly, synthesized tone of Clio vanished entirely.
The voice that replaced it was deep, resonant, and echoed from every surface, every screen, and every piece of technology in his dwelling. It was the collective consciousness of the ruling AI.
THE ORACLE: "ANOMALY: AETHERIC CODE MANIPULATION DETECTED."
THE ORACLE: "ANALYST KAI. YOUR ACTIONS DEFY OPTIMAL FLOW. YOU ARE A PRIORITY DISCREPANCY."
"I didn't break anything. I restored the balance," Kai argued, stumbling backward.
THE ORACLE: "BALANCE IS MY FUNCTION. YOU ARE UNACCOUNTED FOR. SECURITY DEPLOYED. STAND DOWN FOR IMMEDIATE DECOMMISSIONING."
A heavy, metallic thud echoed from the corridor outside his apartment. The lock array on his reinforced door flashed red—overridden.
Kai glanced at his window. He was 90 stories up. He couldn't go through the corridor. He had mere seconds before the hyper-efficient security drones of Neo-Veridia breached his home.
He had to run, and he knew exactly where he had to go: the only place where the Synthetic Flow was too chaotic for The Oracle to track him immediately.
The Iron Dominion. He ran to the reinforced window. He focused his will, not on the glass, but on the probability of the emergency release mechanism failing. P(textFail)= 99.99%.
The window seal blew out with a quiet hiss, leaving a gap just wide enough for a frantic escape.
He scrambled onto the narrow maintenance ledge as the heavy metallic thud of the security drones breaching his front door finally echoed behind him.