The quiet that followed Flavio's departure wasn't the familiar, enveloping stillness. Instead it was a delicate lull. The continuous drone had vanished, substituted by the gurgle of life-support machines and the far-off electronic beeping of failing systems. Within the debris of the platform among the sparkling shards of shattered crystalline pods rested Javier Jeffrey. Agata was, beside him promptly her medical scanner spinning, her expression tense.
"He's living. Brain signals are… disordered. Realigning. It resembles observing a metropolis's lights sparking to life after being dark, for a hundred years." She glanced at Devon her eyes open wide. "He's making an effort to think."
Devon avoided glancing at the brochure lying on the ground. His focus was on the center of the destroyed Engine. Not the broken core pod,. The object behind it—the large black obsidian pedestal that had supported the rotating wireframe model of the Lethargic Calculus. The model was now a mess of filament scattered on the floor.. The pedestal still stood. From its foundation a thick braided cable made of alloy as broad, as his arm, slithered into a conduit embedded in the wall. The primary power feed. The umbilical cord.
It throbbed with a lingering cobalt glow, a final diminishing reverberation of the signal. The amplifiers and satellites were shut down the network disrupted.. This was the origin node. The tangible link, to the grid that had once granted the silence its voice. It still contained energy, a ghost limb of the empire.
Flavio's proposal lingered in the atmosphere like a fragrance. Director of Authenticity Validation. The ability to mold the emerging clamor. To serve as the protector of the restless. It was a captivity, than any pod.
Ben tracked Devon's eyes toward the throbbing cable. He got it. He offered a somber nod. "It's merely a wire. Severing it changes nothing. The network is information. The concept has spread."
"I understand " Devon replied.
He moved beyond the pods beyond the bewildered expressions of the awakening Vacants, their palms against the glass, like little ones. He stepped over twitching conduits. Arrived at the foot of the plinth. The cable lay wrapped in a cold covering. There was no access hatch. No easy switch. It was built to be enduring, hidden the vein embedded within the wall.
He surveyed the area. His gaze landed on a fragment of the core pod—a lengthy menacing sliver of reinforced crystal as sharp as a knife. He grabbed it. It weighed down in his hand icy, to the touch.
It was the most analog of tools. A sharp rock. A flint.
Agata observed, her scanner left behind. Ben came over to stand next, to him not to assist, but to observe.
Devon refrained from wielding the shard as a weapon. Instead he knelt down next, to the cable. He aligned the crystal tip with the throbbing sheath. Pressing both hands onto it he shifted his weight forward. Started to saw.
The labor was tough and relentless. The sheath was crafted to endure conditions. The crystal carved away millimeter after millimeter emitting a noise, like teeth scraping stone. Genuine sparks scattered from the spot of friction. Sweat formed droplets on Devon's brow. His muscles ached fiercely. It felt useless, raw senseless.
A modern dilemma and his approach was an one.
He continued sawing. He wasn't attempting to win a battle. He wasn't executing a maneuver. He was carrying out a ceremony. A purification ritual.
With a piercing screech the crystal pierced the internal barrier. A dazzling burst of white radiance appeared, accompanied by a gasp-like noise and the scent of ozone and scorched plastic. The throbbing luminescence, in the cable vanished immediately. The profound low-frequency hum that had permeated the complex the final echo of the Engine's pulse stopped.
The subsequent quiet was unlike before. It felt vacant. Pure. It resembled the silence of a device that had ultimately tangibly shut down.
Devon let the crystal shard fall. His palms were raw his limbs shaking. He rose to his feet gasping for breath staring at the cut-off tip of the cable, dull and lifeless.
In the control room a last sequence of error alerts rolled by before halting. Indicators, on the consoles flickered off.
Inside his pod Kale Kane observed through the liquid-warped glass as the man cut the cable. The situation eluded his grasp.. The deed was clear. A deliberate tangible cut. A denial of connection. A deep straightforward no. A tear unlike sorrow's followed a trail down his face. It was a tear of awareness.
Agata exhaled deeply unaware she had been holding her breath. "You simply… unplugged it."
"Yeah " Devon replied, his tone rough.
Ben approached, glanced at the wound at Devon. A gradual genuine smile, the first, in years appeared on his lips. "Pointless.. Flawless."
Flavio's proposal was an agreement, a concept, with viral potential a novel paradigm. It couldn't be destroyed only outlasted.
This? This was a wire. An accomplished deed. Not existing in the cloud. In reality. A declaration inscribed not in information. In deed and ignition and tension. It wouldn't halt the emerging market Flavio intended to create. It wouldn't revive the awakening Vacants. Lead the startled world.
However a boundary was established. A frontier announced. On one side the infinite graceful negotiation of Controlled Desire. On the opposite this: a scorched palm, a fragment and the concrete gratifying conclusion of a link that had ceased to transmit a signal.
Devon faced away from the plinth. He moved back toward Agata and the awakening figure of Javier. The battle had not concluded. The forthcoming conflict—the struggle, over the significance of the awakening—was already underway. Yet he refused to engage it from a boardroom. He intended to confront it in the chaotic tangible fractured world using analog means and the taxing magnificent burden of genuine impact.
He had pulled the plug. It was a small thing. But in the age of the quiet, it was the loudest sound he could make.