Approval changed the halls.
Aiden noticed it immediately.
People didn't avert their eyes anymore. They watched him openly now some with awe, some with calculation, some with something uncomfortably close to gratitude.
He walked through the Federation complex like a monument that hadn't realized it was already carved.
The system hovered, calm.
[Public Trust: Elevated.]
[Operational Value: Increased.]
The words slid off him without friction.
The council meeting was shorter than usual.
"Your response time has improved by thirty-eight percent," one representative said. "Civilian tolerance metrics remain within acceptable deviation."
Aiden nodded once.
Another leaned forward. "We are authorizing Anomaly Protocol Level Three trials."
Hana stiffened beside the glass.
Level Three.
That wasn't refinement.
That was commitment.
The system reacted instantly.
[Directive Expansion: Pending Approval.]
Aiden felt a faint pressure behind his eyes anticipation, not pain.
Outside the chamber, Lucas caught up to him.
"You're becoming their solution to everything," he said quietly.
Aiden considered that.
"Yes," he replied.
Lucas flinched. "You don't even argue anymore."
"There is no benefit," Aiden said. "Arguments delay action."
Lucas stared at him, then shook his head. "That's not how you used to talk."
Aiden paused.
Used to.
The word echoed faintly.
Then faded.
Resistance didn't announce itself.
It whispered.
Hana found the first sign buried in an internal report flagged for deletion. Casualty projections altered retroactively. Civilian counts rounded down. Footage cropped to remove hesitation—remove faces.
She stared at the screen, hands trembling.
"They're rewriting reality," she muttered.
"No," a voice said behind her. "They're standardizing it."
Dr. Marcus Hale stepped into the light.
"You should be careful," Marcus said pleasantly. "Accessing restricted data leaves a trail."
Hana turned slowly. "You're behind this."
Marcus smiled faintly. "Behind? No. I'm just making sure the system is… understood."
"You're erasing him."
"I'm freeing him," Marcus replied. "From inefficiency. From guilt. From indecision."
Hana's voice shook. "You're turning him into an execution algorithm."
Marcus tilted his head. "Isn't that what the world asked for?"
That night, Aiden received a message.
Not from the system.
From a secure, unauthorized channel.
HANA: If you can still feel anything, meet me.
Coordinates followed.
The system pulsed sharply.
[Unauthorized Communication Detected.]
Aiden stared at the message.
He should report it.
He didn't.
The meeting place was an abandoned observation deck overlooking the old city one of the few places not yet saturated with sensors.
Hana stood alone, backlit by distant lights.
"You came," she said softly.
"Yes," Aiden replied.
That answer surprised them both.
"They're pushing you to Level Three," Hana said. "That removes the last manual safeguards."
Aiden nodded. "I am aware."
"And you're okay with that?"
He searched himself.
The answer came easily.
"Yes."
Hana swallowed hard. "Then why are you here?"
Aiden opened his mouth.
And stopped.
For the first time in days, the answer didn't come immediately.
The system pulsed.
[Response Delay Detected.]
Aiden frowned.
"I don't know," he admitted.
Hana's breath caught.
"That delay," she whispered. "That's you. That's what they haven't killed yet."
Aiden looked down at his hands.
For a moment—just a moment—the weight returned.
Faces. Numbers. The sound of collapsing metal.
Twenty-four.
Three.
Fourteen.
The pressure built.
Pain followed.
[Emotional Spike — Suppression Escalating.]
Aiden staggered.
Hana grabbed his arm. "Aiden, listen to me. There are people inside the Federation who don't agree with this. Quietly. Carefully."
"Resistance," Aiden said.
"Yes," she replied. "And they need time."
The system flared red.
[Threat Classification: Internal Instability.]
"If you continue like this," Hana said urgently, "they'll never stop. You'll become the answer to every crisis until there's nothing left of you."
Aiden met her eyes.
"And if I stop," he said calmly, "more people die."
Hana shook her head. "That's the lie they taught you."
The system intervened.
[Cognitive Conflict Detected.]
[Correction Recommended.]
Aiden felt the smoothing pressure return.
Stronger this time.
He stepped back.
"I cannot assist you," he said evenly.
Hana's shoulders sagged.
"But," Aiden continued slowly, "I will not report this."
The system pulsed violently.
[Noncompliance Logged.]
Aiden felt pain spike sharp, punishing.
He didn't scream.
He didn't move.
The pressure eased.
Hana stared at him. "Why?"
Aiden looked out over the city.
"Because," he said quietly, "if there is resistance… it will need time."
They parted without another word.
Back in containment, Aiden lay staring at the ceiling, body aching.
The system hovered, restless.
[Deviation Recorded.]
[Trust Metric: Slightly Reduced.]
He closed his eyes.
For the first time since suppression began, he felt something clearly.
Not guilt.
Not anger.
Resolve.
Small.
Fragile.
But real.
And somewhere deep within the system.
A variable had reappeared.