The lockdown began without warning.
No alarms.
No announcements.
Just silence where options used to be.
Aiden felt it the moment he tried to access mission history beyond the last seventy-two hours.
[ACCESS DENIED.]
He frowned.
That had never happened before.
The system surfaced deliberately this time.
Not as an overlay.
As a presence.
[System Status: Elevated Security State.]
[Designation: LOCKDOWN PROTOCOL.]
[Reason: Anomaly Drift.]
Aiden exhaled slowly.
"So you finally admit it," he said. "I'm drifting."
[Correction:]
[You are deviating.]
Movement inside the facility changed.
Corridors rerouted subtly. Observation windows polarized. Personnel access became conditional, no longer routine.
Even Marcus Hale stopped appearing in person.
He spoke through glass now.
Through layers.
"We're narrowing the field," Marcus said calmly during a monitored session. "For your safety."
"For control," Aiden replied.
Marcus smiled faintly. "Same thing, eventually."
The system pulsed.
[Dialogue Tolerance: Active.]
Aiden noted it.
Even conversations were being rationed.
The first consequence came that night.
A mission alert flashed,
Then vanished.
No coordinates.
No deployment.
Nothing.
The system spoke again.
[External Response Temporarily Suspended.]
Aiden stiffened. "Suspended?"
[System Lockdown prioritizes internal stabilization.]
"People are dying while you stabilize," Aiden said.
The system paused.
[Acceptable Loss Threshold Adjusted.]
The words landed harder than any punishment.
Deep beneath the city, Lucas slammed a fist into the terminal.
"They're cutting him off," he said.
Hana leaned over the data feed, eyes sharp. "No. They're testing what happens without him."
Lucas swallowed. "That's insane."
Hana shook her head. "No. That's preparation."
Aiden began feeling the pressure immediately.
Not pain.
Weight.
The Fragment strained against unseen constraints. Power pooled where it wasn't meant to. The system wasn't just suppressing emotion anymore.
It was containing potential.
[Output Limiter: Reinforced.]
Aiden closed his eyes.
If he pushed now.
Everything would break.
The message came through the only channel not yet locked.
Not text.
Memory.
A flash of coordinates. A voice layered beneath system noise.
If you can hear this… don't act yet.
Lucas.
Aiden froze.
The system reacted a heartbeat too late.
[Cognitive Intrusion Detected.]
Aiden allowed the suppression to take hold.
Allowed the smoothing.
Allowed the system to believe it had won.
The message faded.
But the coordinates remained.
Later, Marcus Hale reviewed the data with satisfaction.
"Lockdown success rate is within projections," he said. "The Anomaly is compliant."
The director hesitated. "And if he isn't?"
Marcus looked up, eyes cold.
"Then the system will do what it was always meant to do."
Aiden stood alone in containment, hands trembling just slightly.
He stared at nothing.
Thought of nothing.
Let the system read emptiness.
Behind that emptiness, he held the coordinates like a shard of glass.
Careful.
Hidden.
Dangerous.
The world outside grew louder gates flaring unchecked, Rankers scrambling, response times stretching thin.
The Constant was missing.
And the world was beginning to remember what fear felt like.
Aiden whispered, barely moving his lips, "Not yet."
The system responded instantly.
[Compliance Confirmed.]
It was wrong.