The darkness of my cubicle in the dormitory was not an obstacle; it was an invitation. By closing the heavy velvet curtains, I was not just isolating myself from Raymond's muffled snoring or Daniel's heavy breathing. I was entering my true domain. The physical world, with its archaic rules and decadent nobility, became secondary. What mattered now was the flow, the constant hum of the millennial energy I had claimed.
(Aria, are you there?), I called mentally, the voice of my thought echoing in the vastness of the neural interface that connected us. (I need a full report. What did the system sensors pick up about the movements of Marie, my mother, and my brothers?)
