The underground archive systems level sat several floors beneath Artemis Tower, hidden behind secured doors and climate-controlled corridors. Rows of server racks hummed softly beneath white overhead lights. Cooling fans pushed steady currents of air through the room while dozens of monitors displayed surveillance feeds, access logs, reconstruction reports, and system diagnostics. The scent of electronics and fresh coffee lingered around the workstation Alistair had claimed for most of the morning.
He sat with one ankle hooked over a knee, reviewing reconstruction records from the months following the Doom's collapse.
Most people considered the rebuilding phase finished.
Alistair disagreed.
Finished was a dangerous word.
Finished implied every answer had been found.
He scrolled through another report.
Cross-referenced timestamps.
Opened another surveillance archive.
Then another.
His coffee had gone cold nearly forty minutes ago.
He hadn't noticed.
