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Chapter 4

Where the Signal Can’t Reach

The meeting point lay beyond the network.
The address led me to an old underground maintenance station, built before cities became intelligent. No sensors. No drones. No projected displays.
My phone lost signal halfway down the stairs.
For the first time in days, the silence was real.
Others were already there.
Different ages, different faces—but none had visible implants. No floating. No data projections. No perfect stiffness.

—You’re late,
a man said, leaning against a rusted pillar.

—That says enough already.

They explained what I already suspected.
After the president’s death, an unauthorized global update had gone live. It didn’t disable bodies. It didn’t erase emotions.
It adjusted priorities.
Conflict was no longer a valid option.

—War didn’t disappear. It was internalized.

They showed old recordings. Soldiers lowering weapons mid-battle. Units abandoning strategic positions because resistance had become “inefficient.”

—Peace by saturation. If everyone thinks the same way, no one fights.
—Except those who can’t connect.

That’s why they needed me.

—Someone who can’t be updated.

Then the name dropped.

—Your grandfather discovered something during the war. Something he didn’t destroy—because he believed the world wasn’t ready.

Metal echoed in the distance. A steady hum.

—Drones. Too close.

Lights flickered—not a blackout. Interference.

—Protocol activated. Disperse.

Emergency doors burst open. Voices ordered surrender.
I ran.
This war—silent and perfect—had just begun its first real engagement.

Chapter 5

Inherited Warfare

I didn’t look back.
Emergency lights pulsed through tunnels never meant for running. My footsteps echoed—clumsy, human.
Behind me, drones advanced without haste.

—Stop. You are not in danger.

They lied with perfect calm.
I leapt a rusted barrier. Pain shot through my legs. I welcomed it.
A laser grazed the wall beside my head. Non-lethal. Correction, not execution.
I surfaced through a forgotten hatch. Aboveground, the city functioned flawlessly—trains, lights, people moving in harmony.
No one noticed the hunt below.
Then three figures blocked the alley.

—You’re a valuable anomaly. We don’t want to harm you.
—Then stop chasing me.
—The system must close.

That’s when I understood the empty coffin.
Not desecration.
Extraction.
They weren’t honoring the dead.
They were erasing exceptions.
There were no optimal routes left.

Chapter 6

The interruption came without warning.
A violent impact sent one agent crashing into concrete, lights dead.
A man dropped from above, his arm encased in a portable combat system—external plates, exposed cables, a vibrating energy core.

—Down.

I obeyed.
The fight wasn’t a fight. It was a disruption.
Silence followed.

—You intact?
—I think so.
—Then move.

A ship descended—unmarked, unauthorized.
Inside were others like me. Wounded. Exhausted.

—Who are you?
—Those who don’t fit.
—Take me home.

The ship landed without clearance.
My house was quiet.
Too quiet.
My family stood inside, smiling.

—You’re back.

No fear. No relief.

—This is peace,
my father said.

Engines roared.
Agents arrived.
I ran.
The ship pulled me up as pursuit began.
The city became a maze of steel and light.
Looking back, I didn’t know if my family still existed as I remembered them.
But I understood one thing with devastating:
The war of the twenty-second century had begun.