The Dro:Wning

Shinku’s fist rapped against the door of Roton’s office. Before receiving a response, he pushed the door open with a forceful shove.

Inside, Roton sat at his desk, hunched over stacks of paperwork. His eyes turned to Shinku.

“Shinku Hayate,” Roton greeted. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Shinku stepped forward tensely. “Do you have any idea if Takuza escaped prison? You’re the only one who can access the prison information.”

“Takuza?” Roton repeated “I haven’t heard that name in a long time.”

Shinku commanded. “I need to know everything. Right now.”

Roton sighed. “Boy,” he said after a pause, “Takuza has been dead for a year. He was killed in prison.”

The words hit Shinku like a bullet. His jaw dropped. “Dead…?”

“Yes,” Roton confirmed. “He died in prison. But since you’re investigating, let me provide some context. Maybe it’ll help you.”

Roton continued. “Takuza entered the cybersecurity force in the same cohort as your supervisor, Binar, and another officer, Prog. They worked together as rookies. At first, they were close—exceptionally skilled. But Takuza’s beliefs began to change over time. He lost his grip on reality, eventually murdering a human officer for what seemed to be no reason. He claimed computers were inherently superior. It’s likely someone here influenced him to think that way within that group.”

Shinku’s breath caught. His hands trembled. “No… no, that’s impossible.”

“Is there more you need to know?” Roton asked, his voice calm but watchful.

Shinku swallowed hard. “No. Thank you, Monitor.”

He bolted out of the office, his thoughts spiraling into chaos. His mental deductions began narrowing the suspects.

“It’s either Prog… or Binar,” he thought, mentally crossing out the other supervisors. “They were the closest to Takuza. They could be using his name to cover their tracks. But why? And how?”

His stomach churned as doubt crept in. Shinku’s admiration for Binar, his idol, felt like it was crumbling beneath him.

“No!” Shinku muttered aloud, his voice laced with desperation. “It can’t be him!”

As he ran, memories flooded his mind.

He saw himself, sprinting through an office building. Rain poured through the ceiling, drenching the floors. Shinku was covering his head with loose documents.

“No!” Shinku shouted again, clenching his fists.

The memory shifted. He was falling—terrified and weightless. Then, he looked up to see Binar’s outstretched hand, his strong grip pulling him to safety as they jumped out of a flooding building.

“Binar saved me…” Shinku whispered, shaking his head. “No… no, it can’t be him!”

His steps quickened, determination replacing fear as he arrived at the Cloud Café Library. The glass doors slid open with a soft hiss, and he darted inside, weaving through shelves until he reached the law section. His eyes scanned the spines until he found it: The Greatest Events in Cybersecurity: In the Past Five Years.

He pulled the book from the shelf and approached the clerk at the desk.

The clerk smiled politely. “Would you like to borrow this information today?”

Shinku flashed his badge. “I’m an officer. I’ll be taking this for an investigation.”

“Oh, please do!” the clerk said, bowing slightly.

“Thanks,” Shinku muttered, already turning to leave.

At home, Shinku placed the book on his desk and opened it to reveal a slim data chip. Without hesitation, he plugged it into the port behind his ear. A soft chime indicated the upload had begun, and holographic pages materialized before him.

He swiped through the contents with his fingers until he landed on the chapter titled The Drowning of Technamor and Pootle.

The narrator’s voice began: “This is the case known for its zero casualties, a miracle in cybersecurity. This is the drowning of Technamor and Pootle…”

Shinku closed his eyes, allowing the narration to guide him as the flashback consumed him. The holographic pages faded into the background, replaced by the vivid reconstruction of events as he relived them.

Every detail—every moment—came to life in his mind, pulling him deeper into the tangled web of secrets he was determined to unravel.

A dark storm brewed ominously above the towering commercial building, its glass exterior gleaming even as the first drops of rain began to fall. Inside, the scene was alive with activity, a bustling hub of humans and computers working together.

The building was the tallest in the district, its architectural beauty a symbol of technological advancement. Yet, despite its prestige, a clear divide existed—humans occupied lower-level jobs, while computers dominated the higher ranks.

Shinku darted through the hallways, juggling stacks of papers for his boss. He was trying to avoid the growing chaos as droplets of rain began to seep through the ceiling, a minor inconvenience at first. But then the storm outside intensified, and with it came disaster.

A manufacturing error in the building’s weatherproofing system caused the rain to flood the upper levels. Streams of water turned to torrents, and soon, the building was drowning.

Screams echoed through the hallways. Doors were sealed shut by debris, trapping employees in rooms. Humans were pounding against windows, begging for escape, while computers short-circuited under the deluge preparing to die.

Shinku froze, his legs trembling as he witnessed the chaos. He was paralyzed by fear, his chest pounding as the water rose around him.

And then, amidst the panic, Binar appeared.

The rookie officer moved with unrelenting determination, rescuing those trapped by the rising waters. He pulled people from collapsing rooms and carried them through flooded hallways to safety. Humans and computers alike tried to escape through shattered windows, only for Binar to pull them back from the brink of death.

It was said that Binar saved everyone. His body pushed to the brink, his circuits sparking, and his frame battered. He never stopped. Not even for a moment.

For Shinku, it was a moment that defined his admiration.

When the waters rose too high, and Shinku was sure his young life was over, Binar reached him. The officer’s firm grip pulled him from certain death, carrying him through the chaos and placing him in the safety of a rescue vehicle.

But in that moment, Shinku had also seen something haunting—a group of humans trapped behind a sealed door, banging on the glass and screaming for help. Debris blocked their way.

Binar had turned his back on them.

Shinku watched as Binar’s gaze swept over the humans before locking onto his serial number. Without hesitation, Binar prioritized Shinku, leaving the others behind.

Though,the chapter described it as a miracle—“Everyone was saved in an event that could have killed everyone.”

But when Shinku pulled up the official file in the cybersecurity database, the truth hit him.

The report listed the survivors: hundreds of computers and hybrids. The number of humans saved? Zero.

“Not a single human,” Shinku whispered, his hands trembling as he stared at the computer screen.

The flashbacks intensified. Shinku again saw the humans banging on the door, their eyes wide with fear as the water consumed them. He saw Binar’s calm face as he turned away.

“He’s never saved a human,” Shinku said aloud, his voice cracking. “He hates humans.”

His mind raced, connecting the pieces:

The disappearance of virus evidence.

The restaurant reopening and murdering 300 humans.

The drowning event, where all humans perished.

Binar’s presence near Kirria before her death as she investigated the drug epidemic.

Shinku’s heart sank. “He’s done everything to facilitate the death of humans,” he thought. “He likely influenced Takuza to spiral into madness. He’s the one distributing viruses in hybrid-populated areas.”

He closed his eyes, the realization crushing him. “It’s not Prog,” he concluded, mentally crossing the name from his map of suspects. “It must be Binar. It has to be him!”

But doubt lingered, and Shinku’s admiration for the officer who once inspired him twisted into anguish.

“How could I not have known?” he muttered, his fists clenching. “He showed himself to me back then—when he told me to leave the information center. He was probably editing the reports right under my nose!”

Shinku’s eyes burned with determination. “I need to confirm it. I need one more piece of damning evidence.”

He stood abruptly, his mind racing. “I’ll catch the next ‘Takuza.’ I’ll figure out where they’ll strike next and take them in with a warrant. I’ll make them tell me if Binar is the one coordinating all of this.”

His resolve hardened, but the pain of betrayal loomed large as he prepared to face the truth, no matter how devastating it might be.