Chapter 9: Infiltrating Sector Eight

The streets of Sector Eight were suffocatingly silent, bathed in a dim haze from the low-hanging lights that buzzed like dying insects. This district sat in the shadows of LUX’s towering platforms—far from the bustling hubs, forgotten by most citizens. Graffiti sprawled along cracked walls, and malfunctioning advertisement panels blinked with half-formed messages.

Ryo, Elena, Aya, and Kalem huddled in a narrow alley, blending into the darkness. Hover transports occasionally drifted by in the distance, their engines humming softly, but otherwise the streets felt abandoned. The air tasted metallic, heavy with static—a subtle reminder that they were nearing the core of the network.

Aya adjusted her gear pack, scanning the sector map on her wrist. "We’re close. The conduit should be beneath the old industrial substation. If Kalem’s right, it’ll take us straight to the core."

Kalem stood silently beside her, arms crossed. Elena hadn’t stopped glaring at him since they arrived. "If," she muttered. "That’s a big ‘if.’"

Kalem shot her a glance, half-amused. "I thought you liked doing things the hard way."

Elena rolled her eyes. "Just know that if you stab us in the back, I’ll shoot you before you hit the ground."

Kalem smirked. "Noted."

Ryo, crouched near the alley's entrance, ignored their exchange. His focus was on the relay station in the distance—a blocky, reinforced structure guarded by two patrolling drones and an automated defense grid. Every second counted now.

"The guards change every ten minutes," Ryo whispered, his voice calm despite the tension in his chest. "We move during the next shift—disable the defenses, get into the conduit, and hit the core before the synchronization completes."

Aya leaned closer, her expression sharp. "How much time do we have?"

Ryo checked his interface. "Two hours, fifty-six minutes."

Elena sighed. "Plenty of time for things to go horribly wrong."

They crept along the perimeter of the sector, staying low to avoid the drone cameras sweeping the streets. The relay station loomed ahead, a squat fortress surrounded by rusted pipes and overgrown weeds—a stark contrast to the polished skyscrapers above.

Aya crouched beside the security grid, her fingers dancing across a portable hacking console. "This won’t take long."

Kalem stood a few feet away, watching the street with a tense stillness. He had the unsettling calm of someone who’d spent too many years surviving in places like this.

"Ever wonder why people stopped coming here?" he asked quietly, without looking at anyone in particular.

Elena scoffed. "They probably figured out it wasn’t worth the trouble."

Kalem shook his head. "It’s not just neglect. Places like this—places the network abandoned—don’t stay abandoned by accident. They keep people away on purpose. Make them forget."

Aya glanced up from her console, frowning. "You mean they wipe memories?"

"Not quite." Kalem’s voice was soft, almost contemplative. "The network doesn’t need to erase memories to keep control. It just numbs them—makes people stop caring. Apathy spreads faster than fear."

Ryo swallowed hard, a knot tightening in his chest. The real danger wasn’t just erasing emotions. It was creating a world where people didn’t even notice they were gone.

Aya’s console beeped, snapping him from his thoughts. "We’re in," she whispered, a hint of satisfaction in her voice.

The grid shimmered for a moment before deactivating. "Defense system’s down. Drones won’t see us coming."

"Good," Ryo murmured, slipping through the gate with the others close behind. "Let’s move."

The team reached the substation without incident, slipping through rusted service doors that groaned under years of neglect. Inside, the walls were lined with faded control panels, their screens flickering weakly with old readouts. The hum of machinery vibrated beneath their feet, a reminder that some part of the network had never stopped running.

Aya tapped her console, syncing with the station’s old systems. "There’s a service tunnel behind that wall," she said, pointing to a sealed hatch covered in grime. "It leads straight to the core."

Ryo stepped forward, prying the hatch open with a grunt. A narrow, cylindrical tunnel stretched into the darkness below, illuminated only by dim maintenance lights spaced unevenly along the walls.

"Well," Elena muttered, peering into the tunnel. "This doesn’t scream 'death trap' at all."

Kalem gave her a crooked grin. "If it makes you feel better, I’ve seen worse."

"It doesn’t," Elena replied flatly.

Without another word, Ryo slid into the tunnel, gripping the metal rungs as he descended. The others followed, their footsteps echoing faintly in the confined space.

The air in the tunnel was stale, thick with dust and the scent of coolant. Pipes ran along the walls, hissing softly with every shift in pressure. The further they descended, the louder the hum of the network became—a deep, thrumming pulse that seemed to resonate through the walls and into their bones.

Ryo’s grip tightened on the rungs. This was the heart of the machine. Everything—the emotional suppression, the synchronization, the override—began here. And if they failed to stop it, the entire city would fall back under its control.

Aya’s voice crackled over the comm. "We’re almost there. Another thirty meters."

Elena muttered something under her breath, but Ryo didn’t catch it. His mind was focused entirely on the task ahead.

The tunnel ended abruptly at a large steel door, rusted but still intact. Ryo pressed his ear against it, listening for any sounds beyond.

Nothing.

He gave a sharp nod. "We breach on three."

Aya pulled a small explosive from her pack and planted it along the edges of the door. The others took cover behind a curve in the tunnel as she triggered the detonator.

"Three... two... one."

The door blew inward with a deafening boom, sending dust and debris cascading through the tunnel. Ryo surged forward through the smoke, weapon drawn, scanning for threats.

The smoke cleared to reveal a massive chamber lined with glowing conduits and humming terminals. In the center of the room stood a towering structure—the core—a crystalline pillar surrounded by cables and data streams. It pulsed with a rhythmic glow, like a heartbeat.

Aya’s breath caught in her throat. "It’s already running."

Kalem swore softly. "We’re out of time."

Ryo’s heart pounded as he approached the core, scanning the surrounding consoles. The synchronization sequence was displayed across every screen—a countdown ticking away the last two hours and forty-three minutes.

"If we disable it now," Aya whispered, "it’ll shut down the whole network. No backup, no reboot."

"But if we mess up..." Elena began, her voice trailing off.

Kalem finished the thought grimly. "The system will lock us out—and everything will stay online forever."