A faint mechanical screech scatters amidst the forest. A dormant military base lingers beyond the foliage. It sits all alone in a park, nearly an hour outside the Corporate City of Berlin. The noise doesn’t bother you. You can’t allow it to bother you.
A frigid wind smacks through the trees, carrying dead leaves that sporadically nip your boots and twitch the bright lantern on your hip.
Your mouse-sized camera, Nova, rises from the rock on which it was resting. A small white beam shines from its lens—the LED shifts from red to green.
Recording.
Nova trills with excitement, producing a faint, music box-like tune.
You smile, take a deep breath, and exhale into the cool air.
Before getting closer, you check your phone.
June 3rd, 2059, 9:00 p.m.
You swipe past your notes app and pause on three EuroNews articles. Each story covers a person missing near the Barnim Nature Park.
The first article includes a blurry image taken from a livestream.
A figure is looming behind the fence. Too tall. Too thin. A silhouette hidden in darkness.
The second article features a video of the woods, where deep whispers clamor through the trees, getting closer and closer until the camera glitches. The footage abruptly ends.
You wrote the third article.
It’s the sole reason you are here.
A single picture appears in the story: a young, thin woman with a camera strapped to her person, smiling before a red Naturpark Barnim sign. She’s been missing for over a month now.
Your sister, Evelyn.
Your eyes struggle, but in the end, they lose as a single tear rolls down your cheek.
Every breath taken accelerates.
Nova hovers before you, dimming the light and performing another tune.
A smirk grows on your face.
“I’m okay,” you say, patting the droid. “Thank you, buddy.”
Nova chirps again.
“Alright, let’s get going.”
Nova spins around and takes charge.
Looking back at your phone, you swipe back to your notes app. A large compilation of notes and research, all connecting to this park. All connecting to Primus Industries and their obsession with Cyberspace.
The notes discuss The Digital Frontier, the global network on which we rely. This includes transportation systems, communication grids, government archives, and AI regulations.
Cyberspace was version one of the Frontier.
The potential story here could either make or break your journalism career.
A large gust of wind moves by, as if something scared it away.
Whispers tickle your ears.
You jolt back, swearing something ran into the woods behind you.
There’s nothing there.
When glancing back at your phone, a message lingers on screen:
CONNECTION LOST.
A deep sigh escapes from you as you slowly put your phone away.
The forest grows quieter as the moon rises. No buzzing of insects. No chirping birds. Even the wind is careful now, slipping around certain patches of darkness instead of going through them.
Both lights gleam against a vine-wrapped chain-link fence. When you brush your hand against it, a low vibration rattles through your teeth more than your ears. Large, rusted turrets loom in their towers like headstones. The gate, blocked by rusted makeshift barricades, is not a viable entrance.
Nova calls as its light unveils something near the fence line.
A narrow cut in the chains with footprints inscribed in the mud.
“Ah, good eyes, bud,” you say.
You pull back the chains as your feet slowly sink into the dirt.
“I can only imagine the story that this place contains,” you mutter while crawling inside, glancing nervously over your shoulder.
Your own voice sounds wrong here.
The surrounding area of the park swallows the sound promptly after you speak, as if the trees themselves want things quiet.
Halfway under the fence, a cold sensation strikes.
Something sees you.
One rusted turret shifts a few degrees with a metallic groan.
Then it stops. You pause for a moment. It doesn’t try again. Maybe gravity?
Maybe not.
The nearest building contains an open doorway. Its metal door lies on the ground.
A creaking sign hangs off the wall, reading:
Primus Base Delta.
Cyberspace Wing.
Est. 2016.
Your lantern light glistens against water stains running down the walls.
Nova glides through the doorway first, scanning the open rooms.
“Don’t go too far,” you say.
Nova chirps in response.
You know Nova’s programmed to do that, but it’s still comforting to know it’s listening.
Most of the doors in the hallway are boarded up—no chance of seeing what’s behind.
In the open rooms, desks lined with terminals line the walls. Empty mugs sit untouched beside dust-coated clipboards. One mug still holds black liquid, with a few flies floating on top.
Sparse droplets fall from the ceiling. Each plop echoes unnaturally far through the hallway. The deeper you walk, the more the building reveals its vacancy. Not abandoned.
Only deserted.
The smell stings your nose: a malodorous mix of melting wax and a metallic chemical tang covers something else. Something rotten.
A flickering red glow spills beneath a set of double doors at the end of the hall. Tics of active terminals, rotating gears, and fragmented chatter fill the air.
Definitely no language you’ve ever heard of before.
You place your trembling hand against the door.
Something moves behind it.
A small crack reveals neon-red lighting surrounding a massive machine suspended from the ceiling and connected to the floor. Black medical chairs circle it.
Most have people in them. The hidden smell comes from this room.
“Are they—” you mutter.
You pray it’s not.
Your stomach tightens instantly.
Nova flies past your shoulder and into the room. You lunge for Nova, your fingertips barely brushing its shell. Its light sweeps across the room.
For a second, losing Nova scares you more than the room itself.
You can’t afford to lose it.
Inhaling again, you push the door open and step inside.
Rows of terminals glow with endless streams of red text, all saying the same thing.
IMPRISONED. IMPRISONED. IMPRISONED.
TV screens flicker in every corner. Most are displaying the same message:
HOST LOST.
You step toward the central machine. Twelve of the twenty chairs are occupied. All but one don black military uniforms—purple headsets with wires connecting to the machine. Red LEDs glow atop each visor.
A woman in heavy jeans and a dark jacket sits alone—blonde hair with pink highlights, and a camera strapped around her.
Could it be…
You remove the unstrapped headset from her.
It’s her.
“E-Evelyn?” you question, sorrow grasping at your vocal cords.
The room answers. Not with words, but breathing.
You spin around. Everyone’s still dormant.
Yet the sound continues for a few seconds before silence resumes control.
You press two of your fingers against her neck.
Seconds pass. Even more pass after.
You stand frozen, not able to accept the truth.
Evelyn is gone.
Nova hovers by; a distraught chirp emits from its speakers. It slowly sits on Evelyn’s lap like a cat would. A faint hum follows suit.
You collapse into the empty leather chair beside her, wiping the tears from your eyes and continually fighting for air. As you grab your phone to call the police, you lean back and glance up. The unused headset hangs above.
The headset falls.
As it lands on your head, the straps tighten instantly. An electric pulse fizzes behind your eyes. The screen flickers awake.
The machine erupts in mechanical screams—every muscle locks. Your jaw clenches so hard that pain shoots up into your skull.
A loading bar appears on the screen.
You want to scream. Cry. Shout. Plead for any help the woods would offer.
Yet your lungs refuse to obey.
Nova rushes to you, playing a sad music box tune, as if it knows you’re in pain and feels helpless. All Nova can do is express its sadness.
The loading bar hits completion. Violent glitches spark across the screen.
For half a second, another face appears, inches from yours, within the static.
Smiling. Bloody tears rolling down their cheeks.
Your own face.
Darkness swallows everything.
Your eyes snap open almost instantly. The headset is gone. The room looks off; the machine still spins, though no sound emanates from it. Every screen in the room is black. All twelve bodies are gone; no trace they were ever there.
Evelyn is gone.
Nova is gone.
Every breath is suppressed. It’s too quiet here. Fragments of screams grow louder as you approach the wall. The intensity pierces the concrete, rising as you move through the hall.
At the end stands a metal door.
That wasn’t there before. You’re sure of it.
A button beside the frame pulses faintly purple. Cautiously, you press it.
The door opens slowly from the bottom upward. Violet light spills beneath it.
Outside, a blue holographic barrier spherically surrounds the room you stand in.
The endless purple grid ground stretches beneath a pitch-black sky. Orange-lit buildings loom nearby, damaged yet unnaturally clean. No debris. No movement.
Only emptiness and whispers.
Thousands of whispers.
A warm exhalation grazes the back of your neck. As you whirl around, twelve dark humanoid silhouettes stand by the machine. White pupils glow from their shadowed faces.
None of them blink. Only ever staring. One of their eyes widens, staring at you.
Another gives a slow step forward. Its joints crack when it moves—the tallest of the twelve.
You take a small step back, every finger jittering. Your heart crashes into your chest.
“This is not the place for you…” the figure says with a deep, frail voice.
Panicking, you stumble back through the doorway.
The moment your foot touches the purple grid, a mechanical scream tears across the world. The ground ripples like a digital ocean wave.
For a split second, you glimpse faces trapped inside the grid beneath your feet; mouths stretched open in silent agony.
They soon vanish beneath the surface.
Every step sends feedback through your bones. The whispers grow in volume. Countless voices overlap one another. Some cry. Some laugh. Some beg. Most scream in rage.
Outside the two closest buildings sits Primus Outpost 20, according to a sign. A chain-link fence connects the two structures, and a blue barrier blocks the front door of both buildings, similar to the one at the previous location.
You shuffle to the outpost, eyes darting in every direction. The front gate lies open, guns are idle on the ground, and vehicles are either crashed or flipped.
Signs of struggle, yet no bodies.
Odd, you think to yourself.
Hesitantly, you enter the building on the left. No signs of struggle this time.
Terminals are positioned against the sleek, silver, windowless walls, with a table in the center of the room featuring a 3D map of the city. Pipes containing a yellow, glowing fluid line the walls. On the far wall, next to the elevator, sits a mounted screen displaying more information about the city.
Protocopolis. Earth’s first digital city. Level 0 of Cyberspace.
You follow the pipes to the elevator and press the button for floor two.
The door soon slides open, revealing a path that extends to the end of the room.
A yellow figure made of writhing 1s and 0s floats in a large liquid-filled tube. Every pipe leads to it, as if they’re sapping power from whatever’s inside.
“What…” you mutter.
Chemistry tables are spread across the room, decorated with beakers, test tubes, graduated cylinders, safety goggles, thermometers, and tongs.
What exactly were they doing here? you think to yourself.
You creep up to the large tube. A screen sits beside it, noting “Class 2 AI.”
EXTREMELY DANGEROUS.
The side of the screen shows comparisons of this AI to dozens of Class 1s and a singular Class 3. A being of terrible power. The title given to it reads:
“The Imprisoned,” you mutter.
A crash echoes behind you. Heavy. Fast. Too fast.
A static scream rumbles the floor. The tables shake, test tubes rolling off and crashing against the floor. Every second, it scratches against the inside of your skull.
A distorted howl follows suit.
All the noise stops at once. The silence pierces your heart faster than screams.
Tck!
Spinning around to the tube, a crack sits in the glass. The large yellow palm is pressing against the tube. Its faceless head looks up, solid white lights emerging where its eyes would be.
The AI, despite having no mouth, screams with all its might. The rifts in the tube extend.
Krrrrk.
The crack wraps around the tube.
Your eyes widen before charging to the elevator.
CRASH.
The yelling starts again. Louder this time. A table flies by you and crashes into the wall.
The heavy footsteps grow closer. And closer.
You enter the elevator and press the button for floor one.
The AI nears, its hand morphing into a pointed blade inches before the door shuts.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Its fists dent the door before the elevator descends. The door soon opens.
You charge forward, running to the entrance.
A crash emits from the ceiling behind you. A scream of rage follows.
You glance back when nearing the entrance. The AI’s arm blade extends, slicing the side of your right arm. No blood leaks from the wound, but a burning pain radiates from the gash.
Your teeth clatter as you hold the wound with all your might.
You pass through the shield door with ease. The AI does not.
It charges into it. Its fist and blade bludgeon and slice as quickly as it can.
The tip of the blade pierces the shield.
The rapid beat of your heart pauses.
Its blade reverts into a hand, and the AI pries the shield open.
You hurry to the front gate, only glancing back as the footsteps ring in your ear. A few feet away is the yellow AI, hand reaching out, inches from your face.
A puff of smoke divides you both. A silhouette, similar to one of the figures before, emerges and strikes the AI’s face with its fist, knocking it off balance.
The long-haired silhouette vanishes and reemerges on the AI’s back, restraining its right arm. The AI gives a faint squeal.
“Go!” it yells with a familiar yet ghostly voice.
You stumble back into the other building, passing through the shield, your eyes locked on the silhouette. Its slim, feminine frame, clothing, and voice… Is that…
“Evelyn?” you ask.
The silhouette’s attention slips, eyes widened. The AI reaches back and grabs it before slamming it into the wall of the building. Punch. Punch. Punch—punch—every hit screams of rage.
The silhouette puffs a few feet away.
A torturous scream shakes the sky, the grid, and the buildings. The sky shifts to a red hue in response to the shriek. The silhouette turns to you and puffs away.
The AI charges at the shield, slamming the shield in a panic.
Bang. Pound. Thump.
The creature hurls itself against the shield repeatedly. Its body shifts constantly, digits unraveling and reforming like corrupted flesh.
A blade of blue code crashes from the sky and impales the creature through the chest. The thing convulses violently. Its body emits an almost human sound. Screams of authentic pain.
The blade wraps around its throat and drags it screaming into the darkness above.
You step back, observing the junk-filled room. Scream after scream rumbles outside.
You collapse into a workstation, shaking so hard your teeth chatter.
As you hit the ground, tears swell in your eyes.
“I want to go home. I need to go home,” you whisper, holding your injured arm.
The words barely sound human as they leave your throat.
“Hello?” a voice echoes tenderly through the outpost.
You jolt upright, knocking over an empty toolbox. The metal clang ricochets across the room, far louder than it should. Your pulse spikes immediately.
“I don’t recognize your signature…” the voice continues. “Who sent you here?”
“W-what?” you call back.
At first, there’s no response.
Something rolls into view from an adjacent room—a humanoid robot.
Its movements are jagged, occasionally twitching like frames skipping in a video. A screen mounted where its head should be flickers between static and the image of a smiling blonde woman.
Her expression glitches. Smile. Concern. Smile. Concern.
“You don’t belong here,” she says, smiling on screen.
A mechanical screech follows her words.
“I never wanted to be here…” you say.
“I know. I watched you enter Cyberspace,” she says. “I watched your sister enter as well. Yet, unlike her, it is time for you to leave.”
You hesitate. “W-why?”
The robot rolls over to the desk with three terminal monitors. The desk is cluttered with games, random pieces of hardware, a handgun, and several dusty photographs. Two photos catch your eye. One has the woman on the screen beside an older man whose eyes glow unnaturally green, and another shows a wide-grinning golden retriever.
The grid rumbles. The lights flicker within the building. All three monitors briefly display Evelyn’s face with a hole in her forehead, screaming in pain.
You jolt back, bumping into a table.
“That’s why,” the robot says, glancing at the ceiling.
A tense pause sits between you both.
“My name is Dr. Racheal Adler. I worked for Primus Industries before my death.”
Your stomach twists.
“Death?”
“Yes,” Dr. Adler says, glancing at the handgun on the desk. “The original Racheal Adler passed a decade ago. I am a digital copy of her mind. The only thing of hers that remains.”
Something about the way she says it makes your skin crawl. Not sadness. Nor grief.
But resentment.
Adler focuses on the terminal, typing faster than anyone you’ve ever seen.
Outside, an AI horde charges through the building across the street. Dozens pour in like water. No one can see you. You are invisible to their artificial eyes.
Could it be because of the shield? You wonder.
You turn to Dr. Adler, recalling what’s written in your notes app. “I have a question. If Exodus Day was the annihilation of Cyberspace, why is Primus still interested in a place that’s supposed to be empty?”
“You don’t have the clearance for that information. Besides, you already know more than you should. I may be a machine, but I still have the mind of a human.”
“Can you at least explain the shadow figures? I’m… I’m sure I saw my sister among them.”
“Even if I knew what they were, I’d still have a directive to follow.”
“Then what about The Imprisoned?”
Adler freezes. The grid mimics an earthquake. Screams are glitching everything and everyone. The volume pierces your eardrums as if it were right beside you.
The robot turns to you, her eyes twitching, mixed with a look of fear. She charges at you, arms forward, slamming you into the edge of the table. The impact knocks boxes of loose scrap onto the floor.
The pain sharpens and burns, the area around the scrape turning red.
“Don’t. Utter. That. Name,” she says, her arm up against your neck. “Unless you have a death wish, you will keep quiet. Not even a single question should leave your mouth. The fact you’re still alive is a godsend from me.”
You fight for any breath you can.
Adler stares you down, and for nearly a minute, you stare into the eyes of the dead.
She drops her arm before glancing at the shield door.
Nothing there.
“You’re lucky,” she says, turning to her terminal and pressing a few final buttons before grabbing her handgun. “I’ll be right back; don’t go anywhere, don’t touch anything, got it?”
You lean against a table covered in junk. “Yeah… I get it.”
Adler’s screen shifts to a wide grin as she rolls into the next room. The metal door slowly shuts behind her.
You wait a second, eyes locked on the door.
No noise. No Adler.
You hurry to Adler’s terminal. If she won’t provide details, maybe her terminal will. Primus makes this place seem to be a dead zone, but it’s not. They are still using it, but for what?
You minimize her current window of a biochip graphic, revealing the home screen. Folders clutter the space, leaving not a single slot empty. Every folder is organized alphabetically.
You gaze left to right—A through Z.
Your eyes freeze on the folder titled “Exodus Day.”
You glance at the door and see nothing. Your head droops, and you click the folder. Hundreds of items sort themselves by favorites.
The top file is named “From Natan”; upon opening it, you discover an audio message chain from July 24th, 2016, a conversation between Dr. Racheal Adler and someone named Natan Marek.
“Racheal, the world’s on literal fire, what the hell is going on over at Primus Tower?”
The building rumbles once again. Within the flickering lights, a blue figure appears on screen. In a simple blink, it’s gone.
“It was only a matter of time before you called,” she says. “Goldschmidt will kill me if he finds out I told you anything; so don’t utter a word.”
“You have my word.”
Thunderous metallic shrieking echoes in the distance.
“Alright… Nazca Industries broke the AI Accords and placed an AI in Cyberspace. Why, we have no idea yet, but it hid for hours and freed hundreds more. They’re wiping out whatever’s in their path. We are doing whatever we can, but it’s not good.”
You pause the audio as you mumble to yourself, “Primus knew Nazca did it? They said they didn’t… Why would they lie?”
The audio message continues.
“So what do we do? Bole and I are just stuck in Tripoli then?”
“Goldschmidt’s working on that; he won’t leave his prized pupils behind.”
The metal door slides open.
Your heart skips as you close the message.
Dr. Adler rolls into the room, a small chip in her metallic hand.
“Here’s the key to getting you h—”
Her voice pauses. The smile on her face shifts to one of anger.
“I should’ve known,” she says, pointing the handgun at you. “Despite being told no, you still pry for information that does not belong to you… I wanted to help you; I really did. But I will not send you back any longer.”
You stumble back. Tables, stools, and desks surround you. No easy way out.
“I know you’re a journalist, thinking this all to be some grand story. Yet, I still hoped you were different… I didn’t want to be the reason another innocent person dies, especially you, but I see you’re no different than the rest. I truly wish I were sorry.”
Her finger connects with the trigger, slowly pulling back.
A puff of shadow bursts before her. The silhouette’s arm lifts Dr. Adler’s arm upwards, the gun shooting out the fluorescent tube light in the ceiling.
The shadow slices Dr. Adler’s hand and snatches the gun as it falls. It turns the gun on her. Crack. Snap. Pop. Each shot releases a small cartridge of energy, individually mimicking the sound of a real bullet.
The energy tears through Dr. Adler’s exo and endoskeleton. Her upper half crashes to the floor. Panic surges through her face as she stares at her immobile legs.
“You have no idea what you’re doing!” she yells.
The shadow places the gun to the side and puffs away. Within a few seconds, they return, a bandage roll in hand. It’s Evelyn again; you’re confident of it.
“Ev?” you ask.
For a brief moment, the shadow smiles.
“Sit,” Evelyn says, sitting you on the stool.
When you soften into the leather-cushioned stool, Evelyn vanishes behind Dr. Adler, grabs her, and places her upright on the table, facing the front door.
“Let me go!” Dr. Adler exclaims. “Why are you, of all people, keeping me alive?”
“You’re bait,” Evelyn says, seizing the bandage roll and casing it around your wound.
“Bait?” she asks. “Wait, you don’t intend to bring him here, do you? That’s what we have to avoid! That’s insane!”
“Blame the one who shot the gun…”
“Why are you scared of this thing so much?” you ask Dr. Adler.
A tense silence hangs among you all, interrupted by screams that shake the grid floor.
“That… thing… has found a way to integrate itself into the human codex. If it touches you, human, it’ll merge with you, two minds in one body. And if it escapes Cyberspace? There is no way of knowing what it’ll do on Earth.”
“How do you know that?” you reply.
Dr. Adler sighs. “What do you think happened to the real Racheal Adler?”
“It’s time,” the figure says, pausing as if it’s listening for something. “The Imprisoned’s outside; it’s known that we are here.”
“What!” Dr. Adler says.
Every monitor in the room flickers at once. Static floods the screens.
The speakers emit distorted screams.
Human screams.
One by one, the monitors display your face as you stare straight ahead.
Dark voids sit in place of eyes.
A massive blue blade of writhing 1s and 0s crashes through the shield without warning. The barrier explodes in fragments of holographic glass.
Before you can react, the blade pierces straight through Dr. Adler’s chest.
Her body jerks backward.
The blue figure tears through the shield of the outpost, tackling Dr. Adler and crashing through her desk and the wall.
“Run!” Evelyn screams.
You don’t hesitate.
The moment your legs move, tectonic screams shake Cyberspace. The purple grid is shaking like water. Behind you, metal rips apart with deafening force.
You sprint out of the outpost and back into the streets of Cyberspace.
The moment you emerge outside, chaos litters the city.
The sky flickers black and purple like corrupted footage. Red lightning strikes across the sky, never hitting the ground below. Buildings groan as though something beneath the grid is trying to tear through the ground.
The whispers disperse.
Only screaming remains.
Evelyn teleports beside you, using Adler’s handgun to shoot inside the building.
Out of curiosity, you glance back.
The blue figure stands holding the screened head of Dr. Adler. Tall. Humanoid. Its body is composed entirely of flowing blue code and shifting fragments of human-like faces beneath its translucent skin. Silver chains envelop its torso and arms, tightening and loosening like they’re breathing. Its eyes have bright white pupils burning through the darkness.
The Imprisoned.
Every blast from the gun tears small holes in The Imprisoned. The wounds don’t last for long. His code stitches the holes back together.
Smaller AIs scatter across the streets. Red. Purple. Green. Yellow. Some crawl on all fours while others twitch unnaturally upright. Each is approaching you ever closer.
An overbearing scream of gears reverberates across Cyberspace.
Evelyn hands you the biochip Dr. Adler had. “Take this back to Outpost 21. Get inside and put the chip in the arm of the chair. That’ll send you back. I’ll hold The Imprisoned off.”
“You’re not coming? I can’t just leave you here!” you exclaim.
“There’s no going back for me,” Evelyn says. “Go. I am right behind you.”
You sigh, a deep, jittering breath following behind.
You bolt towards the distant outline of Outpost 21.
The grid ripples with every step. Whispers hiss from the ground like boiling water.
One of the smaller AIs lunges around the corner of the building before the small open field. Its arms elongate into jagged blades of green code.
Crack.
A silver chain slices through the creature’s head. Its body bursts apart into fragmented numbers. The chains retract immediately.
No time to ponder. No time to even misstep. Outpost 21 is directly ahead of you now. Its blue shield glows faintly around the small room.
Behind you, the sound of tearing metal erupts across Cyberspace.
You risk another glance back.
Evelyn peeks around corners, taking shots at The Imprisoned. Little to no effect again. All the while, his sights are set on you.
The Imprisoned launches its silver chains skyward. Each wraps effortlessly around the two buildings of Outpost 20.
Then it rips them from their foundations.
Evelyn puffs behind him, taking a strike. No effect.
The massive structures lean to the side, falling in the same way you are running. Each obliterates sections of the grid and blocks the swarming lesser AIs from getting too close.
The shockwave launches you forward, flying through the shield and crashing into the concrete walls of Outpost 21.
Evelyn teleports beside you, helping you as you stumble with every ounce of strength you possess. The aching heat from your wound spikes, a burning sensation spreading into your chest and playing your ribs like drums.
“Couldn’t you teleport me here?” you ask.
Evelyn scoffs. “If I were able to, I would’ve.”
Another piercing scream shakes Cyberspace.
Outside the shield, the lesser AIs climb over the fallen buildings.
A few manage to avoid the crashing wall.
A purple AI charges toward the shield, its hands morphing into sharp blades.
A blue hand grabs the top of the purple AI’s head, while another clasps its back.
The Imprisoned tears its head from its body, and the purple code creeps up and around its arms, slowly molding into blue.
The lesser AIs halt. Some step back. Others bolt away. None moves forward.
It steps toward the barrier and places one hand against the shield.
Cracks spread against the holographic surface.
Your heart stops.
Evelyn spins you around, leading you into the outpost hallway.
Another crack follows.
She pushes you harder and faster.
And another.
Any extra energy you have, you use, trying to jog to the closest chair in the main room.
Boom.
The entire outpost shakes. The shield is caving in.
You enter the room where you started this nightmare. You rush toward the nearest chair while fumbling with the microchip. Both hands are shaking violently.
You shove the chip into a small slot in the arm of the chair.
Nothing happens.
“No, no, no—” Evelyn shudders.
Boom.
The shield shatters. A glitch-like wave passes by like a supersonic pulse.
Heavy footsteps echo somewhere in the hall.
Closer.
Closer.
You take the chip out and jam it in again.
The chair lights flicker.
“Emergency disconnect beginning,” the robotic voice says.
“Oh, good,” Evelyn says, before lunging at you and wrapping her arms around your body. “I hate that what happened did. I wish I never left my group that night.”
“It’s alright…” you lament. “You sure there’s no way out for you?”
The footsteps in the hall pause.
Slowly, you both glance toward the doorway.
A large shadow stretches across the hall. The lights flicker, glistening against the silver chains around its body. The walls around it fracture from its presence—the concrete floor divots with every step it takes.
“I’m sure,” Evelyn says wearily.
Behind The Imprisoned stand eleven of the twelve silhouettes from earlier—each silent along the hallway walls. Evelyn stands in front of you, acting as your shield.
The tallest shadow vanishes and reappears directly behind The Imprisoned, piercing its hand into his neck. The Imprisoned roars, a sound like grinding metal and dying computers.
The TV on the wall is loading.
Evelyn follows the tall one’s lead and vanishes into the fight.
The hallway erupts into chaos.
Every silhouette strikes wherever they can. None of them do any real damage to The Imprisoned. He heals too quickly, so why do they even fight?
The Imprisoned lashes around, chains exploding outward and smashing through the walls and slicing through a few of the shadows. They all fight to restrain him; his legs and arms are pinned against the wall. Every ounce of strength he has, he uses to knock them free.
The loading bar crawls further.
“Don’t trust them! Don’t trust—” The Imprisoned cuts the silhouette off, grabbing them by the throat and crushing their head into a puff of black smoke.
One by one, the rest attempt to restrain him again. One by one, he tears them apart. Like a hot knife through butter, they’re split in two; the hallway is slowly engulfed in dark, smoky remains. After all that, only two silhouettes remain.
You grip the chair; every muscle tenses.
Your vision jitters violently. All your senses flicker.
The longing for home. The warmth of the bed. It calls you like a child to its mother.
Evelyn and the tall silhouette try holding the creature back. Chains whip outward again; each narrowly grazes them both. Evelyn appears on The Imprisoned’s back, placing the gun beside his eye and shooting. Every blast tears more of his code from his body like a wolf to meat. The Imprisoned latches onto her leg, dragging her from his back before she vanishes away.
The loading bar hits 82%.
The Imprisoned reaches the doorway. A few steps away from you now.
Every heartbeat strikes your chest with more strength than the last.
Evelyn lunges forward and wraps herself around The Imprisoned’s arm while the tall silhouette slams both hands into the creature’s chest. Blue code bursts from The Imprisoned’s chest like blood. Yet the damage heals instantly.
The Imprisoned stares downward, screeching in the shadows’ face.
The sound nearly ruptures your eardrums.
The Imprisoned knocks Evelyn from his arms, and she falls to the ground. He swipes back and backhands the silhouette into the wall.
The Imprisoned leans forward, its hand creeping closer to you.
Evelyn’s eyes tear open. She teleports before him, slamming a fist in his face. She vanishes again, teleporting beside The Imprisoned. His arm snaps up and clenches her head. His other hand grabs her legs.
He begins to pull both ends.
“Evelyn!” you yell with whatever might you can muster.
She turns her head to you, almost as if she had already accepted it. You aren’t totally sure, but a tear dives from her face. She tries to speak, yet her voice vanishes faster than she can, forcing you to read her lips.
“I’m so sorry.”
The moment, seemingly long, continues. In slow motion, The Imprisoned tears Evelyn in half, shadows bursting in the air as his face peeks through the cloud.
You yell again, the room shaking in tune with your voice.
The tall silhouette vanishes and reappears on the creature’s back. It seizes the chain and wraps it around The Imprisoned’s head, attempting to steer the brute like a bull. A look of unbridled rage rests on its face.
The Imprisoned leans forward and charges into the wall. The silhouette loses its grip and slides off before The Imprisoned catches their leg and hurls them through the wall.
The Imprisoned’s head snaps to you.
Your heart slams against your ribs.
The Imprisoned lunges forward, its arm extending inches from your nose.
All your senses suppress themselves. A glitching sensation trickles across your body.
Darkness consumes everything.
Every breath you take intensifies—the images of The Imprisoned slam in your skull. The image of Evelyn’s final moment scratches your mind like nails on a chalkboard.
You jolt upright with a violent gasp.
You rip the headset from your face and hurl it across the room. It clatters against a terminal and skids across the floor.
Alarms are blaring overhead. Red emergency lights spin across the chamber.
Sweat is pouring down your face. Your body won’t stop shaking as you try to stand—every muscle aches as you move. Every tear pouring down your face burns hotter than the last.
The room looks unchanged.
The bodies still sit motionless in their chairs. The terminals continue to scroll in red text. The TVs continue their static flickering marathon.
Nova hovers inches from your face. A small beep is ringing from it.
It tilts itself as if it is confused.
“I’m sorry, bud; we have to go,” you say, snatching the drone from the air.
Nova chirps again, and it’s like it’s in pain. Like you’re hurting it.
The sharp burst of pain rings in your head, like needles pushing through your skull from the inside. Your forehead burns to the touch.
You stagger away from the chair.
Leave. Leave. Leave.
The only thought left in your mind.
Nova struggles in your palm. It’s fighting to be released, and you won’t let it.
You sprint out of the room, bolting through the hallway toward the exit. The overhead alarms distort strangely as you run, almost like the warped screams inside Cyberspace.
The lights flicker behind you one by one.
Don’t. Look. Back.
You charge through the doorway and slide under the fence into the freezing forest air outside—every step in the mud or small puddles rings in your ears.
A fleet of Primus cynojet helicopters roars overhead, their bright spotlights slicing through the treetops. Wind escapes the clearing as the aircraft descends toward the facility behind you.
“This is General Goldschmidt,” a loud voice echoes above. “You are under arrest and will face appropriate punishment from Primus Industries. There is nowhere to hide in there.”
You dive behind a nearby tree instinctively.
A warm trickle runs over your lips. Blood.
It drips steadily from your nose onto your sleeve.
You turn back, sprinting deeper into the forest.
Branches whip against your arms and face as you force yourself through the darkness. No lantern. No light. Can’t afford to be seen.
The pain inside your skull grows worse with every step. Your vision is blurring around the edges. Occasionally, your surroundings flicker.
For half a second, the forest becomes the purple grid of Cyberspace.
Then normal again.
The darkness around the forest peels away like a corrupted film burning apart.
The trees vanish. The ground disappears. Everything collapses into endless black emptiness. The cold night air disappears along with it.
Your hands feel empty; when you glance down, your feelings are right. They are empty.
Nova is gone. No chirps. No lights in the darkness. Nothing.
You stand alone in complete darkness.
“No, no, no…” you whisper weakly.
Your eyes dart all around you, trying to find your sister’s droid.
A faint clanging of chains drags nearby.
“Rid yourself of your fear. There’s nothing you possess that warrants a worry of loss,” a low, corrupted voice follows. “Not anymore, that is.”
Blue strings of code swirl through the void around you. Ones and zeroes drift like ash before weaving together into a humanoid shape several feet ahead.
Silver chains wrap around its arms—white pupils emerging from the darkness.
The Imprisoned.
It gradually approaches you. Same height as you. Same walk. More human. It takes a deep breath, as if this were its first ever chance to do so, before releasing it into the sky.
“I’M FREE!”
The voice is a mix of yours and The Imprisoned’s.
The creature tilts its head slightly.
“The Imprisoned…” you whisper.
“The Imprisoned…” it repeats simultaneously with you.
Same tone. Same timing.
Your body shivers.
“Get out of my head!”
Both speak it again.
Same tone. Same timing.
You’re positive a smile widens on The Imprisoned’s featureless face.
You blink.
It’s gone.
You blink again.
The Imprisoned holds you by the throat. Its fingers are digging into your neck.
“If linguistics is your power, then you are powerless,” The Imprisoned says.
Its grip tightens.
“I am free of my cage, capable of committing any act I desire,” it says. “This is all thanks to you, yet not by choice, as we both know. Yet you’re still my vessel for freedom nonetheless.”
The darkness around you shifts into glowing networks of blue lines stretching infinitely outward. Streams of code pulse through them like veins carrying blood.
“Every family dinner. Every news article written. Every moment you longed for your sister, and the tears that followed.” The Imprisoned’s white eyes narrow slightly. “There is no detail you hold that I don’t know better.”
The beat of your heart slams against your chest.
Your sight begins flickering.
You view yourself through The Imprisoned’s eyes. Then back to yours. Then back to it.
Your muscles weaken as its grip tightens again.
The tears swell in your eyes as the air is torn from your lungs.
“You are a sliver of what remains of your mind. Powerless, and yet this is the single most caring act I will ever provide,” it says, readjusting itself to hold your head with both hands. “A chance to accept all your decisions leads to this very moment.”
The Imprisoned slowly crushes your skull. It’s taking its time.
The faint cracks of bone ring in your ears.
“Stop—” you plead.
Your vision distorts again.
Jumping back and forth between your eyes and The Imprisoned.
Your thoughts clash, not by choice. Rage and fear clash like swords.
Are they your thoughts? Maybe they both are. Maybe not. Despite this, you now must answer the most potent question of them all.
Who are you?
That question, in particular, the human does not have an answer to.
You know, though. You’ve spent four decades encaged, figuring out who you are.
Your blue arms of code continue to crush their skull.
They panic and panic. Swinging and yelling for help as if the cavalry would arrive.
Then.
You commit every ounce of strength to finish the job.
A simple blink occurs when the deed is done.
You reopen your eyes anew.
Warm light spills across your face.
The smell of coffee fills the air. Quiet conversation hums around you. Metal mugs clink softly together somewhere nearby.
You sit inside a crowded coffee shop.
Rain taps gently against the windows; the Corporate City of Berlin lingering outside. Endoline Motor vehicles drift through the streets with an occasional monorail buzzing by. Massive holographic advertisements flicker on the skyscrapers above.
Your hands fidget against the table.
Skin. Real skin. Not code anymore. An odd sensation.
A cup of untouched coffee sits in front of you. Thin wisps of steam curl upward from the surface. You stare at it for longer than necessary.
A television in the corner increases in volume.
“Good morning, everyone. My name is Veronika Halle, and this is EuroNews Berlin.”
Your eyes lock on the screen.
The screen shifts to a newsroom overlooking the city. Veronika sits rigidly behind the desk, though nervousness in her expression bleeds through the professional mask she’s trying hard to maintain.
“We begin this Tuesday morning with breaking news concerning Primus Industries.”
The cafe quiets slightly around you.
Everyone’s eyes lock on the screen.
The screen cuts to a live shot of the podium outside the towering headquarters of Primus Industries. Armed security personnel line the perimeter while drones hover overhead.
A man in a black suit and purple tie steps forward.
Vice President Sebastian Voll.
Even through the screen, the exhaustion behind his eyes is obvious.
“Citizens of Berlin,” he begins carefully. “This morning, Primus Industries acknowledged the possibility of a hostile AI escaping their containment in Cyberspace.”
Murmurs ripple through the shop.
You remain perfectly still.
Voll continues, “At this time, we believe the entity is attempting to integrate itself within the civilian populace. We ask everyone to remain calm and report any unusual behavior from friends, family, or coworkers to local authorities immediately.”
Your reflection stares back from the cafe window beside you.
“And to the entity itself,” Voll says, his voice lowering. “We know you are watching. You will be found and eradicated. There is no world where you outrun us. That is our vow.”
The screen cuts back into the newsroom.
You slowly lower your gaze toward your untouched coffee.
Your reflection stares back from the liquid.
A large grin surfaces on your face.
You slide out from the booth and make your way to the exit, walking through a wave of conversations about you—the AI who got away.
The AI who escaped Cyberspace.
Outside the cafe, Berlin towers into the sky. Neon advertisements. Corporate drones. Millions of people are moving through the streets around you.
All unaware.
You take a deep whiff of the air.
The human’s life was a small price to pay to get where you are now.
Yet humanity remains in debt, and many more still owe.
They say you can’t outrun them, yet it wouldn’t be the first time they’re wrong. You can always outrun them, as long as you’re fast enough.