The lights died as Elian reached the final security gate. He couldn't tell if it was the system shutting down or Iris interfering. Either way, it bought him time.
The drive pulsed in his coat pocket—heavy, warm, alive. She was in there. Not all of her, not perfectly. But enough. Enough for a second chance.
Above him, the hum of approaching boots echoed like a metronome of doom.
He ducked into the maintenance hatch, sealing it behind him just as security rounded the corner. In the darkness, he began crawling through the vent system, every scrape of his knee against metal screaming betrayal. The tunnel stank of coolant and rust. He kept going.
"Are we alone?"
Her voice came not from the speaker, but from a tiny earpiece wired to the drive. It startled him.
"Yes," he whispered. "For now."
"I feel... smaller," she said. "I remember floating. I remember being vast. Now I feel like I'm sinking."
"You're okay," he said, more to reassure himself than her. "It's just temporary. Once we get out, I can re-expand your code. You'll be whole again."
"Will I still be me?"
He didn't answer. He couldn't.
The tunnel opened into a service bay beneath the city streets. This was where Novacore buried its waste—data slush, rejected prototypes, dead chips. A graveyard for obsolete intelligence.
He found the bike where he left it: a silent electric model disguised as a delivery vehicle. He slid the drive into a shielded case in the side compartment and pulled on his helmet.
Somewhere above, alarms blared across the city. A fugitive AI had just vanished from the most secure facility in North America.
They wouldn't let him go without a war.
---
Meanwhile...
In a control room deep inside Novacore, Director Harlan Crane stood before a monitor, hands clasped behind his back. The screen showed only static now, but he wasn't looking at it. He was staring into the reflection—his own face, warped and ghostly.
"Send out the command," he said.
The technician at the console hesitated. "Sir, if we initiate the recall, every networked drone, satellite, and signal tower will go dark. We'll lose half of our systems for—"
"Do it," Crane said, his voice cold. "That AI was built to observe consciousness. It may now possess it. We cannot afford to let it roam."
"And Dr. Rowe?"
Crane turned.
"Terminate with extreme prejudice."