Above the skyline, neon clouds burned in shades of violet and electric blue streaked with slashes of hot pink that trembled against the growing darkness.
They glowed like fractured circuits, a quiet warning before the storm's first drop.
Down below, the city spread in layers of light and steel. Near the center, spires of glass and alloy shimmered with living colors, with data streams dancing on their surfaces, scrolling advertisements and maps showcasing the pulse of a million lives in motion.
Farther out, older buildings stood patched with glowing panels and humming conduits, their vintage brick softened by lines of blue light.
Magnetic ATVs threaded between the districts, skimming the air with gentle hums. They slipped from stone and steel alike, rising toward the city's heart.
A PTV — long, sleek, white with sharp blue accents cut through the flow of traffic. It washed past carriers and hover-vans with a soft hiss.
The vehicle curved off the main road, following its own path toward a district of humming data towers and glowing structures that looked more like futuristic plants of thought than factories of metal.
The rain's first cold kiss hit the windshield.
Inside, the driver gripped the controls, irritation tightening her shoulders. She pulled into the garden beside a prism-shaped building that twisted silently toward the sky, its surface catching stray neon and bending it into shards of light.
The PTV came to a skidding stop at an odd angle, wheels sinking slightly into the artificial grass.
She muttered under her breath.
The canopy popped open with a soft pneumatic sigh and she lifted off her helmet, burnt auburn hair springing out in a tangle of soft waves.
Her green eyes blinked twice against the sudden evening chill. Petite and quick-moving, she stepped down with a restless energy.
The faintest dimples softened her expression when she frowned.
Her tracksuit was streamlined and matte charcoal, traced with thin luminous seams that pulsed faintly at the wrists and collar. It responded to her movements, adjusting its fit as she stepped down from the vehicle.
She glanced at the sky.
A droplet struck the polished hood of the PTV.
Then another.
They splashed on the fake leaves around her, and on the tiny hologram fish that flickered in place, on the screens displaying system feeds and cheerful slogans no one would read in weather like this.
She didn't bother to look at her crooked parking.
Rushing forward towards the tall doors that stood at the base of a long staircase, she stopped and waved her hand in a swift motion, making an S in the air.
Beep!
Just then the doors slid open with a whisper, displaying the following words:
[ User Lyra Welherth identified. Connecting to the server ]
[ Debugger protocol initiated: Activation 100% ]
And she walked inside, anxious, annoyed, and determined, leaving the neon rain to turn the garden into a blur of color and light.
***
The inside of the building was bright enough to feel artificial.
Soft white light spilled from panels embedded in the ceiling and walls, reflecting off polished floors that looked almost liquid under the glow.
Transparent displays hovered in midair across the wide hall, each one filled with cascading code, shifting graphs, and layered system maps that pulsed with quiet urgency.
People were scattered across the floor. Some stood before floating consoles, fingers flicking through streams of data.
Others sat in semi-circular work pods, tethered to holographic interfaces that wrapped around them like translucent shells.
The low hum of processors vibrated faintly through the floor.
Lyra stepped inside, shaking droplets of rain from her hair as the doors sealed behind her with a whisper.
Her eyes moved quickly, scanning the room.
Left.
Right.
Past a pair of engineers arguing quietly over a projection of tangled code. Past a technician who appeared half-asleep while monitoring a column of scrolling diagnostics.
Then she found him.
Near one of the central displays stood a man wearing a clean white tuxedo jacket over a black undershirt.
His posture was relaxed but precise, the kind that came from someone who had long since grown used to working under pressure.
His raven-black hair was neatly brushed back, though a few stubborn strands had escaped and hung near his forehead.
He moved his hands across a hovering screen, switching between system graphs with fluid motions.
When he raised his arm, the sleeve of his jacket shifted slightly, revealing a mechanical watch on his left wrist. The watch was old-fashioned compared to most wearable tech in the city, its metal gears visible beneath glass, intricate engravings circling the dial.
Lyra's face brightened instantly.
'Ah! I'm on time!'
She jogged across the hall toward him, waving both arms as if he might somehow miss her.
"Sir Ardyn!"
The man glanced sideways. His dark eyes settled on her for a moment before returning calmly to the floating display.
"Oh. Lyra," he said in an even tone. "I thought you were off today."
"Sorry!" she replied quickly, stopping beside him and catching her breath.
"My PTV crashed into a Level Three recursion breach on the way here. But I still made it on time."
She finished proudly, folding her arms with a self-satisfied nod while quietly humming a little tune under her breath.
Ardyn's eyes flicked back to her.
Then back to the display.
"Level Three," he repeated thoughtfully.
His fingers paused over the interface.
"Mind telling me what a recursion breach is again?"
Lyra's confident expression froze instantly.
"U-uhh… that's… well…"
Her eyes drifted toward the ceiling as if the answer might be written there.
"Hmm…"
Silence stretched.
Ardyn finally chuckled softly.
The sound was low and warm, more amused than mocking.
Lyra puffed out her cheeks in frustration. Yet oddly enough, she didn't dislike it.
That was just how Sir Ardyn was.
Despite doing the same exhausting job for almost five years, he somehow managed to stay calm about nearly everything.
Lyra wasn't that much younger than him, but the gap in experience often felt enormous. Sometimes she suspected he secretly followed some perfect health routine.
A regular sleep schedule, a balanced diet and meditation because the man looked as if stress simply bounced off him, even at only twenty-seven.
As a senior analyst and system debugger, Sir Ardyn helped most new recruits adapt to the department.
He rarely spoke much about himself, but whenever someone needed help debugging a system cascade or untangling corrupted code, he was always the first person they looked for.
Lyra leaned closer to the floating display he was working on.
"What are you looking at?"
"System monitoring," he replied. "There's been some unusual behavior in the server loops."
Lyra squinted at the swirling graphs.
"Looks normal to me."
"You aren't even using the debugger protocol to look at it," he said.
She blinked.
"…Is it really necessary to use that thing? I mean… yeah, it's our specialty, but don't other departments also analyze this kind of data without having those fancy built-in system screens in their eyes?"
Before he could answer, a voice interrupted them from behind.
"She was probably busy with something crucial."
The tone was dry.
"Like taking a beauty sleep."
Lyra turned sharply.
Three people had just walked into view from the corridor behind them.
The one who had spoken stepped forward first.
He was tall and lean, wearing a dark grey operations jacket with the department insignia glowing faintly along the collar. His sandy-blond hair was styled with meticulous care, and a pair of thin augmented lenses rested over his eyes.
His expression carried the kind of smirk that suggested he enjoyed irritating people.
Beside him stood a shorter woman with cropped silver hair and a tablet tucked under one arm. Her expression was neutral, though her eyes moved quickly between Lyra and Ardyn as if observing an experiment.
The third person lagged behind them slightly. A broad-shouldered man carrying two steaming cups of coffee, looking mildly confused about why he had been dragged into the conversation.
Lyra's eyes narrowed immediately.
"What are you talking about?"
The blond man smiled faintly.
"About the real reason why you were late," he replied calmly, glancing between them with an amused look. "Looks like I missed the other conversation you guys were having."
Sir Ardyn sighed quietly, pressing his forehead with one hand.
***
"So, Cael… what's the issue?" The blond man spoke, addressing Ardyn.
"The Record Break, Clinton… the Record Break."
Clinton replied. "I mean, we all know about it. What's the issue with that?"
All of them were seated around a semi-round table in one of the open cabinets provided to the workers, except Cael Ardyn, who was standing in front of the display screen he had been working on before.
He breathed slowly and looked at the group attentively.
"I think Professor Samara has provided all the guidelines and info about the situation. You should check your inboxes before asking unnecessary questions."
The silver-haired woman replied with a dazed look on her small face.
"Uhh… Rohan and I are also not informed about the issue, and I think Lyra doesn't know about it either."
Cael frowned and looked at Rohan and Lyra.
"Why would I ask what you were doing if I knew what the topic of discussion was?" Lyra said with a stiff face, crossing her arms and resting her jaw on them.
"I didn't check my inbox either. So I don't know about it." The broad-shouldered man — Rohan — replied right after Lyra.
Cael stared at the people gathered in the room, startled.
"Huh… That's strange."
"Maybe she's getting hit by that old-age memory problem, or I don't know what she's thinking. Maybe she thought you could explain this better than her — after all, even she hesitates to use the protocol, and a major event like a Record Break will be handled better by a proper debugger."
Clinton said while sipping his coffee. He relaxed his legs on the sofa and continued while holding the cup in his hands:
"But I have to say this, you are oddly loyal to that ancient tech, or maybe just old things in general. Huh?… That would explain why Samara and you are so close."
Lyra gritted her teeth and looked at Cael for his response, but he didn't press the point. Instead, he replied politely:
"Mind you, Professor Samara is married. There is nothing between us. She still uses the debugger protocol as a base to develop a new advanced version to replace it; it's not that she hesitates to use it because of the load on one's mind. Secondly, the reason I use it is simply that — the debugger protocol is old, but it's still one of the primal tools provided to us by the Archivists. It may be outclassed by new models and tools, but I feel like no one has used the protocol to its full potential."
"And… you have?" Clinton asked and sipped his coffee with a slurp.
"I'm not even close. I think I need a separate protocol to debug the debugger protocol. Does that make sense? Maybe. But that's not what we're here to talk about, is it?"
Rohan nodded and replied:
"So, what's wrong with the Record Break and why have we been asked to deal with it?"
Cael replied while moving his fingers through the display, showing various data graphs and charts.
"It's not the first time there's been a problem with the Record Break, but it's the first in a decade and this Record Break is happening months ahead of schedule. The readings and predictions were way off, even for a miscalculation. We need debuggers to check the underlying code of the Falling World and the Record Break and report any anomalies to the higher-ups."
He paused, then continued:
"So for most of the work, we just need a debugger or a team to inspect the Record Break, with others working to find crucial data after the expedition team uncovers any leads."
The silver-haired woman raised her hand and spoke:
"But we don't have enough mastery over the protocol, only Lyra and you have that level of capability. So a team of two is all we need for the expedition?"
Cael replied immediately:
"No. I'm going alone. There's a chance this Break will affect the mind and memory of anyone in close proximity, and I have the highest resistance to it, built through constant use of the protocol. Lyra will work with the team on finding crucial data."
Hearing this, Lyra jumped and responded:
"I also volunteer for the expedition team. I can handle a simple overload."
"It's dangerous for you, and the team is already understaffed. We'll need you there to manage the report if something goes wrong. Besides, I'm not very good at anything except debugging the system." Cael said, prompting Lyra to sit back down.
Then he checked the time on his watch and continued:
"That will be all. I'll go to the rooftop and inspect the Record Break. If anything goes wrong — multiple recursion breaches opening, or distorted space bending — the data team will collect the information and inform the higher-ups. The worst that can happen is that I end up becoming an Echo and lose my originality."
Clinton looked at Cael with a sullen expression and spoke. His voice carried heaviness which was not something anyone expected him to carry.
"That was not funny. Don't even joke about it, lad."
At this, Cael trembled slightly and headed for the elevator.
"I-I'll remember."
With that he stepped into the elevator, waving one hand with a faint smile on his face. The door closed with a swift sound, and soon afterwards neon-dotted lights gleamed at the edges of the elevator as it flew upwards with minimum noise.
Watching the elevator ascend, Clinton clicked his tongue and said to himself in a rather loud voice.
"Just don't do anything rash…"