Three hours later, he woke with a jolt. The soft hum of rotors pressing against the
glass outside grabbed his attention. A drone hovered just over the balcony, its
movement precise, almost surgical. It
released a package with practiced ease and then turned to vanish into the night sky without a word. He got up, slid the
door open and examined the package. The
box was seamless; matte black with no branding.
A thin red LED line traced its edge like a heartbeat. There was no sender or instructions.
For some reason, it made him think
about all of the disappearing people.
Something was happening in New Vire.
People disappeared without warning. No explanations or goodbyes. There were always disappearances, but
recently…what was it they said? 900 in a
month? That was unprecedented.
He picked it up, brought it inside,
and set it on the table. His eyes locked
on the surface as he sat down, examining the package.
It was beautiful—disturbingly so.
Smooth black steel, matte as void, cool to the touch. The red line that traced
its edges pulsed faintly, like it was alive. There was no label or return
address, but it seemed sent with a purpose and specific design.
He couldn't remember the last time
he'd received a package that wasn't from a ration hub or encrypted drop point.
Nothing unmarked. Nothing like this.
His mind raced with possibilities. Was this a corporate setup? Blackmail? A trap
from the Red Vein Syndicate?
But no one sent boxes like this. He sat there for a long time, staring at it. Then he reached for the seal, half-expecting
something to hiss or spark. But nothing did.
The box simply opened with a
smooth release of pressure. Inside, nestled in dense black foam, sat a headset. He expected some type of weapon,
instructions, or maybe some stacks of JEWELS.
Instead he saw a sleek, curved band of obsidian alloy, light-reactive
and warm at the core. It looked more advanced than anything he'd ever seen.
"Really?" he muttered. "A sim
rig?"
His first instinct was
skepticism. Was this some kind of prototype? Maybe a new kind of non-invasive
sim tech. Corporations were always trying to market escape in cleaner packages,
saying they were less caustic and more efficient. Maybe this was the next
upgrade to keep people docile.
Still...
He turned it in his hands. It didn't have any ports to plug anything
into or serial codes. He eyed a single
micro-etched symbol along the interior band and held it up to the light. It was a circle split by a single downward
line. He'd seen that symbol somewhere.
In a forum? Or maybe painted on a street wall.
Whether out of pure curiosity or something deeper he didn't know, but he
chose to fit the headset over his head, and the world blinked out.
Black. Then light.
A smooth voice spoke calmly,
non-human. "Welcome, Kalen. You have been strategically selected."
His vision flooded with data; pulsing
grids and screens that split and folded. Charts. Graphs. Video feeds. They all displayed the same unchecked greed
and corruption that ran rampant in New Vire.
He saw corporate executives bathing in synthetic oceans while their
workers starved. Politicians lauged over backroom deals as cities collapsed. Criminal
kings rose in power, funded by government grants and buried records.
It was the truth.
The voice returned.
"We are the Substrate. We do
not seek peace. We seek balance. The world you inhabit has been lost to the
few. Power has calcified. Wealth has stagnated. Control has been sold."
More images flashed of riots
crushed by drones. Cities gutted for resources.
"We are not here to repair
the world. We are here to reset it. To strip the aristocracy of its throne. To
return the flow of wealth and power to all of humanity, not only the
chosen."
Kalen didn't move.
The voice pulsed with quiet
gravity. "You have been chosen to help us begin."
Text appeared in the center of
his view:
Do you accept?
[YES][NO]
"If you decline," the
voice said, "no action will be taken. You will wake in your room. No
memory of this message will remain. Your life will continue."
"But the system will fall
regardless. With or without you."
Kalen stared at the prompt.
He didn't move, but spoke clearly.
"What happens if I accept?"
The voice returned. Smooth and
controlled.
"Upon acceptance of this
offer, your old life will cease. You will be issued a new identity. From this
point forward, you will be known as Kael Strade."
A pause. Then:
"You will be imbued with a
highly sophisticated neural network interface. It will evolve as you do. You
will be equipped with operational gear, mental and physical augmentations, and
strategic access points that far exceed any current civilian or military
systems."
Kalen's brow furrowed. "Will I
have to kill?"
"Removal of mission-critical
personnel and key officials with extreme prejudice is non-negotiable. All
others are left to agent discretion."
He swallowed once. "Will I have
free will?"
"Free will is a theoretical
construct. However, as you perceive it, it will remain intact. Any agent may
leave the Substrate at any time. Upon departure, your equipment will be
remotely decommissioned and inaccessible."
Another pause.
"…What about my family?"
"All personal relationships
are left to agent discretion. You are not required to sever contact unless
operational security is compromised."
Silence again.
Kalen stared into the endless
dark, the floating prompt still waiting.
Then:
"Are you ready to
proceed?"
He didn't blink. Didn't hesitate.
"...Yes."
The screen dissolved. Light
swallowed the black.
INITIATION PROTOCOL ENGAGED.
Kael felt the systemic shift,
more cerebral than physical. His mind stretched and sharpened, like cold water
filling hidden channels in his brain.
Data raced across his vision.
Neural linkages forming. Memory sectors rewriting. Recognition overlays
activating. His old name unraveled in the code, replaced seamlessly:
STRIDE: KAEL
A new HUD formed in his vision. It was minimalist, efficient, and perfectly
calibrated. In the corner, a soft pulse appeared. Then a voice returned, this
one different, warmer, more human:
"Neural integration
complete. Welcome, Kael. Would you prefer I use a visual representation for
interface purposes?"
Kael exhaled slowly, steadying
himself.
"Yes."
"Understood. Interface
customization unlocked. Substrate initialization complete."
A compartment clicked open behind
him. He turned. Inside the box: a compact weapons
kit, a black tactical coat with filament threading, a sealed envelope, and a
case holding a pair of shimmering contact lenses.He lifted them. They vibrated lightly in his palm.
"These are your
Substrate-linked lenses," the AI said. "Once worn, the HUD is
permanently integrated. The headset is no longer required."
Kael slid them in.
The world sharpened.
In the envelope: a single black
ticket, a datacard with a mission brief, and a note with three words:
RECOVER DOCTOR MARR
"Your transport is en
route," said the AI. "You may prepare."
Kael stood slowly, a different
person entirely. His thoughts were no
longer scattered or slow, they moved like data across a clean line. His vision
adjusted, panoramic now, pulling in granular detail from every surface. The
world was mapped now. Faint lines traced
along his surroundings and highlighted potential threats. Everything was being assessed in real time.
He had an intrinsic understanding
of modern warfare, battle tactics and weapon handling. Combat readiness algorithms ran through his
nervous system like echoes of remembered training. His hands knew how to kill. As he processed it all, the AI's voice cut in,
observing his thoughts and reactions.
"You will need time to
adjust. Your brain's processing capacity has been drastically increased. Your
physical body will sharpen to meet it. Upgrades will become available as
needed, in addition to rewards for successful operations."
A beat.
"Your first mission begins
in two hours."
He didn't panic. It was as if his mind had swapped fear for
preparation. He glanced at the tactical
coat and Initiate-01 suppressed pistol lying nearby. Faint green outlines glowed around them; Substrate's
classification system already embedded into his perception. He picked up the coat and slipped it on. It was an exact fit, and the material felt
impossibly advanced. It was lightweight,
pressure-distributing, and temperature-regulating. A soft inner lining overlaid
with reactive mesh, able to stiffen at impact points. It was the most comfortable and sophisticated
thing he'd ever worn. Whatever his
future held, It had to be better than here.
Exactly one hour later, his HUD blinked with a soft pulse.
[ANONYMOUS]: Your transport has
arrived. Street level. No delays.
He moved through the apartment
one last time, then stepped into the hall, descending to the street without
effort.