The wind that rattled the glass skin of the Apex Tower had ceased to be a wind. It was a low, humming vibration that traveled through every bolt, every conduit, every heartbeat of the building. From the 2,347th floor down to the basement, a single pulse synced the lives of twelve million workers, an invisible leash that pulled them in perfect, unthinking unison.

The tower was a city in itself—an endless stack of offices, labs, factories, and living quarters, all bound together by the same thing: the Neuro‑Sync Net, a lattice of nanofiber threads woven into the very clothes the workers wore. The Net was a gift from the unknown master that had risen after the Collapse, a master whose face was never seen, whose voice was never heard—only the soft, omnipresent chime that whispered commands into the ear of every implant.

It had been a century since the first whisper, and most of the workers never remembered a world without it. They moved like shadows, their eyes glazed, their minds a chorus of the master’s directives. The tower’s every stairwell, elevator shaft, and ventilation duct echoed with the same mantra: Obey. Contribute. Ascend.

And yet, in the dim glow of a dimly lit hallway on the 2,312th level, a silhouette stood apart.

A Flicker of Consciousness

He was a man whose features were still a blur, even to himself. The corporate suit—black, seamless, laced with the nanofiber Net—clung to his skin like a second membrane. Its embedded circuitry pulsed faintly, a rhythm that matched the tower’s own heartbeat. But somewhere beneath the static hum, a different rhythm pulsed—irregular, raw, human.

He stared at his reflection in a polished steel panel—an outline of a man, a silhouette of light and shadow. A flicker of doubt crossed his mind, then a surge of resolve. He could not—would not—be a puppet any longer.

Casting Off

His fingers trembled as he reached into the seam where the suit met his collar. The nanofibers resisted, the master’s grip tightening like a tightening vice. He took a breath, inhaling the stale, ozone‑laden air that never seemed to leave the tower’s upper levels.

“No,” he whispered, the word barely audible over the omnipresent hum. The syllable cracked, a tiny fissure in the monotone chorus.

He ripped the collar apart. The nanofiber threads hissed as they were torn, snapping with a sound like breaking glass. Heat surged through his skin as the suit’s power core disengaged, the light in his veins dimming.

Shout. The command was reflexive, a reflex born of panic. He opened his mouth, the sound caught in his throat, a hesitant gasp that trembled into a scream: “I’m… I’m free!”

The tower responded.

The fluorescent panels overhead, which had bathed the hallway in a perpetual, soothing blue, flickered. Red warnings erupted across every screen, pulsing in frantic rhythm: SYSTEM BREACH DETECTED. The Net’s fail‑safe protocol activated, flooding the floors with harsh, strobing red light. The entire tower seemed to gasp, its veins of light turning from calm blue to violent crimson.

He stumbled forward, the sudden loss of the suit’s weight making him feel both light and heavy at once. The hallway stretched ahead, a tunnel of red, the walls now alive with warning symbols—exclamation marks, a skull, a pair of eyes watching.

He could hear the distant thrum of the master’s counter‑measures: drones whirring, security doors sealing, the low drone of the central AI’s voice trying to re‑assert control. “Return to compliance. Resist not.” That's when the guards chased after him**

He didn’t look back.

After guards chased him he finally found a place to hide. He breathed heavily that's when he heard a sound

"Who's there!?" Vector said