The café is quiet.
The City outside runs in low resolution.
Here, the textures are sharp. The lighting is clean. The air smells of roasted coffee.
This is the Admin Lounge.
Chloe sits at a corner table. She is vibrating.
She isn’t wearing her wellness gear anymore. She’s back in a blazer, unbuttoned. Her hair is in a messy bun.
On the table in front of her, a tablet plays footage of the tech store brawl.
Kam bends a door frame.
Marcus throws a toaster.
Chloe points at the screen.
“Look at the geometry,” she says. “He’s clipping through the assets.”
Harry sits opposite her.
“It’s just a door, Chlo,” he says.
He looks perfect.
A soft grey hoodie. No damage. He eats a pain au chocolat with a knife and fork.
“It’s not just a door,” Chloe says. “It’s a load?bearing asset.”
She scrubs the video back.
“Do you know how much a glazier costs right now? We’re over budget on the repair fund. If the shareholders see this—”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
She trails off, tapping her pen on the table.
Harry slides a napkin across.
“Stop tapping,” he says. “You’re glitching the audio.”
Chloe stops.
She exhales.
She looks at Harry.
“Why did you go down there?” she says. “You’re not supposed to be in render distance yet.”
“My intern messed up,” Harry says. “Lewis.”
He takes a bite of pastry.
“He ran a script he didn’t understand. I debugged it manually.”
“Debug,” Chloe says. “You froze a fourteen?year?old boy’s hand.”
“I put him on a cooling plan,” Harry says.
He smiles.
“He was overheating. I helped him regulate.”
Chloe rolls her eyes. She still smiles.
“You’re lucky it worked,” she says. “If Kam had flared—”
“He wouldn’t,” Harry says.
He wipes a crumb from his lip.
“He’s a good kid. He doesn’t want to hurt anyone. He just doesn’t know how to be heavy without breaking the floor.”
“He’s ruinous,” Chloe says. “He’s a net loss.”
She gestures to the window.
“We gave them Safe Mode. We gave them stability. Why can’t they be happy with that?”
“Because they like the mud,” Harry says.
He leans back.
“Some people like the struggle. You can’t patch that out. You have to change the neighborhood.”
Harry picks up his phone.
“I handled the store owner,” he says. “Approved the insurance claim. Added an inconvenience fee.”
Chloe blinks.
“You paid him off?”
“I incentivized silence.”
He stands.
“Now Kam isn’t a criminal. He’s just a local character.”
Chloe shakes her head.
“You’re terrifying,” she says.
“I’m helpful.”
He brushes at his hoodie.
“I’ve got a chemistry tutor at four.”
“Harry.”
She looks at him.
“Don’t get too close to them. Kam isn’t code. If you push him too hard, he won’t crash.”
“I know,” Harry says.
He smiles.
“I’m not pushing him.”
He pauses.
“I’m waiting.”
Harry leaves.
The glass doors open for him.
Chloe watches him go.
She looks back at the tablet.
Kam is frozen on screen, glowing, holding a crowbar.
She lifts her drink.
It’s gone lukewarm.
---
The allotment is dark.
Rain falls steadily.
Kam sits on the engine block inside the shed.
He isn’t wired in.
He isn’t glowing.
He looks at his hand.
The frost is gone. The skin is pale.
He flexes his fingers. They move slowly.
Silas welds at the bench. Sparks scatter.
“Stop picking at it,” Silas says.
“It feels dead,” Kam says.
“Thermal shock,” Silas says. “Nerves are confused.”
Kam looks down at the engine block.
Usually he needs it.
Tonight he doesn’t.
He feels fine.
That unsettles him.
“Silas,” Kam says.
He looks at the new plates.
“Make it heavier.”
Silas stops. He flips his visor up.
He studies Kam.
He nods.
“We’ll add lead lining.”
The visor drops.
The torch flares.
Kam flexes his fingers again.
They move.
There is no heat behind it.
No pressure.
He lowers his hand.
For the first time, he isn’t sure he could flare if he needed to.
Somewhere, a system registers the change.
It does not react.
It stops waiting.
