Ava watched the readout of the digital key on her armband, unable to keep up with the changing layers. The tiny access corridor reeked of ozone and stale air, making each breath feel thick in her lungs as Viktor's oversized arm cramped into her side and Sarah's butt pressed against her contorting her hips to the side. The room outside sounded like a cataclysm with electric blue outlining the door from the magnetic field still growing outside. Her skin prickled with static electricity as they all felt the outer chamber caving in on itself. She focused. Her mind flashed back to test runs when things behaved predictably, controllably. She wondered how long they could survive in this accessway miles below the city. She focused again. Lines of code mutated as they adapted to the ancient security protocols cycling too fast to lock in. The attempts appearing alien, as each cycle became less predictable than the last. She worried the financial network might have already failed making the effort pointless as the door would never open in a lockdown. She focused yet again.
Sweat beaded on Viktor's forehead despite the cool underground air, "It is really tight in here," he said as he tried to adjust his oversized augmented legs into a more comfortable position.
"Ow!" It was Sarah as she was already flattened against the wall as Viktor's shifting weight pushed ever harder. Her ghost protocol gear crackled against the metal walls, sending brief arcs of blue light surrounding her in the darkness.
"I'm trying to concentrate here!" Ava snapped sharply commanding the others to settle. The walls seemed to compress with each external tremor, the weight of the city above pressing down on their sardine-sized refuge.
Her fingers moved in practiced patterns as she added an imperative for the code to randomly sample protocols in the hope that one might actually align to the changing pattern. If only she knew the random seed, but she was unable to predict the next protocol after almost thirty minutes in the crammed corridor, well before the abacus was started. The memory of yesterday's demonstration frightened her and she hoped she would have broken in without that monstrosity. However, once the abacus triggered, the interface changed and she'd been fighting ever since. Except now, it was a matter of life and death in a dust filled closet squeezed with three other people.
"What have we done?" she whispered, her drying eyes still focused on her wrist. Each failed attempt burning. A few times she hit the correct protocol just before failing to complete the handshake in time. Like digital kudzu she continued making micro adjustments in an attempt to align the protocols and break through the cracks in the algorithm’s walls and open the god-foresaken exit.
A calm, quiet voice cut through her concentration, "What have we done?” repeated Kai. “Got ourselves into a pickle. Just do your best and keep trying," Kai encouraged Ava. Sarah groaned again as the weight was unbearable but she didn't want to distract. "With any luck, they'll shut this place down before the whole city collapses." Kai had moved his body into an odd position in the limited space, climbing halfway up Viktor's left augmented leg and hunching into an open space in the top corner of the room, leaning over the top of Viktor's shoulders. His head directly over Ava's left ear.
Above, like stars winking out one by one, Symmetrist’s non-critical systems failed. The shopping district went dark first. Later, the large information radiator displays flickered and cut out completely. The sudden silence felt like a physical presence, in uniquely chilling ways. The displays were constant reminders of stability, proviing residents with constant guidance and direction for over thirty years. Once providing directions, entertainment, and even affirmations customized to the viewer, now silent. The district’s automated intelligence services no longer showing pictures from home or reminding residents of their daily activity list. Completely silentfor the first time in a generation, citizens felt an oppressive quiet pressure of unfiltered reality. Fortunately, communication augments provided audible connections, but even those gave busy signals as services reeled under an onslaught of calls across the districts.
Hot, stale air washed through the streets as environmental controls began failing, sending waves through pedestrian levels as climate barriers failed. The city's carefully maintained atmosphere fractured into pockets of heat and cold. Sewage pumps backed up and automated maintenance systems ground to a halt to preserve power for security, refrigeration, and water systems.
"Warning," automated messages echoed through communication augments. "Low priority services temporarily suspended. Please remain calm," words that hadn't been heard since the Great Transit Disaster. But this was more than transportation, this was in their homes. Parents held children as households appliances stuttered and died.
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Veridian Center remained powered. The primary citywide infrastructure directive ensured the center where the stadium was located would stay powered as long as possible. Racers and the audience in attendance heard the automated warnings. Several districts now going through outages of power in the surge.
Terra's professional composure cracked as he announced, "Track distortion at the Truth Gate. Officials report widespread system anomalies." The Symmetrists last challenge, still on display on large stadium screens, formed large disorderly holes tearing apart the large hologram field from the inside while service warnings scrolled on the bottom of the screen. Like a digital tapestry unraveling, the spectacle lasted several minutes as runners could be seen advancing into the distance towards the Quantum Collective challenge.
Jo had a unique view of the Symmetrist district as they gained altitude to cross the district transition while keeping track of the runners. Below, Symmetrist neighborhoods lights shifted like checkerboard as power siphoned away. She recognized the pattern – it was like one described in her grandmother's notebooks, a cascade effect where automated systems attempted to maintain security by consuming critical capacity. There were lessor signs from other districts, but growing. "This is bigger than just the TransitTrack," she said aloud. Marcus nodding as he observed the scene. "TransitTrack shut down in thirty seconds, prepare for landing" she directed. Behind them, the Truth Gate palpated before disappearing in confluence with district's low priority a final sigh unraveling Veridian's carefully controlled system.
The stadium fell into stunned silence as Terra's voice cut across the race broadcast: "Officials report system irregularities affecting multiple dis—." His dashboard lit up with warnings showing nearly every runner experiencing navigation issues. He stopped and collected himself. Then he announced something he never thought was possible, "The TransitTrack is shutting down." His words echoed through the suddenly silent stadium.
Then, the crowd erupted in shouts, followed by screams. Like a startled flock, fear rippled in waves, the crowd mobilized and shifted in sudden gusts. At exits, people surged in a chaotic tides of humanity, individuals driven by instinct in a growing stampede. Shrieks rang out as bodies collided, fell, and became trampled. "Remain calm!," Terra's voice anything but calm. The orderly stadium transformed into a state of confusion. People clawed and climbed over each other, pushing and shoving, desperate to escape. "Please!," Terra pleaded. "Veridian Center is safe.” He repeated, yelling: “VERIDIAN CENTER IS SAFE!” Slowly, the message got through. Still speaking at the top of his voice, “This is the safest place in the city. Please calm down! If you must leave, do so orderly but it is not advised! REMAIN CALM." Discord and desperation remained as the crowd slowing began settling again. People helping others up and tending to one another, only moments after stepping on them.
The dead track surface felt alien beneath their feet as the TransitTrack and the pods lost power. The athletes now stood directly on the once vibrant surface, for the first time in their lives. Jo and Marcus landed near the middle of the pack as the runners converged on their location.
In Truth Gate control, Maya worked frantically to contain the deluge of failing systems. Each attempt at stabilization only accelerating the tide. She recognized a pattern from Lou's work – a resonance reaching a certain threshold, collapsing under the weight its own protective measures. Maya reached out to Jo's private channel, tense with controlled panic: "Jo, the system... it's not just overloading. It's transforming. These patterns are like in your grandmother's notebook, its signature amplified across the entire city."
"Maya, what are you saying?" Jo asked, her grandmother's warnings suddenly vivid in her mind. She'd seen these patterns in Lou's careful handwriting just this week as a death-spiral. What was an impossibility moments before, now becoming a imminent crisis.
"Symmetrist systems consuming 47% of district resources," Maya continued. "Our security consultant, Kai Zhang, believes Meridian may be somehow responsible but our request was ignored. Kai's code was rejected given the financial systems are tied to global networks. “I mean, shit Jo, is this going global?” she continued, I've already escalated to the emergency council but the energy draw keeps building, impacting other districts. This is beyond out of control!"
"The TransitTrack is shut down, that should limit the power transfer soon enough," Jo encouraged.
"No!" Maya’s voice breaking in panic, "That is the root of the problem!” Now nearly frantic, “The underground has come alive and is attempting to compensate for the power draw. It is feeding a disturbance far below the Neural Substrate."
"Nothing more I can do Maya. You should go below with a team and investigate,” Jo added, “...carefully. Marcus and I are gathering the athletes and will make our way back to Veridian Center. They still have power and it feels like the safest place to go. Good luck Maya, reach out if we can help," Jo signed off. The weight of three generations of predictions settling heavily on her shoulders.