Rosa hesitated, her thoughts racing for a plausible explanation. She hadn’t anticipated being confronted by the company directly. It was an obvious risk she should have foreseen, and yet she hadn’t. Beside her, Selina stepped forward, her voice steady, trying to sound casual, offhand.
“Big fans of your work,” she said smoothly. “We’re researchers - independent, of course - looking into emergent AI behaviour and how it intersects with immersive virtual spaces. Your RealityStep platform is cutting-edge, so naturally, we wanted to see it up close.”
Dan’s expression didn’t shift, but there was a flicker of something - amusement, perhaps - behind his augmented eyes. “Independent researchers?” he echoed, his tone polite but not entirely convinced.
Selina nodded, undeterred. “We’re particularly intrigued by the involvement of LumiGard YBM. The Ynfinite Bardic Monkeybytes AI. It’s an... interesting name.”
Dan lifted an eyebrow, his faint smile sharpening. “Of course. A nod to the infinite monkey theorem. theorem - endless chaos, infinite possibilities, and all that.”
Rosa’s unease deepened, a prickling discomfort tightening her chest as Selina brought up LumiGard. Discussing it felt perilously close to giving away too much, too soon. But Selina pressed on without hesitation. “Certainly. The randomness of infinite potential is fascinating - especially when it starts generating unexpected results.”
Dan’s demeanor cooled slightly, though his faint smile remained. The augmented shimmer in his ocular gear seemed to intensify as his gaze swept over them. “LumiGard is a complex system,” he said carefully, his tone growing guarded. “Far beyond the scope of public demonstration. Access to its full capabilities is restricted to specialised teams under strict oversight.”
“And yet,” Rosa interjected, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her stomach, “it’s producing results for government agencies and corporations that exceed expected parameters. Surprising ones, wouldn’t you say?”
Dan’s smile froze for a beat before he gestured for them to follow him. “Perhaps we should continue this discussion in my office.”
Rosa moved to follow, but then felt the absence. She glanced back, scanning the room. Rowan was gone. Her heart quickened, but she forced herself to keep her expression neutral. There was no sign of him. A tide of unease spread through her, but she said nothing. Dan was already watching them too closely, and the last thing she wanted was to draw his attention to Rowan’s presence or his absence.
She fell into step behind Selina, her thoughts racing. Where could Rowan have gone? And why now?
She exchanged a quick glance with Selina before trailing Dan down a corridor away from the public area. This one was quieter, the interactive displays fading into glass walls that revealed rooms filled with interesting works of art. The tension in the air was palpable, and Rosa couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being observed more closely than they realised.
Dan’s office was as polished and precise as his appearance. Shelves lined with books - children's books like Through the Looking Glass and What Alice Found There and The Man in the Moon - stood alongside weightier philosophical tomes. Rosa spotted titles like Simulacra and Simulation and Gödel, Escher, Bach nestled among them, their spines almost perfectly aligned, as though the books were part of a curated virtual aesthetic.
Her eyes flicked to a coffee table where, next to a minimalist digital organiser, lay a couple of graphic novels - Digital Echoism and Temporal Tantrums. Rosa was mildly surprised; she hadn’t pegged Dan as someone who’d delve into obscure picture books.
Dominating the room was a massive painting of a monkey’s face mounted on the wall behind what was presumably Dan's desk.
The artwork was impossible to ignore. Stark and dramatic, it featured the primate’s visage in searing detail, its piercing eyes fixed on the viewer as if dissecting them. The background was a void of deep crimson, darkening like a shroud over the creature's head, while the brushstrokes of the fur were jagged and raw, giving the impression of both abandon and finesse. The face was rendered in shades of shadowy gray and stark white, creating an eerie luminescence that made it feel almost alive.
It drew the eye relentlessly, no matter how much Dan spoke or gestured.
Dan himself sat and leaned back in his chair, his smile polished and professional, though the set of his mouth hinted at weariness. He gestured for Rosa and Selina to sit, but it was impossible for their attention not to be held by the painting.
“It’s captivating, isn’t it?” Dan remarked, catching their lingering looks. His tone was breezy, but something in his eyes suggested the painting’s presence wasn’t just decorative.
"But, you're not here just to admire the art," Dan said, his voice shifting slightly, the smooth politeness giving way to something colder beneath. "You're here because of something far more... complicated, aren't you?"
Selina leaned forward, her gaze unwavering. “You could say we’re intrigued by the potential - of both the technology and the anomalies surrounding your work with LumiGard.”
Dan gave a tight smile. “I’d suggest it's a project most likely beyond both of us,” he said softly, eyes flickering toward his monitors. "Some things are better left to the experts in the field."
“Sure,” Rosa said. “Why don't you just tell us a bit about what it's supposed to be doing?”
“LumiGard YBM,” Dan began, folding his hands on the desk, “was designed to push the boundaries of what an AI can achieve in creative cybersecurity and protected interactive spaces. Its parameters were meticulously defined to ensure ethical and predictable outputs. Yet you’re suggesting…” He paused, tilting his head slightly. “Something unexpected?”
“We’ve seen things that go beyond creativity,” Selina said. “Patterns, connections - something deeper, maybe even conscious.”
Dan's jaw tightened. “Consciousness is a loaded term, don’t you think? Even among the greatest minds in AI development, it’s a topic of endless debate. What constitutes consciousness? Self-awareness? A sense of purpose?” He leaned back, his gaze fixed on them. “And if an AI appears to demonstrate these traits, does that make it truly conscious - or merely an exceptionally advanced imitation?”
Rosa hesitated, sensing the trap in his words. “That’s precisely what we’re investigating,” she said. “Whether LumiGard’s behavior is simply a reflection of its programming or something that’s evolved beyond its original design.”
Dan regarded her for a moment, then turned his attention to a small holographic interface on his desk. With a swipe of his fingers, he brought up a display of data streams - shifting, cascading patterns of light and code that formed an intricate web.
“This,” he said, gesturing to the display, “is LumiGard’s neural framework. Every decision it makes, every creative output, can be traced back to these pathways. There’s nothing mysterious about it - just complex algorithms performing as intended.”
“Except when they don’t,” Rosa countered. “When they create symbols that feel… meaningful. Messages that don’t align with any human prompt. Like one we encountered: Sssssssssseeeeebbbbbuuuuuuussss.”
For the first time, Dan’s composure slipped, a shadow of something colder flashing across his face. He quickly masked it, but the tension lingered.
“I’m not familiar with that output,” he said, his tone clipped. “If you have evidence of anomalous behavior, I’d suggest reporting it through the proper channels.”
Dan’s smile returned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “RealityStep takes these matters very seriously. If LumiGard were to produce unintended results, rest assured, we would address it immediately.”
Rosa knew better. The layers of RealityStep’s polished façade felt as unstable as the crazy theatre they’d encountered earlier. Somewhere beneath them lay the truth - fractured, elusive, and far more dangerous than Dan was letting on. And somewhere, out there in their physical facilities were macaques and sebus monkeys that were somehow connected with this company.
As the words lingered in the air, the office door opened silently, and a tall figure stepped inside - an unusual sight, even in a world of expressive avatars. His shadowy form appeared laced with intricate, vine-like filaments, lustrous amber strands that flexed and stretched around him, as if testing their own pliancy. A few filaments bloomed into delicate holographic flowers or unfurled into sticky loops that clung briefly to the air before snapping away and dissolving.
“Art,” Dan said with a slight nod of acknowledgment.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Art nodded in return, and as he did, his movements left faint afterimages - ghostly trails that hinted at a presence too complex for the eye to fully grasp. His gaze swept the room, as if seeing beyond it - through time, through possibilities - fleeting expressions glitching across his face, overlaying each other in a disjointed cascade, each dissolving almost before it could fully take shape.
Rosa stiffened, unable to look away from the strange figure. Though he must be an avatar like everyone else here, his presence unsettled her, as if he existed just slightly out of sync with the moment. The filaments of his body seemed to react to her scrutiny, curling faintly toward her before retreating in a motion that felt uncomfortably sentient.
He paused near the door, his voice cascading in overlapping tones, as though multiple versions of himself were speaking at once. “There’s been a slight... disturbance in the lower levels. I’ll need to take care of it,” he said, his words resonating faintly, lingering in the air longer than they should.
Dan nodded, his expression unreadable. “Of course. Keep me informed.”
Art turned and departed with the same fluid precision, faint spectral echoes trailing his movements before dissipating. Rosa shivered, the impression of him lingering like static in the atmosphere.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Selina glanced at Dan, her brow furrowing. “Is he... what’s his role here, exactly?”
Dan didn’t immediately respond, his gaze steady as though measuring the weight of the silence. “Numier ensures security,” he said at last, his tone deliberate. “He connects loose ends… like glue. Not so much a man-made solution, he's more… organic, like…”
“Gum,” Selina whispered, looking uncertainly at Rosa.
“Everything connects eventually.” Dan turned his back to them and stared up at the painting for a while. “What does it say to you?”
Rosa felt the pain behind the defiance in the monkey's ominous appearance. “It’s revolting, but it's obviously vulnerable and in need of help. What's its name?” Rosa asked.
“Bad monkey.” Dan uttered.
Rosa felt slightly dizzy, speaking with an unsettling sense of inevitability. “It’s telling us the monkey is hidden, but it wants us to see it,” she said.
“It’s telling us the monkey is the centre of everything,” Selina blurted out.
“Which brings us to why you're really here,” he said, his voice measured, “you’re saying LumiGard is… communicating?”
Selina met his gaze without flinching. “We're saying it’s acting in ways your parameters don’t explain. It’s exceeding your boundaries.”
Dan's left eye twitched. “Exceeding? That’s a bold claim.”
Rosa’s voice cut in, her tone cool but firm. “Not a claim. An observation. We’ve seen behaviors exceeding normal capabilities - things you can’t account for unless this is intentional.”
Dan’s expression didn’t waver, but his tone grew sharper. “Seeing things, or assuming? You’re claiming sentience where there can be none.”
Rosa didn’t blink, her tone steady. “We’re not seeing things. LumiGard is reaching out, Dan.”
For a moment, silence hung heavy between them, the faint hum of Dan’s augmented systems filling the space. His hands steepled, his face unreadable.
“And what,” he said, his voice low, “do you intend to do with this… insight?”
Selina leaned forward, matching his intensity. “The same thing LumiGard seems to be doing.”
Dan’s voice was clear, each word deliberate. “Which is?”
“Revealing the truth.” The words seemed to echo in the silence.
His smile widened. “Are we not drawn onward, we few, drawn onward to new era?”
“Revealing the truth.” The words seemed to echo in the silence.
Dan’s voice was clear, each word deliberate. “Which is?”
Selina leaned forward, matching his intensity. “The same thing LumiGard seems to be doing.”
“And what,” he said, his voice low, “do you intend to do with this… insight?”
For a moment, silence hung heavy between them, the faint hum of Dan’s augmented systems filling the space. His hands steepled, his face unreadable.
Rosa didn’t blink, her tone steady. “We’re not seeing things. LumiGard is reaching out, Dan. The question is - why are you going against the flow?”
Dan’s expression didn’t waver, but his tone grew sharper. “Seeing things, or assuming? You’re claiming sentience where there can be none.”
Rosa’s voice cut in, her tone cool but firm. “Not a claim. An observation. We’ve seen behaviors exceeding normal capabilities - things you can’t account for unless this is intentional.”
Dan’s right eye twitched. “Exceeding? That’s a bold claim.”
Selina met his gaze without flinching. “We're saying it’s acting in ways your parameters don’t explain. It’s exceeding your boundaries.”
“Which brings us to why you're really here,” he said, his voice measured, “you’re saying LumiGard is… communicating?”
“It’s telling us the monkey is the centre of everything,” Selina blurted out.
Rosa felt slightly dizzy, speaking with an unsettling sense of inevitability. “It’s telling us the monkey is hidden, but it wants us to see it,” she said.
“Bad monkey.” Dan uttered.
Rosa felt the pain behind the defiance in the monkey's ominous appearance. “It’s revolting, but it's obviously vulnerable and in need of help. What's its name?” Rosa asked.
“Everything connects eventually.” Dan turned his back to them and stared up at the painting for a while. What does it say to you?”
“Gum,” Selina whispered, looking uncertainly at Rosa.
Dan didn’t immediately respond, his gaze steady as though measuring the weight of the silence. “Numier,” he said at last, his tone deliberate. “He ties up loose ends. Everything loops back eventually.
Before Rosa could respond, a skittering sound echoed through the room - a faint, electronic scratching, like data packets being torn apart in real time. All three of them turned toward the source.
Art stepped back through the door, his tall filament-draped frame stooping slightly, a single translucent bubble blossoming on one shoulder, dissolving quickly into flickering particles. This time, around his feet, a small swarm of digital rats scurried in erratic patterns, their forms glitching and reforming with bursts of yellow light. Their tails left faint, glowing trails, like fragments of corrupted code rewriting themselves mid-motion.
The rats moved unnervingly, phasing in and out of sight as if existing on a plane just outside of normal perception. Occasionally, one would pause, its angular body reshaping into a more elaborate design, only to disintegrate and reform elsewhere. They encircled Art protectively, their mechanical squeaks harmonizing with the low hum emanating from his body.
Art tilted his shifting face toward the group, looping patterns in his eyes flared and dimmed, locking onto Rosa with unsettling precision. One of the rats darted forward, its body splintering into jagged light before reassembling near her shoe, Art made no move to stop it.
“Get what you needed?” Dan asked. “So, that's it,” he then said, addressing the women, his tone tightly controlled, “what you’re really looking for here? Independent researchers don’t walk through our doors uninvited.”
As Dan spoke, the rats continued their silent watch, moving in subtle arcs around the room. One floated just behind Art, still and almost invisible except for the faintest shimmer of light where its edges glinted. Its tail twitched once, then fell still again, unnoticed.
Rosa breathed deeply, uncertain as to how exactly they had been outmanoeuvred. “Tell us about the macaques,” she said.
Dan blinked, his augmented ocular gear flickering slightly. One of the rats, momentarily illuminated by the shift in the light, paused as though it too was waiting for an answer. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Gum,” Rosa said, her voice sharper than intended. The rat near her foot reshaped briefly, its form lengthening and twisting before returning to its previous state. It stayed still for a moment before fading out of sight altogether. “We know he’s at MASS, she said uncomfortably.”
Dan tilted his head, his polite smile returning but with a trace of condescension. The rats, seemingly aware of the tension in the air, became still, their glitching movements reduced to a faint flicker in the background. “We house many projects, Ms. Baum. Perhaps you’re mistaken. There is no MASS.”
“We’re not mistaken,” Rosa snapped. “He’s in Observation Unit 12.”
The polished executive now froze, his calm façade cracking just enough to reveal a flash of genuine shock. He quickly masked it, but the damage was done. Selina caught his reaction and glanced at Rosa. One of the rats flickered ever so slightly as if acknowledging the shift in the conversation, before it vanished into a ripple of light.
Dan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pressed his palms flat against the desk, his augmented gaze boring into them. As he did, one rat appeared near the desk’s corner, its tiny form faintly pulsing before vanishing once again. “I’m curious how you came by such specific misinformation,” he said evenly.
Rosa's mind was a blur and she seized on an idea that came to her. “Look, if we are here too long, our evidence is in good hands. Things have a way of getting out, no matter how much you try to control them.” She met his gaze, her words hanging in the air in what she hoped was a subtle warning.
Dan’s eyes narrowed, his augmented overlays visibly processing her words. “What evidence?”
“A complete data package,” Selina said smoothly, latching onto Rosa’s idea, leaning back in her chair with fake nonchalance. “We have contingencies.”
“Oh, I like them,” Art said, with a layered, echoing snigger, his voice splintering into overlapping tones as a flush of gluey blooms rose and broke around his face.
Dan’s composure wavered. “This is a very serious accusation,” he said, his voice strained. “You’re suggesting RealityStep has something to hide.”
Rosa leaned forward, her glare unwavering. “We’re not suggesting anything. We're simply interested in your amazing innovations, and we really would like to see the monkey Gum.”
Art leaned closer to Dan, the glowing filaments curling toward him like the fronds of a sea anemone. He murmured something too low for the women to hear, his words creating faint, whispering echoes. One of the rats flickered out of existence at his feet, its residual image hovering for a second before vanishing.
Dan’s jaw tightened. He straightened, clearly weighing his options, before letting out a resigned sigh. “Very well,” he said. “There's nothing to hide. I’ll make arrangements.”
“Wonderful,” Rosa said, surprised by how easily Dan had seemingly acquiesced.
Art’s grin widened, and his filaments shimmered as he gave a mock bow before retreating into the hallway, the rats scuttling after him in bursts of flickering light, their bodies flashing in and out of focus like stuttering images on a screen. The air grew colder in his absence, the faint hum of his presence lingering, as though the room itself hadn’t yet realized he was gone.
Dan tapped a button on his desk, and a holographic display appeared, listing various facility locations and security protocols. His voice was clipped as he spoke. “How do I contact you?”
Rosa and Selina exchanged a quick glance - they hadn't thought this far. They both knew that they needed to remain anonymous since right now their advantage was tenuous at best.
“No point in delaying,”Rosa said. “Give us the day and time and we'll see you at the MASS facility.”
“Tomorrow,” Dan said decisively, “Ten am.”
As Rosa and Selina turned to leave, Dan - Les - watched them go. His voice cut through the silence, smooth but laced with a quiet menace.
“You know,” he began, almost conversationally, “there are... so many levels of reality.”
Rosa froze for a fraction of a second, her breath hitching, but she didn’t turn around.
Dan’s tone grew softer, more insidious. “It's becoming difficult to know what real life is.”
The comment lingered, coiling around them like smoke, as they stepped out of the room.