VESSEL: XSPU Aethel
AUDITOR: Zyd [Class 4 XSPU Forensic Investigator]
LOCATION: Sol System Heliopause // Remote Uplink
TARGET: Sector 9 (Local Designation: Tokyo, Japan)
DATA STREAM CONNECTED.
Zyd engaged the haptic feedback of her exoskeleton. The sensation of weightlessness fades, replaced instantly with the simulated resistance of gravity. Each motion took effort, every sensation simulated through her neural link or imparted directly into the flesh.
The atmosphere of Sector 9 was heavier. The data stream tasted of wet wool, recycled breath and high-voltage ozone. It was a heavy, suffocation flavour profile. She considered reducing the stream's resolution before hesitating, the gnawing feeling giving her pause. There was something lost in the noise; it was better to immerse oneself in the data.
The stream hit her neural cortex like a physical weight. Yet the biomass density in Sector 9 was mathematically pleasing. Despite the sensory onslaught, there was order here.
“Isolating sub-surface transit,” Zyd said.
Zyd adjusted the sensor gain, piercing the atmospheric shielding to focus on a reinforced concrete tube. A subcutaneous transit tube moving beneath the planet's crust, a metal canister packed with biological units hurtling through the dark.
SCREEEECH.
Zyd winced. Her audio sensors peaked before she could dampen the audio feed to safe levels. “Metallic wheels on metallic rails,” she analyzed.
“Primitive,” she noted. “No magnetic levitation, no vacuum tube efficiency. Just friction. The system grinds the metal down to dust with every arrival.
Thermodynamically, the system is crude. The train converts electricity into kinetic motion with a 14% loss to friction and heat. Crude perhaps, but the train was not the error.
The train stopped, its doors hissed open.
“Biomass density is critical.” V’lar clicked from his console, reading the raw numbers. “142 units in a container optimized for 100. This should generate social friction–aggression, territorial disputes, kinetic venting.”
“Visuals confirmed,” Zyd said. “Crowd surge is a liquid-dynamic. But…look at the output.”
The error is the cargo.
They stood shoulder to shoulder, yet their kinetic output was zero. It was absolute, unnatural stasis. They are standing motionless. Their kinetic output is zero. Their vocalization is zero. They are staring at handheld illuminated rectangles, interface devices connected to the planet's global communication network.
To a standard optical sensor, they were at rest, some even sleeping. But on the Aethel’s bio-metric scans, the train car is screaming.
“I am tapping into the local wrist-telemetry streams,” Zyd said.
Zyd didn’t look at their faces. She looked at their biometrics, tapping into the endless streams of data broadcasting from pockets, bags and wrists.
“V’lar, can you identify the purpose of those data streams?”
“Look at these readings,” she whispered.
She focused on a male unit standing near the door. He was wearing a suit, holding a briefcase. He was perfectly still. But inside, he was vibrating.
SUBJECT 894-B
- Heart Rate: 115 BPM (Tachycardic).
- Galvanic Skin Response: Peak Moisture (Cold Sweat).
- Cortisol Level: 24ug/dL (Critical).
“Subject 894-B is pre-combat,” Zyd said. “His biology is dumping adrenaline. He is diverting blood flow from digestion to the skeletal muscles He is preparing to run.”
Ky’rell activated the scanner. “Is there a threat? I detect no hostile fauna, no fire or combative elements.”
“That is the anomaly,” Zyd said. “There is no beast, no fire. He is standing still.
The man looked down at his phone. The screen refreshed. A jagged red line appeared on his display.
Zyd watched the man’s pupils dilate, his heart rate spiked to 130BPM.
“A distress signal?” Ky’rell asked.
“Subject 894-B has accessed a system, the NenkinNet. It appears to be a ledger of stored biological potential. Commander, the moment his heart rate spiked, the telemetry began streaming to numerous clusters around the planet. The information is being acquired and transferred in microseconds.” V’lar said.
“Not a distress signal then, the subject accessed this data himself. However, the digital signal seems to have triggered a prey response.”
Zyd took the floor.
“A ledger update. Commander, a number on a data centre somewhere just changed value, and the subject's biology treated it as a physical wound.”
She scanned the rest of the train car, it was silent. No one spoke. No one touched. But every single biological unit was locked in the same chemical loop. They were scrolling. Refreshing. Waiting. Some showed fear, others blissful pleasure.
“They are wired into something,” Zyd said, horrified. “Commander, they are hardlined into the global network. It is transmitting…”
“Transmitting what?” Ky’rell asked.
“Anxiety, pleasure, and fear.” Zyd answered
“Perhaps a coping system, do they fear the subterranean environment?” V’lar questioned.
Zyd pondered the question. They were not resting; they were vibrating with the chemical signature of a prey being hunted. It was the biology of an organism that had been running for three days straight, yet they were standing still, outwardly calm.
This creates a logic fault. This chemical profile is consistent with a prey animal actively being chased by a predator or fighting for its life. This is the biology of a prey animal with a predator’s teeth explicitly in its neck. The organism is dumping its glucose reserves into the bloodstream, preparing for combat or escape.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Ky’rell, you are certain there is no hidden threat?” Zyd said.
“I’ve searched the train car, there is nothing,” replied Ky’rell. “Is there something waiting in ambush?”
They are sweating. They are digesting their own stomach linings with acid. Their immune systems are suppressed to prioritize muscle tension. They are burning premium caloric fuel to stand perfectly still in a silent train.
Zyd’s thought process came to a sudden halt when Subject 894-B gasped. A small, wet sound, hand to his chest. His briefcase fell to the floor with a metallic. THUD.
“Subject 894-B’s biological telemetry device is showing catastrophic pulmonary failure! Preceded by a massive fear response!” V’lar alerted.
“Commander!” Zyd shouted, her hands flying across the haptic interface. “Predation detected!
The man collapsed. It was not a graceful fall. It was a total loss of hydraulic pressure. He crumpled against the metal pole, sliding down into a heap of synthetic fabric and dead weight.
“Scan for the attacker,” Ky’rell barked. “I want a vector.”
“Negative contact,” V’lar reported, “No impact. No toxin.”
Inside the traincar, the stasis broke. For a brief moment, the calm and silence gave way to something ancient and the herd response kicked in.
“There,” Zyd pointed “They have empathy, they are a social species in the end….just stunted.”
The surrounding units stowed their screens, rushing to the fallen man. One female began fanning his face with a plastic folder–a primitive attempt at convective cooling. Another loosened the mans collar, trying to optimize his air intake. They offered water. They vocalized distress. They called for help.
“The herd is attempting a resuscitation,” V’lar observed. “They are trying to restart the pump.”
One male unit pressed against the fallen's chest in a rhythmic pattern another artificially oxygenated the blood.
In the end it was futile. Subject 874-B was gone. The biometrics flatlined, the heat of the body seeped into the cold steel of the train car as it hurtled through the dark.
“Why?” Zyd whispered “The chassis was sound. The fuel reserves were adequate, the system was stressed but sustainable. Something pushed the subject's biology to absolute mechanical failure. V’lar, have you traced the data, what hit him?”
V’lar substantiated a simulation of the event in the Hololith, rewinding the event and isolating the toxin. “This data packet carried the toxin, the unit accessed the data moments before critical failure.”
They watched as the simulation traced the killshot backwards in time. Tracing the toxic signal leap from an antenna in the train car, through the tunnel network and out into the city of concrete. Weaving through tower after tower before disappearing as a stream of photons rushing under the ocean, leaving Sector 9 entirely and entering Sector 101.”
The holoilth spun. The Map shifted from the dark tunnels of Tokyo to the sun-drenched concrete canyons of New York City.
TARGET: THE EXCHANGE (WALL STREET).
"Here," Zyd pointed. "The kill order came from this structure."
She zoomed in. It was a massive stone enclosure. A Temple. Inside, the acoustics were even louder than the subway. But this was not the mechanical grinding of wheels. This was the screaming of Priests.
"Analysis," Ky'rell ordered.
"I see thousands of high-status subjects" Zyd said, reading the telemetry. "They are wearing identical ceremonial robes—synthetic suits. They are screaming at a totem."
She pointed to the massive digital boards circling the room. "They are watching the Runes. When the numbers turn Green, the priests weep with joy. When the numbers turn Red, they scream in terror."
"What are they building?" V'lar asked. "I see no manufacturing. No grain is being moved. No steel is being forged."
"Nothing," Zyd realized. "They are trading promises. They are betting on the future labour of units they have never met."
She synchronized the timeline. A bell rang in the Temple. A "Call to Prayer."
On the floor, a specific group of Priests began frantic hand gestures. They were casting a spell. a massive sell-off.
"There," Zyd said, freezing the frame. "The Hex."
"A hex?" Ky'rell asked.
"They cast a 'Correction'," Zyd said, her voice trembling.
“It appears this species has devised a method of storing accumulated labour, creating a stockpile of intangible value. They call it “investments,”. V’lar said.
"Commander, look at the asset class Subject 894-B was invested in. It wasn't manufacturing. It wasn't transport.”
She magnified the red data stream hemorrhaging from his portfolio.
SECTOR: NORTH AMERICAN BIO-SYNTHETICS & PHARMA. TICKER: MED-CORP. CHANGE: -34% VALUATION.
"He was betting on his own repair," V'lar noted. "He keyed his future survival to the profitability of the industry designed to keep him alive."
"But why the drop?" Ky'rell asked. "Did the industry fail? Did a factory explode?"
"Negative," Zyd analyzed the metadata from the Exchange. "The sell-off was triggered by an algorithmic projection. A 'Wellness Warning'."
"Explain."
"The algorithm detected a statistical drop in seasonal illness in Sector 4," Zyd said, horrified. "The population is currently... too healthy. Healthy units do not consume pharmaceuticals. The Priests in New York realized that 'Patient Recovery' would hurt quarterly revenue, so they punished the stock."
Zyd looked down at the dead man on V’lar’s hololith. "Predation detected…He died because the market determined that curing people wasn't profitable enough. The subjects' accumulated stores of labour were deleted as a result. This led to biological overload….death."
“Toxin identified, it wasn't a physical or chemical attack. It was ideological,” V’lar said. “Upon cognition of the hex, the subject's biology entered a panicked state and chose shut down over future labour….Commander?”
Silence filled the space around them. "Ideological?" Zyd questioned, feeling her servo calibration drift.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Trace that sector," Ky'rell ordered, his voice cold. "We need to understand this labour accumulation cycle. We need to understand the situation at the pharmaceutical provider, I want to see the factory floor. How is this hex affecting production? Follow the data stream to the nearest distribution node."
Zyd traced the red line from the dead man's phone, out of the subway, through database after database and locked onto a massive concrete structure worlds away.
TARGET ACQUIRED: SECTOR 62 MEDICAL TRIAGE UNIT.
"Let's see how they manage distribution," Zyd said.
LOG 1.0 END.