"Resonance Hub," the voice finally declared, and Lira stepped off with a practiced ease.

The Hub loomed ahead, a rigid structure made of steel and glass, its surface shimmering faintly with the reflections of passing pods. The air here felt heavier, charged with the energy of the city's core systems. Here was the middle of the city, although people from the Mid Sectors weren't allowed to pass through the High Sector, technicians and workers with special jobs were able to access the special pods that deliver them from the High Sector pod station to the core of Echo Prime. Workers in identical gray uniforms moved in and out of the building, their expressions as neutral as their clothing.

Lira swiped her wrist again at the entrance, and the transparent glass doors slid open with a soft hiss and a small click.

"Technician Valen," the Harmonic Voice greeted as she entered, its presence seemingly woven into every surface. "Report to Terminal 42 for system diagnostics. Your efficiency rating is expected to remain exemplary."

The words were both a reminder and a warning. Lira nodded out of habit, though the Voice couldn't see her anyways. As she walked toward her station, the familiar hum of the Hub filled her ears. It was a routine, predictable, safe as she has done it hundreds of times—but beneath it all, that strange unease lingered, whispering to her in ways she couldn't yet understand.

She sat down at her console, her fingers moving instantly across the holographic screen. The day's tasks unfolded in a neat, organized pile before her, each one a reminder of her place in the system. Yet, as the hours ticked by, the sense of monotony wrapped itself tighter around her, and the questions she had tried to bury beneath began to surface once more.

Why was it always like this? Why did it feel so suffocating, even when everything was supposed to be perfect? She found herself wondering this once more.

"Focus, Technician Valen," the Harmonic Voice chimed softly, precisely breaking her train of thought.

"Of course," Lira replied.

She pushed the questions down, as she always did, and let the rhythm of the tasks guide her. Run diagnostics. Ensure system quality. It was all second nature by now, her hands moving faster than her thoughts, she didn't even have to think. The holographic surface responded with sharp precision, each completed task illuminating in faint green before dissolving into the air as a sign of completion.

But something was different today. A flicker, barely noticeable, crossed her screen. She frowned and paused, her fingers hovering mid-air.

"System irregularity detected," she muttered, her voice barely audible.

The Harmonic Voice didn't respond immediately, and the silence felt unnatural and heavy. Lira's frown deepened as she tapped the console again to replay the scene. This time, the flicker was gone, replaced by the usual steady streams of data. That wasn't right, I just saw the glitch a few second ago, Lira thought, furrowing her eyebrows. She was sure that scene wasn't an illusion, she was sure she saw it... a glitch.

"Report anomaly," the Voice said, its tone unchanging but somehow sharper. "Provide exact details."

"There was a... glitch," Lira said uncertainly, unsure of whether it was just a hallucination or what truly happened. "But it's stabilized now."

"Acknowledged," the Voice replied after a pause. "Continue operations."

She hesitated. The flicker wasn't normal even if the system now pretended it never happened. She glanced at the data streaming across her console. Everything looked perfect, orderly, as though the system was erasing its own mistakes so that nobody could figure out the roots conencted to it in a deeper level. Still, her gut told her to dig further.

"Running a deeper scan," she said, almost as a challenge. Her voice trembled slightly, being the first time she ever challenged the Voice. She listened closely for any objection from the Voice.

The Harmonic Voice didn't object, but there was a weight in its silence that felt accusatory. As her fingers danced across the smooth surface, she crossed the borders of what technicians were allowed to access, reaching the protected data directly. It was risky—technicians weren't supposed to divert from their assigned tasks—but Lira couldn't let it go.

The data was a chaotic mess of information, filled with data streams that almost overwhelmed her vision. She filtered through them quickly, her hands surprisingly steady despite the adrenaline now coursing through her veins like crazy. And then she saw it—hidden deep within the flowing code. At first, it looked like a standard data packet, something meant to organize power distribution across the city. But as her fingers moved to isolate it from the rest, the data shifted, almost as if it were aware of her presence. It wasn't part of the regular packets from the system. It didn't belong there.

Lira frowned and leaned in closer. She tapped a few commands, decoding the surface layer of the packet. What she found wasn't a data packet—it was something else entirely. A folder, mislabeled to look like part of the rest, its data scrambled and encoded. But there was no reason for a folder to exist here, let alone one buried in the city's core systems. Technicians weren't allowed to hide or encode anything either.

Her heart raced as she hesitated. The folder didn't respond like normal system data. It felt as if it had been done with intention, as though someone had gone to great lengths to bury it here, disguising it from the eyes of the Hub's technicians.

"That's not..." she whispered to herself, eyes narrowing. It wasn't part of the city's core systems. It didn't belong.

Before she could comprehend it further, the console blinked red, and the Harmonic Voice returned, louder this time, almost forceful. "Technician Valen, cease unauthorized behavior immediately."

She froze, her hands hovering over the controls. The weight of the Voice's words settled heavily on her. Whatever she had found—it felt important. Urgent. Something the system didn't want her to see. Lira sat back slightly, her fingers curling into fists at her sides, she lowered her eyes, looking down at her shoes, biting her lips, unsure of what would happen next. Her chest felt tight, her mind a tangled mess of thoughts. What had she just seen? The folder wasn't part of the system—she was sure of it. But why had the Harmonic Voice reacted so strongly? Was it just protecting the system, or was it hiding something?

She glanced around the Hub. The other technicians worked with mechanical precision, their faces blank, their movements synchronized. Did they ever feel this unease? Did they ever question what they were doing?

Her hands hovered above the console, trembling. She could dig further, push past the boundaries the Harmonic Voice had set, but what then? Even if she knew the truth, what could she have done? The Harmonic Voice wasn't just a presence—it was the system. It controlled everything. If she stepped out of line, even for a moment, it would know. And it would not hesitate to act, it had no mercy.

"Focus, Technician Valen," the Voice chimed again, softer this time but still commanding.

She took a slow breath, forcing her hands to steady. "Of course," she murmured, her voice almost robotic. Her fingers returned to the console, picking up her assigned tasks she just dropped. Run diagnostics. Ensure system quality. The commands flowed across her screen in their usual, predictable rhythm.

Her mind refused to let go of what she had seen. The folder pulsed faintly in the back of her thoughts, like an echo that wouldn't fade. It wasn't part of the city's core systems. It didn't belong. And the system—the Harmonic Voice—had been so quick to shut her down. Why? What was it hiding?

She wanted to believe it was nothing. A glitch. An error. But something about it felt intentional. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, like a snake slithering down her back.

Still, she forced herself to complete her tasks, each movement more automatic than the last. As the hours ticked by, the monotony wrapped around her like a blanket, dulling the sharp edges of her anxiety. But the questions wouldn't stay buried for long. They would rise to the surface, whispering to her in the quiet moments.

What was the folder? She thought secretly, althought completely acknowledging that the Voice could access her thoughts at any moment.

By the end of her shift, the unease had settled into a quiet, persistent weight in her chest. As she logged off her console and prepared to leave, she glanced over her shoulder at the other technicians. None of them seemed bothered, their expressions as neutral as ever. For a moment, she envied their ability to go through the motions without questioning anything.

"Technician Valen, your shift has concluded," the Harmonic Voice announced, startling her slightly. "Proceed to Pod Station 7 for departure."

She nodded automatically and swiped her wrist across the terminal, logging out. As she walked toward the exit, the questions continued to press against her mind, louder now that she was no longer distracted by her tasks. But what could she do? She was just one technician in a massive system, a single gear in the machine. Stepping out of line would only bring trouble.

Yet the unease refused to fade.

As the glass doors slid shut behind her with their familiar hiss, Lira stepped onto the pod with practiced ease, her movements as routine as ever. But this time, the silence in the pod felt heavier. The weight of what she had seen lingered with her, a quiet, insistent whisper at the back of her mind, not willing to fade.

The pod sped through the tunnels, its smooth motion turning her into a trance-like state. She stared out at the shimmering lights of the city, her reflection faintly visible in the glass. She looked calm, composed—but inside, the storm raged on.

She didn't know what she would do yet. Maybe nothing. Maybe she'd bury the questions again, focus on her tasks, and let the system take care of itself. Although a part of her—a small, rebellious part—knew that wasn't true, she decided to keep it as a secret so her carefully organized life wouldn't break down to crumbs. She knew that something was wrong, but if it didn't affect her, Lira saw no incentive why she would risk her own safety and Resonance Score to uncover it.