Noah's apartment was a tomb of shadows. The single bulb overhead buzzed, casting a sickly yellow glow over cracked walls. Outside, New Eden's skyline glittered—towers of glass and steel where the elites lived, far above the slums' grime. Noah sat on his lumpy mattress, the data-stick from the market still in his hand. Its red light blinked like a warning. That memory—Senator Moore's murder, blood on the floor—clawed at his mind. It wasn't real. It couldn't be. But his gut screamed otherwise.
He tossed the stick onto the table and rubbed his eyes. Sleep was a lost cause tonight. The city's hum seeped through the window—drones, holo-ads, distant screams. Noah's gaze drifted to a photo taped to the wall. Him and Lila, ten years ago. She was smiling, her dark hair catching the sunlight. He was laughing, one arm around her. They were kids then, before NeuroVault tore their world apart.
Lila. His sister. His ghost. Noah's chest tightened. He could still hear her voice, soft and teasing. *"You're gonna save the world, big brother."* She'd believed in him. Believed in his work at NeuroVault, back when he thought memory tech could heal people. What a joke. He hadn't saved her. He'd killed her.
The memory hit without warning, sharp as a blade. He was back in NeuroVault's lab, the air thick with antiseptic. Machines hummed, their screens glowing with brain scans. Noah, twenty-five and cocky, adjusted a NeuroVault headset on Lila's temples. She'd volunteered for the trial—early memory extraction, a way to erase her trauma from their parents' death. Noah had promised it was safe.
"It's gonna be okay, Lila," he'd said, forcing a smile. His voice cracked, but he hid it. "You'll feel better after this."
Lila's eyes were wide, trusting. "You sure, Noah? This thing looks like it's gonna fry my brain." She laughed, but it was nervous.
Dr. Kellan Mier, Noah's mentor, stood nearby, scribbling on a data-pad. His sharp features were calm, too calm. "It's perfectly safe, Lila," Kellan said, not looking up. "Noah's tech is flawless. You're in good hands."
Noah's stomach churned now, remembering those words. Flawless. What a lie. He'd trusted Kellan, the brilliant scientist who'd taken him under his wing. Kellan was family back then—or so Noah thought. They'd spent nights dreaming up NeuroVault's future, a world where pain could be erased. Noah was too young, too naive, to see the greed in Kellan's eyes.
In the memory, the machine whirred to life. Lila gripped the chair's arms. "Noah," she whispered, "don't let me forget you, okay?"
"Never," he'd promised, his throat tight. He hit the start button.
The lab exploded in red light. Alarms blared. Lila screamed, her body jerking against the restraints. Noah lunged for the controls, but Kellan grabbed his arm. "Wait!" Kellan shouted. "It's stabilizing!"
"She's dying!" Noah yelled, shoving him away. He tore the headset off Lila, but it was too late. Her eyes were blank, her breathing gone. The monitors flatlined.
Noah had fallen to his knees, sobbing her name. Kellan stood over him, cold as ice. "It was a risk we knew," he'd said. "She signed the waiver."
Noah's hands clenched now, nails digging into his palms. The apartment snapped back into focus, the memory fading but the pain staying. Lila was gone because of him. Because he'd trusted Kellan. Because he'd built the damn machine.
He stood, pacing the tiny room. The data-stick mocked him from the table. Why was he thinking of Lila now? That memory file—Moore's murder—had nothing to do with her. Or did it? NeuroVault was everywhere, its claws in everything. If someone had faked a future memory, Kellan would know. He ran NeuroVault now, a king in his tower, profiting off the poor's misery.
Noah's eyes flicked to his NeuroVault reader, the clunky device humming faintly. He shouldn't dig deeper. He should burn the stick and walk away. But Lila's voice echoed in his head. *"Save the world, big brother."* He wasn't that guy anymore, but maybe he could stop whatever this was.
He grabbed his coat and headed for the door, but a knock stopped him cold. Nobody visited him. Ever. His hand slid to the knife in his boot. "Who's there?" he called, voice low.
"It's me," a woman's voice answered, sharp and urgent. "Open the door, Noah. We need to talk."
He cracked the door, knife ready. A woman stood in the hallway, her hood up, eyes scanning the shadows. She was young, maybe late twenties, with short black hair and a scar across her cheek. Her jacket was patched, but her boots were high-end—hacker gear. Noah's grip on the knife tightened. "Who the hell are you?"
"Name's Alina," she said, pushing past him into the apartment. She moved like she owned the place, her eyes darting to the data-stick on the table. "You got my message."
Noah shut the door, his pulse racing. "The data-stick? That was you?"
"Yeah." Alina pulled off her hood, revealing a face that was all angles and defiance. "My brother sent it before he died. Said you'd know what to do."
"Your brother?" Noah's mind spun. "Lady, I don't know you or your brother. Start talking, or you're out."
Alina's jaw clenched, but her eyes softened, just a fraction. "His name was Jace. He worked for NeuroVault. Something went wrong—a memory wipe. He started seeing things. Things that hadn't happened yet." She paused, her voice breaking. "He said you were the only one he trusted."
Noah's blood went cold. Jace. The name didn't ring a bell, but her words did. Seeing things that hadn't happened yet. Like the memory of Moore's murder. His hand slipped from the knife, but he kept his distance. "Why me?"
Alina stepped closer, her voice dropping. "Because you built NeuroVault, Noah Virek. You know what it can do. And what it can't." She pointed at the data-stick. "That memory? It's not a fake. It's real. And if we don't figure out why, more people are gonna die."
Noah stared at her, his heart pounding. Lila's face flashed in his mind—her trust, her death. He'd sworn never to touch NeuroVault again. But this—Alina, the stick, the murder—felt like a thread pulling him back. Back to the past he couldn't escape.
"Get out," he said, his voice rough. "I'm not your guy."
Alina didn't move. "You're scared. I get it. But Jace trusted you. And I'm not leaving till you help me." She crossed her arms, her scar catching the light. "So, what's it gonna be?"
Noah's hands shook. He wanted to throw her out, to forget the stick, to bury Lila's memory for good. But he couldn't. Not yet.
"Sit down," he muttered, pointing to a chair. "And start from the beginning."
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