Noah's apartment felt smaller with Alina in it. The air was thick, heavy with the hum of the city outside and the weight of her words. She sat across from him at the cracked table, her scarred face lit by the faint glow of the NeuroVault reader. The data-stick blinked between them, its red light pulsing like a heartbeat. Noah's hands itched to smash it, to end this before it started. But Alina's eyes—sharp, desperate, grieving—kept him rooted.
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "You're telling me your brother saw the future?" His voice was rough, skeptical. "That's not how NeuroVault works. Memories come from the past. Always."
Alina's jaw tightened. "I know how it's *supposed* to work, Noah. I'm a hacker, not an idiot." She tapped the data-stick, her fingers trembling. "Jace wasn't crazy. He sent me this before they wiped him. Said it was proof."
Noah's stomach twisted. Wiped. He'd seen what NeuroVault's wipes did—people turned into shells, their eyes empty. Like Lila, after the machine took her. He pushed the thought down, focusing on Alina. "Proof of what?"
She met his gaze, unflinching. "That NeuroVault's hiding something. Something big. Jace said they were experimenting—pulling memories that hadn't happened yet." Her voice cracked. "He saw things, Noah. Things that came true."
Noah's mind raced. Predictive memories? Impossible. NeuroVault tech mapped neural pathways, extracted what was already there. The future wasn't in your brain. But that memory file—Senator Moore's murder, two weeks from now—felt too real. The blood, the rain, Moore's fear. It wasn't like any fake he'd seen.
He grabbed the NeuroVault reader, its metal edges cold against his palm. "Fine," he muttered. "Let's see it again. All of it."
Alina's eyes widened. "You're gonna watch it? Now?"
"You want my help?" Noah snapped. "Then I need to know what I'm dealing with." He plugged the data-stick in, the reader whirring to life. His heart pounded. He didn't want to dive back into that memory, but he had to. For Lila. For answers.
Alina leaned closer, her breath quick. "Be careful, Noah. Jace said it… changes you."
Noah ignored her, slipping the reader's neural band over his temples. The device hummed, linking to his brain. The room faded, and the memory swallowed him whole.
He was in a dark office, rain hammering the windows. The air smelled of ozone and blood. Senator Moore stood by a desk, his suit pristine but his face pale. Noah's perspective shifted—he was someone else, holding a knife. The blade gleamed, slick with red. Moore turned, his eyes wide with terror. "You can't do this," he gasped. "They'll find you."
The knife moved, fast. Moore choked, blood spilling down his shirt. He fell, and the memory flickered—new details this time. A holo-screen on the desk showed a NeuroVault logo. A voice, distorted, whispered, "The future is ours." Then, a street sign outside the window: *Eden's Crossing, 7th District*. The memory cut to static.
Noah ripped off the neural band, gasping. His hands shook, sweat beading on his forehead. The apartment snapped back—Alina staring, the reader humming, the city's neon glow outside. "Holy hell," he whispered.
"What did you see?" Alina's voice was urgent, her hands gripping the table. "Was it the same?"
Noah swallowed, his throat dry. "Mostly. Moore's murder. A knife. Blood. But there was more. A NeuroVault screen. A voice. And a street sign—Eden's Crossing." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself. "That's in the elite district. Two weeks from now."
Alina's face paled. "Jace mentioned Eden's Crossing. Said it was where they took him for the experiments." She stood, pacing the tiny room. "Noah, this is real. My brother died for this."
Noah's mind spun. Eden's Crossing was where the rich lived—towers of glass, guarded by drones. If Moore was killed there, it wasn't some slum hit. This was planned. And NeuroVault's logo in the memory? That wasn't a coincidence. Kellan's face flashed in his mind—his old friend, now a corporate king. Was he behind this?
He stood, grabbing his coat. "We need to check that street. See if it matches."
Alina froze. "Now? It's the middle of the night!"
"You want answers?" Noah said, his voice hard. "We go tonight. Before whoever sent this comes looking." He didn't say it out loud, but he felt it: danger closing in, like a noose tightening.
Alina hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. But we're not walking into this blind." She pulled a small device from her jacket—a holo-pad, hacker-grade. "I can tap into the district's cameras. See if anything's off."
Noah raised an eyebrow. "You're full of surprises."
She smirked, but it was shaky. "You have no idea."
They left the apartment, slipping into the slums' alleys. The air was thick with smog, the neon signs buzzing overhead. Noah's boots splashed through puddles, his mind racing. The memory felt like a trap, but he couldn't stop. Lila's death had broken him, left him running from the past. Now, the future was pulling him back.
As they reached the mag-train station, Alina spoke, her voice low. "Noah, why'd you quit NeuroVault? Jace said you were the best. Then you just… vanished."
Noah's chest tightened. He saw Lila's blank eyes, heard her scream. "Doesn't matter," he said, looking away. "I'm not that guy anymore."
Alina grabbed his arm, stopping him. "It matters to me. If we're doing this, I need to know you won't bail." Her eyes searched his, fierce but scared. "What happened?"
Noah pulled free, his voice cold. "I lost someone. That's all you need to know." He stepped onto the train platform, the hum of the arriving mag-train drowning out her reply.
Inside the train, they sat in silence, the city's lights blurring past. Noah's reflection stared back from the window—a man with tired eyes, haunted by ghosts. He thought of Lila, her trust in him. He'd failed her. But this memory, this murder—it was a chance to make things right. Or die trying.
Alina fiddled with her holo-pad, her fingers shaking. "Jace was all I had," she said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper. "When they wiped him, I swore I'd burn NeuroVault down. You ever feel like that, Noah? Like you'd do anything to fix the past?"
Noah's throat burned. "Yeah," he said, his voice rough. "Every damn day."
She looked at him, her scar catching the train's light. "Then let's do this. For Jace. For whoever you lost."
Noah nodded, the weight of her words settling in his chest. The train sped toward Eden's Crossing, toward answers—or a trap. Either way, there was no going back.
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