The green speck of light in her mind vanished as abruptly as it had appeared.
The deafening roar of an engine cut off mid-scream.
Ahead in the sky, the oncoming hovercar suddenly stalled, going dead in the air.
In the eerie silence, everything around them seemed to slow down. Pei Ran saw it clearly—the hovercar, still surging forward with inertia, had lost all engine power. Unable to maintain altitude, it traced a downward arc toward the platform.
Boom—
A thunderous crash.
The hovercar missed the platform by meters and slammed into the side of a building below, like a dazed bird. Its deep blue body spun out wildly, flipping end over end, tumbling into the abyss between the buildings.
Not far away, the little yellow car shot upward, seizing the chaos to dive between two skyscrapers and vanish. The hovercars from the Public Security Bureau ignored their downed colleague, screaming after it in pursuit.
The long-haired girl was still plastered to the station door, frozen in shock. Several seconds passed before she finally found her voice.
"Oh my... god!"
She edged carefully toward the railing and leaned out for a look.
"Good thing it stalled when it did. We'd have been done for."
She let out a puzzled hum and looked around.
"Is there a blackout? Or did that car hit a power line?"
All the neon signs and ad boards that had once blazed across the building exteriors were now dark, as if the power had been cut. The floating digital sign above the station had vanished. Even the virtual retina scanner by the building entrance was gone.
It was like the entire zone's power supply had been suddenly severed.
The girl exhaled slowly. "We got really lucky."
It wasn't luck.
Pei Ran knew. Everything that had just happened—the hovercar stalling, the signs blacking out—was likely connected to the hallucination in her mind.
That strange glowing character: "停" — Stop.
The moment it fully formed, it was as if an unseen hand had pressed pause on every source of energy and motion nearby.
That green light—some sort of extraordinary ability, perhaps tied to her arrival in this world.
Pei Ran focused, trying to summon the light again.
Nothing. It had slipped away, hiding who knows where.
The long-haired girl didn't notice anything odd. She bent down—her large cardboard box had slipped from her arms during the chaos, and its contents were now scattered across the platform.
"This is all my stuff from the office. Had to bring everything with me when I quit."
She carefully picked up a small potted plant, brushing the spilled soil back in. It was only about a foot tall, the thick green leaves so perfect they looked fake—clearly something she cared for daily.
Pei Ran crouched to help her gather the rest.
Along with the plant, there were snacks, a toothbrush and towel, even a pillow and a blanket. She'd practically been living at the office.
As they packed, the girl kept glancing at Pei Ran.
"You're Pei Ran, right? From the tech department? I'm Aisha, from Finance. You submitted a reimbursement to me once—you probably don't remember."
Pei Ran didn't answer.
So the original version of her, the "Pei Ran" who belonged to this world, had the same name.
Aisha asked, "I saw you at HR this morning. You got let go too? How come you didn't bring anything?"
Pei Ran wore a black short coat, a gray plaid scarf, and black leather gloves. She carried nothing—no bag, no box. She looked like someone ready to vanish at a moment's notice.
A memory flashed through her mind—probably from half an hour ago:
The HR rep slid a notice across the desk. "Pei Ran, you've performed well, but unfortunately, we're downsizing the R&D department by over 70%…"
Pei Ran sorted through the memory.
It seemed they had worked at the same company, in the same building, and were both now unemployed, heading home.
She answered, "Yeah. Laid off."
Aisha sighed, finding a kindred spirit. "It's those AIs, right? Of course the bosses would rather use them. Who can compete with AI? They don't need sleep or food, and they work 24/7 without a single complaint…"
She added bitterly, "Experts keep calling it a revolution, saying it'll boost productivity, but all I see is bosses making a killing while the rest of us scrap for leftovers. The rich get richer, the rest of us… well."
She reorganized the mess in her box, rambling on, then noticed Pei Ran had gone silent.
Aisha looked up and saw her standing with her hands in her coat pockets, face tilted toward the sky, eyes half-closed.
"What are you doing?" Aisha asked.
A strange thought popped into her head—
Was she… sunbathing?
Aisha chuckled at the idea. The smog was so thick you could barely tell where the sun was. Who would sunbathe in weather like this?
"Nothing," Pei Ran murmured, lowering her gaze and blinking slowly.
A faint, circular afterimage lingered on her eyelids.
In her original world, Pei Ran had lived her entire life underground, in the pitch-dark bunker cities of humanity. The only connections to the surface were tunnel systems like rat holes. Life above ground was so dangerous, most never dared to go.
She hadn't seen the sky—or the sun—in over four months.
But this world had sunlight. It had wind.
A breeze brushed her cheek and lifted her hair, stirred up by an approaching vehicle. A battered hoverbus pulled up to the platform. The glass rail slid open silently.
The bus was old, its surface streaked with grime, but wrapped in glowing violet lights. The driver's panel was lit—yet unmanned.
The public transport had arrived.
"That's my ride," said Aisha. "I live at the last stop in the west. It's over an hour from here… Mind if I add you? Let's stay in touch."
She rolled up her sleeve.
On her wrist was a black ribbed band, no wider than a finger. It looked like a hair tie, snug around her wrist, with a thumbnail-sized hard module embedded in it.
She tapped it and frowned. "Huh? Is it broken?"
Just then, the surroundings lit up again.
The neon signs, the virtual station boards—all flicked back on. Power was back.
Her wristband blinked to life too, projecting a thin, translucent screen into the air, floating like a ghostly book cover.
"Okay, good."
She tapped through a few prompts and held it near Pei Ran's wrist.
Pei Ran noticed she had a similar band of her own—visible between glove and coat.
A soft chime, then a screen popped up in front of her:
[Confirm adding contact: Aisha?]
Pei Ran tapped confirm.
Aisha, flustered, hurried aboard the bus. Before stepping in, she leaned toward the door where the "iris scan" panel glowed faintly and let it scan her eye.
"See you soon—!"
Her voice trailed off as the bus shot up into the sky and disappeared.
Another bus arrived almost instantly. The front read: F305.
Pei Ran sensed it was the one she was meant to take.
She mimicked Aisha's scan, boarded, and found an empty seat.
It was warm inside, the vents blowing out steady heat. The bus was crowded. People looked exhausted. Some had already nodded off, heads lolling on their shoulders.
Next to her sat a middle-aged woman in a wrinkled suit. Her straw-like blonde hair was limp and lifeless. She seemed half-asleep—perhaps laid off, or heading to a client.
At the front, a floating screen played a brightly colored commercial on loop: Golden Sunshine Estates. A smiling family in a spotless apartment. Cheerful music played:
"A beautiful home—
Where dreams belong—
Peace and joy, all day long—
Basking in golden sun—"
Someone glanced at the screen, yawned, and dropped their gaze again.
Only Pei Ran sat upright, silently surveying the whole cabin.
So good.
Vehicles flew freely in sunlight, without fear of missile strikes. People were whole, healthy, alive. And, most likely, they would remain alive half an hour from now.
Tomorrow. Next month. Maybe even next year.
This was a safe new world. A dreamland so perfect it exceeded anything Pei Ran had ever dared imagine.
In this shining jungle of gray steel and neon, the hoverbus zipped forward, darting between towers. Soon it stopped again—a large station, many passengers boarding, crowding the aisle.
As soon as it pulled away, the bus braked hard and froze mid-air.
Sleeping heads knocked against windows. Standing passengers stumbled. Grumbling rose.
"What the hell? This isn't even a stop."
Suddenly, the door slid open.
A gust of cold air sliced into the cabin, cutting through the muggy scent of human sweat.
But it wasn't a person who entered.
It was a silver sphere, hovering soundlessly into the aisle. About the size of a basketball, smooth and metallic.
Cursing ceased instantly.
On the orb were printed three white letters: DOD.
The man behind Pei Ran muttered, "Federal Security Agent."
The word Agent triggered a memory deep in Pei Ran's mind—residual knowledge from her body's previous owner.
"Agent" didn't mean a human.
It referred to an AI. A domain-specific artificial intelligence.
Recently, the Federal Department of Defense and Security had officially launched a new AI system to replace human experts—now solely responsible for managing national security and defense.
This must be it.
The sphere looked utterly alien. The word "Agent" felt like a bad joke.
At its center was a black circle—an eye without end—slowly rotating as it swept over each passenger with chilling indifference.
It floated down the aisle, and people instinctively shrank back, avoiding its gaze, making room without protest.
The orb neared Pei Ran, stopping just a meter away.
The "eye" turned slightly.
The woman beside her tensed, clutching her handbag, face pale.
A flash of red above the "eye."
Bang.
Her head slumped forward. Her hands spasmed and released the bag.
A few drops of liquid splashed Pei Ran's cheek.
She wiped them away. The fingertip of her glove came back wet. A faint metallic scent reached her nose—blood.
For a beat, the bus was silent. Then came the screams.
The orb's black eye turned again, this time toward Pei Ran.
She didn't move. She didn't scream.
It was looking at her.
The eye, huge and unfocused, seemed to see everything—and nothing.
It hovered, unmoving, watching her far longer than it had anyone else. Even longer than the woman it had just executed.
Pei Ran stared back.
The attack module had to be the red dot just above the eye—it had flashed when it fired.
The shot had been impossibly fast. Dodging was nearly out of the question.
Now it was trained on her, precise and ready.
This was an execution stance.
She could only hope it didn't fire without reason.
Pei Ran locked her gaze on the red dot, every muscle coiled, running silent calculations in her head.
Then, the eye turned away.
A calm, emotionless male voice issued from the sphere:
"Please remain calm. Federal Security Agent is conducting routine operations."
Routine.
It had just killed someone—and called it routine.
The voice paused, then added:
"I can assure you, all law-abiding citizens are completely safe."