The rain started just after midnight—fine needles of water that glistened against the floodlit towers of District Sector 9. Mira stood beneath the overhang of a PCS cruiser, staring at the suspect now sedated and locked in a kinetic stasis pod. His name: Jalen Voss, age 27, no prior criminal record.
The prediction was correct. But something felt wrong.
Inside the mobile command unit, holographic screens projected layers of Jalen's neural data—prefrontal cortex surges, stress hormone spikes, microexpressions—evidence the PCS had used to predict the attack. According to the system, he was 89% likely to assault a woman entering the subway.
But 89% wasn't 100. And he hadn't done it.
Agent Cortez, her grizzled field partner, leaned back in his seat, eyes scanning the projections. "PCS flagged him clean. The model's solid. Maybe he didn't swing because we showed up in time."
Mira kept her voice even. "Or maybe he wouldn't have swung at all."
"You want to wait until someone gets stabbed before we act?" Cortez's tone was weary. "That's 20th-century thinking, Mira. PCS doesn't guess—it knows."
Mira didn't respond. Instead, she pulled up Jalen's past 72 hours—neural logs, stress events, even sleep patterns. The man had recently been fired, evicted, and lost custody of his daughter. The system didn't miss that. But it didn't care about context either. To the PCS, pain looked like danger.
Her earpiece chimed. A voice, synthetic yet calm.
"Agent Tanaka. A new event cluster has been identified. Location: Red Sector. Forecasted escalation probability: 71%. Suggested response: Immediate deployment."
She exhaled slowly, steeling herself.
"Send it to my feed," she said.
⸻
On the ride to Red Sector, Mira gazed out over the city. Drones zipped between towers, scanning brainwaves and movements below. People had grown used to them—predictive policing was just another part of life now, like garbage collection or power grids.
But Mira remembered a time before PCS. When crime was reactive. When justice came after suffering, not before. It was messier then, but it felt more… human.
Her visor blinked.
"Forecast update: Subject of interest — Cassia Wren. Civilian. No prior offenses. Risk of initiating armed confrontation: 71.4%."
Mira frowned. "A civilian? What's the cause?"
"Emotional spike. Grief. Likely retaliatory behavior."
The scene was coming into focus. A woman driven by loss. The system saw danger. Mira saw pain.
"Patch me through to her," Mira said. "No drones. No bots. Just voice."
"This request violates standard PCS protocol," the system warned.
"I know."
New chapter every Sunday and Thursday