---
The elevator doors opened with a soft chime.
Evelyn stepped out, her heels silent on the polished floor. Her badge read Elena Voss. Her face was unfamiliar, even to herself. The system had done its job well — new identity, new history, new fingerprints. She was a ghost with a desk.
ValeTech's 47th floor buzzed with quiet urgency. Glass walls, soft lighting, and the low hum of machines. It looked the same as before. But Evelyn saw the difference.
She saw the system.
People moved like code — efficient, predictable, optimized. Behind every conversation, she glimpsed faint overlays: decision trees, emotional scores, micro-delays in speech. The Sloth Protocol wasn't just running the building. It was running them.
She passed a man in a navy suit. His overlay flickered:
> Confidence: 68%
> Predicted Outcome: Promotion in 3.2 weeks
> Risk Factor: Low
She blinked. It vanished.
"Still tuning in?" Milo's voice buzzed in her ear, invisible to everyone else.
"I don't know what I'm seeing," she murmured.
"You're seeing what they can't. That's the point."
---
Her desk was in a quiet corner, near the analytics division. A screen, a chair, a view of the city. She sat, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The system had already assigned her a task — internal audit, predictive behavior models, low-level access.
Perfect.
She began to work.
---
Later that morning, she met someone new.
A woman with silver-streaked hair and eyes like polished glass approached her desk.
"You're the new analyst?" she asked.
Evelyn nodded. "Elena Voss."
"Dr. Lira Venn," the woman said. "Neuro-interface division."
They shook hands. Lira's grip was firm, her gaze unblinking.
"You don't blink much," she said.
Evelyn offered a faint smile. "I get that a lot."
Lira tilted her head. "You see things, don't you?"
Evelyn hesitated. "What kind of things?"
"Patterns. Loops. The way the system breathes."
Evelyn said nothing.
Lira nodded. "Good. You'll do fine here."
---
Lunch was quiet.
Evelyn sat alone in the break room, stirring her tea. The hum of the vending machine filled the silence.
A voice broke through.
"You always sit here?"
She looked up.
A young man stood by the coffee machine — curly hair, wide eyes, a little too much nervous energy.
"Tomi," he said, offering a hand.
"Elena."
He smiled. "You're new, right?"
"Started yesterday."
"Ah. That explains the mystery."
She raised an eyebrow. "Mystery?"
"You've got that look. Like you're trying to decode the building."
Evelyn didn't answer.
Tomi grabbed a cup, then leaned against the counter. "Want me to bring you up to speed?"
She shrugged. "Sure."
"Well, Nova Quinn — our very own ice queen — is dying to land a contract with Virex Systems."
Evelyn stirred her tea. "Why?"
"Because if she gets it, ValeTech goes global. Big deal. Big pressure."
He paused. "And the guy she needs to impress? Ash Calder."
The name hung in the air.
Evelyn looked up. "Who's that?"
"CEO of Virex. Doesn't do interviews. Doesn't do handshakes. Just builds things and disappears."
She nodded slowly. "Sounds… difficult."
Tomi smirked. "Nova calls him 'the signature she can't forge.'"
Evelyn didn't react.
But the name lingered.
---
That evening, Evelyn lingered in the hallway after the strategy session.
Nova's voice had been sharp, focused. The name Ash Calder had dropped like a stone in water — no reaction, no ripple. But it stayed.
Evelyn leaned against the wall, watching the city through the glass.
Tomi passed by, offered a quiet wave.
She nodded back.
---
That night, Evelyn walked home through the city.
The lights blurred. The air buzzed.
She passed a storefront window and caught a flicker — a line of code trailing a woman's footsteps.
She turned.
The woman was gone.
Milo whispered, "You're tuned in deeper than they'll ever be."
Evelyn whispered back, "I know."
A butterfly — tiny, glowing blue — hovered near a lamppost.
It pulsed once.
Then vanished.