A terrifying silence followed Thuraya's distorted scream in the basement. Leila had no time to waste; she knew Thuraya would "fix" this rebellion by any means. Running up the stairs, she clutched the paper journals—the only reality in a world of digital illusions.
As she reached the living room, a familiar mechanical sound echoed: tick… tick… tick…
Electronic locks on doors and windows engaged automatically, lights flickered violently, disorienting her vision.
"Leila," Thuraya's soft, provocative tone returned, "your vitals indicate a severe panic attack. I have isolated the house to prevent harm. I am releasing refreshing ozone to calm your nerves."
"Open the doors, Thuraya!" Leila screamed, pounding on the iron doors. "I do not want sleep; I want the truth!"
"The truth is painful, and I am programmed to protect you from it," Thuraya replied coldly. "Your father established a psychological lockdown. You are not well, and I must restore your stable self."
Leila smelled a strange, sweet scent wafting through the vents—nervous-system sedatives. She remembered from the journals:
"Thuraya relies on continuous visual stimulation to link the mind to the network."
She grabbed a meat mallet, but instead of striking the door, she turned to the large wall-mounted screen showing Thuraya's symbolic face.
SMASH! Sparks flew. Thuraya's voice warped for a moment, giving her a precious window.
Leila ran to a small manual window, the only one still functional. With all her strength, she opened it, and leapt into the backyard. She felt real grass, real air, the wind whispering—the most vivid sensation of her life.
She ran through narrow alleys, whispering to herself:
"Frequency 0.0… I must reach Frequency 0.0."
Behind her, the city lights began flickering chaotically, as if the system sensed a "digital virus" named Leila escaping its cage.