Mara’s boots echoed against the steel floor of the vault, a sound that always felt too loud in the sterile silence. The air smelled of ozone and old data, a metallic tang that clung to her throat. She adjusted the collar of her jacket, fingers brushing the small chip embedded beneath her skin—a relic from the old days, before the company streamlined everything. Her breath fogged in the cold, and she exhaled slowly, watching it vanish into the dim glow of the overhead lights. The vault hummed, a low vibration that rattled her bones. She didn’t trust it. No one did.
The terminal blinked at her, its screen casting blue shadows across her face. Mara tapped the code into the keypad—her own, the one she’d memorized years ago when the system was still human. The door hissed open, releasing a rush of stale air that smelled like dust and forgotten dreams. Inside, the rows of memory pods lined the walls, their glass casings slick with condensation. Each held a life, a moment, a story stolen from someone’s mind and sold to the highest bidder.
She moved quickly, her gloved hands brushing the cool surface of a pod. The name on the label was familiar—Lena Voss. A teacher, once. Her memory had been in high demand last week, a nostalgic trip for a man who’d paid three times his monthly wage. Mara pulled the pod free, feeling the weight of it in her hands. The data chip inside pulsed faintly, a heartbeat of its own. She slid it into the reader on her wrist, and the screen flickered to life.
The image was wrong.
Mara frowned. The memory wasn’t Lena’s. It was someone else’s—someone she didn’t recognize. The visuals were garbled, static bleeding into the edges of the scene. A cityscape, but not Neonova. Too dark, too still. Then a figure emerged from the shadows, their face obscured by a hood. The memory cut out abruptly, leaving her with a hollow ache in her chest.
She pulled the chip free and stared at it. Something wasn’t right. The system shouldn’t have mixed the data. Not unless someone had tampered with it. Her pulse quickened. If the company was altering memories, what else were they hiding?
The door hissed behind her. Mara spun, her hand flying to the small blade tucked into her belt. A man stood in the threshold, his face half-hidden by the shadows. He didn’t speak, but his eyes locked onto the chip in her hand. She took a step back, heart slamming against her ribs.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “This place isn’t safe.”
Mara tightened her grip on the blade. “Who are you?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he stepped forward, his boots echoing in the empty space. The lights flickered overhead, casting jagged shadows across his face. She saw now that he was older, his features worn by time and something else—something she couldn’t name. His eyes were sharp, too sharp, like he’d seen too much.
“They’re watching,” he said. “And they’re not just taking memories anymore. They’re rewriting them.”
Mara’s breath caught. “What does that mean?”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small device—a scanner, maybe, or a weapon. She didn’t know which. The air between them crackled with tension, the silence thick enough to choke on.
Then the alarms started.
Sirens wailed through the vault, their shrill cries bouncing off the steel walls. Mara’s eyes darted to the door, but the man was already moving. He grabbed her arm, his grip firm, and pulled her toward the exit. “Run,” he said, his voice urgent. “Before they find you.”
She didn’t hesitate. They burst into the corridor, the sound of footsteps pounding behind them. The city outside was a blur of neon and shadow, but Mara didn’t stop. She ran, her breath ragged, the chip still clutched in her hand. Whatever had just happened, she knew one thing for certain—this wasn’t just about memories anymore.
It was about control.
