The morning rays struggled to reach the depths of the city. High above, the sky was streaked with soft hues of dawn, but at the bottom of the vertical metropolis, shadows clung stubbornly. Only the purplish and bluish glow from artificial lights broke the eternal twilight. Ayelen barely registered the muted glide of electric cars on their invisible rails or the quiet sound of the city's constant flow as she walked almost mechanically.

There was a rhythm to Asphodel—a living, breathing pulse that Ayelen had always found strangely comforting. Yet today, it all felt distant. The vibrant pulse of the city thrummed on, indifferent to her turmoil, leaving her feeling like an outsider in the place she called home.

Her steps were soft and measured, her boots tapping gently against the clean pavement. The cool morning air brushed against her face, refreshing but not harsh. She headed toward a place she'd claimed for herself long ago—a sanctuary far removed from the chaos below. The "Sky Garden" one of many scattered across the towering structures of Asphodel, was an oasis of calm amidst the frenetic energy of the city. Suspended between clouds and concrete, it offered a rare glimpse of serenity.

When Ayelen reached the garden's entrance, the soft glow of biosynthetic flora greeted her. The plants, engineered to thrive in the artificial ecosystem, emitted a soothing bioluminescence, their lights casting an ethereal glow. Small ponds scattered throughout reflected the faint glow of overhead drones, which hummed quietly as they maintained the delicate balance of the environment. The air here was different—fresher, untainted by the mechanical beat of the city below.

She settled onto an artificial though realistic stone bench, gazing out at the skyline. The view was breathtaking, a panoramic expanse of shimmering lights and geometric towers that pierced the sky. For a moment, she closed her eyes, willing herself to forget the chaos that had swallowed her life whole—Cedric's coma, the secrets that had unraveled everything, and the looming threat that seemed to grow heavier with each passing day.

Here, in the quiet of the Sky Garden, Ayelen allowed herself to breathe. She scrolled through her LifeLink interface, searching for something familiar. Her fingers hovered over a song she hadn't listened to in ages—"Fragments of Eden" by The Novans. The band had always been ahead of their time, blending synthetic harmonies with raw, human emotion. The music drifted around her, soft and haunting, with vocals that seemed to echo through the garden like whispers in the wind.

The melody spoke of loss and longing, of the tenuous connection between people in a world overwhelmed by technology. It was a reminder of how fragile human bonds could be, even as technology promised to bridge the gaps. Yet, amidst the melancholy, there was a sliver of hope—a belief that, despite everything, there were still things worth holding on to.

As the music washed over her, Ayelen found herself reflecting on the choices she had made, the paths she had walked. Even now, as the world around her seemed to unravel, people clung to meaning, to purpose. She felt the weight of her decisions—every step forward, every piece of the puzzle she uncovered, seemed to lead to deeper, darker secrets.

Her LifeLink vibrated gently on her wrist, interrupting her thoughts. The song softened as an incoming holo message appeared in her peripheral vision. With a swipe, she opened the notification.

Mira Renfield's face appeared before her, flickering slightly in the dim light of the garden. Mira was that co-worker who usually sat beside her in the office, and despite Ayelen's usual distant manners, they had come to develop something close to a friendship. The woman now looked tired, her usually composed expression softened by concern.

"Ayelen, hey," Mira began, her voice warm but strained. "I've been trying to reach you for days. I heard about Cedric. I didn't want to overwhelm you, but... if you need anything, anything at all, just reach out, okay?"

She paused, running a hand through her disheveled hair. "We miss you at the office. I miss you. But more than that, please don't disappear on me. You don't have to go through this alone. I care about you."

Mira's image flickered once more before dissolving into the air. The message left Ayelen feeling more unsettled than before, her solitude no longer as comforting. She stared at the spot where Mira's hologram had been, the weight of her reality pressing down on her. Mira's words lingered, piercing the emotional walls Ayelen had constructed around herself.

But what could Mira do for her? What could anyone do? Ayelen was about to dive deep into secrets she didn't even know how important or dangerous could be. Secrets regarding the past of her family that despite being shadowed and forgotten now, the Sutterfeld name had held a meaningful role and impact in the history of science and Luminara. Now wasn't the time for sentimentality. She couldn't let anyone else in, not with what was at stake. The message dissolved, and the gentle notes of The Novans' song filled the space again. This time, though, the music felt distant, a relic from another life. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. There was no room for distraction. There was only the mission ahead.

On her way home, fatigue pressed against her, but sleep wasn't a luxury she could afford. Time was running out for Cedric, and every second mattered.

Back at her apartment, Ayelen locked herself in her room. No interruptions. No distractions. The soft glow of her holographic interface illuminated the space as she activated her system. She cracked her knuckles and took a deep breath. This was it—the moment she had been preparing for. Dr. Smith's encrypted files were fortified with top-tier security, the kind that only someone as brilliant as Smith would use. Breaking into them would require everything she had.

A tap on her wristpad brought up a custom interface—one she had developed herself, separate from the hospital's network. It was her ace in the hole, a program designed specifically for remote intrusions. She had tested it on Dr. Arya's computer the day before, but Smith was another challenge entirely.

Her hands hovered over the holographic keys, the interface coming to life as the system connected to the hospital's external firewall. It was a high-stakes game—any wrong move could alert Smith or the hospital's security.

"Here we go," she muttered, her fingers dancing across the keys.

The first firewall fell easily, but Ayelen knew better than to relax. Smith was no fool. His defenses were layered with traps, designed to lull intruders into a false sense of security. The system hesitated as it encountered the second layer—a complex web of code that seemed almost alive. She sipped the cold coffee left on her desk, focusing her mind.

Her eyes caught something—a pattern hidden deep within the code. A trap. Smith had anticipated an intruder.

Sweat gathered on her forehead as she worked to reroute the signal, diverting the alert to a decoy server she had set up. For a tense moment, the system seemed to resist, as if it was deciding whether to let her through. Then, with a soft chime, the second firewall crumbled.

"Not bad," she whispered.

She was in.

Ayelen's fingers flew across the keys as she navigated through Smith's files. The folders were deceptively mundane, buried beneath layers of medical reports. But then, she found it—hidden within a nondescript archive, a folder cloaked in encryption. She cracked it open and her screen lit up with confidential research, progress logs, and experimental data.

Her breath caught as she began to read, piecing together the horrifying truth behind Smith's experiments. The puzzle was finally coming together, but with it came a wave of dread. The deeper she dug, the more dangerous this became. But there was no turning back now.

Cedric's life depended on it.

As Ayelen's eyes combed through the documents, she unearthed unsettling truths about Smith's involvement in her father's projects—projects that were a blur from her childhood. The files laid bare Smith's intimate knowledge of the Holodream experiment, and even more disturbingly, his continued development of it after her father's disappearance. It was a chilling realization: more lives had likely been sacrificed in Smith's lab, discarded like vermin, with evidence meticulously hidden from prying eyes.

Unless, of course, someone had the audacity and skill to hack into his computer.

What she had just done.

One file immediately drew her attention: labeled "Shadow," it was double-encrypted. Clearly something of high importance. But her focus shifted as she noticed another folder named "Project Down." Upon opening it, she was met with a series of MRI scan images, each labeled with cryptic numbers. The brains were distinct, with various parts highlighted. Metadata notes described traits and reactions at different stages.

"So these must be the rat labs...I'm going to throw up..."

Suddenly, a new file caught her eye. It was a report about an upcoming expedition—an unremarkable reminder. Smith's habit of documenting every action, a trait her grandfather had shared, proved fortunate for her. Clicking on it, a chill coursed through her as she read the location: her grandfather Hiroshi's old house.

The address seemed hauntingly familiar. After a moment's reflection, memories of her childhood surfaced—of a secluded place she hadn't thought about in years. Who could have predicted its significance? But if Smith was planning a visit, it meant Hiroshi had likely left something crucial related to Holodream behind. This reinforced her suspicion that her grandfather hadn't fully abandoned his life's work.

If Smith had only been working with an incomplete prototype, he was now after the full investigation. If Ayelen was correct, this remote house could be the final resting place of the complete machine. Even if it were damaged, Smith could either repair it or use Hiroshi's as a blueprint to perfect his own version.

Her heart raced as the gravity of the situation sank in. Smith wasn't just after Cedric—he coveted everything. The machine, the research, the enhancements. If he reached Hiroshi's house first, he could unlock the Holodream machine's full potential, which would not only deny her access but also prevent Cedric's salvation.

A sharp ping jolted her from her thoughts—the security system was tracing her connection. Smith's trap had been activated. Her time was running out.

Ayelen frantically downloaded as much data as possible, her fingers a blur on the keyboard. Just as the security systems began closing in, she severed the connection, her holographic screen fading away.

Breathing heavily, she leaned back in her chair, her heart pounding. She took a moment to steady herself and reached for her vape, taking a long, calming drag. The vapor curled in the dim light, offering a brief respite from the tension.

As she exhaled, her mind raced with the implications of her actions. The trap had been set, but would Smith discover her identity? The thought of him tracking her down made her shiver. Her intrusion might lead him directly to her, escalating the danger she was already in. She would have to trust her own work and hope luck was on her side.

She rubbed her temples, feeling the weight of the task pressing down on her. The path ahead was clear—she had to reach Hiroshi's house before Smith did and uncover the secrets it held. But now, with Smith possibly hunting her, she had more to worry about than just the Holodream machine.

As she powered down her device, the gravity of her actions settled in. She had poked the bear, and soon enough, Smith would be on her trail. The stakes had never been higher.