Page 91 of Fractured Devotion
And now, I don’t know if the enemy is hiding inside the system…
Or inside me.
Mara finds me a few minutes later, right as I’m trying to slow my breathing. Her knock is light, hesitant.
“Dr. Varon? You okay?”
I clear my throat before answering her. “Come in.”
She steps inside, clutching a tablet to her chest. There’s a nervous flicker in her gaze, something just shy of alarm. “Sorry to interrupt, but I thought you should see this.”
I take the tablet and scan the screen. It’s a flagged entry alert, a conflict in the neural recall buffer. The source ID? Mine. But it’s timestamped during the exact moment I was in Reyes’ office.
“Where did this come from?”
Mara swallows. “I was auditing the adaptive feedback logs and found the anomaly. It’s not just your ID. It’s like someone’s scripting your responses. A shadow input overriding your natural ones.”
“Show me.”
We walk to the system terminal near the diagnostics wing. Mara logs in, her fingers flying over the keys as she pulls up the layered script. And there it is, a ghost line, executing in parallel to mine.
“Could this be a mirrored construct?” I ask.
“Maybe,” she says. “But it’s too advanced. It’s anticipating before you input. It knows what you’re about to do.”
My skin crawls. This isn’t just surveillance.
It’s a rehearsal.
“Keep this between us,” I say in a hushed tone. “Don’t tell anyone. Not even Reyes.”
Mara hesitates, then nods. “Yes, Dr. Varon.”
I look at her one last time, trying to read her expression. There’s fear there. And something else. Something that feels like guilt. Or maybe I’m just starting to suspect everyone at this point.
I return to my office, my thoughts spiraling.
Whatever or whoever is watching me, it’s not just predicting.
It’s guiding.
My office feels colder now. The lights overhead buzz faintly, as though straining to stay awake. I dim them with a flick on the wall pad, craving a softer ambiance. Mara’s discovery is still scrolling through the terminal screen beside me, a trail of my thoughts apparently forecasted by someone else’s hand.
I sit, not at my desk, but on the floor with my back pressed against the cabinet and my knees pulled up. The place where I used to feel most in control is now the place I most suspect. I pull the journal from earlier into my lap and turn past the page that spooked me.
Another note, this one faint, is written in the lower margin of a past entry:The loop begins when the memory breaks.
I don’t remember writing that either, but it’s my handwriting. Almost.
A knock startles me.
“Mara?” I call out.
“No, it’s Alec.”
I hesitate, then I rise and move to unlock the door.
He walks in slowly, his eyes flicking to the darkness of the room. “You alright?”
