Run

The fragment's processing suddenly intensified, and Maxon felt the data patterns shift. The fragments were no longer just analyzing separately but actively sharing predictive models.

"Lilith, what's happening?"

"The fragments are correlating data streams. Their predictive algorithms are—"

The hub's lighting system flickered. Around him, holographic displays stuttered, security scanners squealed with feedback, and the crowd's general murmur shifted toward concern. Through his lenses, Maxon watched the surveillance team react. The woman in the Matsuda suit touched her ear, speaking rapidly. The maintenance worker abandoned all pretense of work.

Then everything went dark.

Emergency lights kicked in, bathing the terminal in blood-red emergency lighting. Automated announcements began blaring in multiple languages: "Security protocols engaged. Please remain calm and—"

The message cut off in a burst of static. Through his lenses, Maxon watched cascading failures ripple through the hub's systems. Security doors slammed shut randomly. Holographic advertisements dissolved into chaotic patterns. Security scanners began screaming alerts at empty air.

"Shit, what's happening?" He turned his head on a swivel.

"Lilith, execute Protocol Chaos."

His custom virus hit the hub's already destabilized systems like a hammer. But this wasn't just his virus at work. The fragments' combined processing power was overwhelming the hub's security protocols, their predictive algorithms identifying and exploiting weaknesses faster than the systems could adapt. Environmental controls went haywire, venting cold air in some sections and hot in others. Anti-grav assist platforms along the walls suddenly reversed polarity, sending luggage flying. The crowd's initial murmurs of concern transformed into shouts of panic.

But something was wrong. The system failures weren't following his virus's patterns. Someone else was in the network, riding his chaos protocol, enhancing it in ways he hadn't intended. The surveillance team's embedded operator was good; too good.

Regular security teams burst through side doors, weapons drawn. But their tactical systems were compromised, their coordination disrupted by precisely targeted data interference. Maxon watched as they moved in completely wrong directions, their movements predicted and countered before they even made them.

"Multiple security teams converging," Lilith reported. "But their deployment patterns are being manipulated. The fragment is predicting their standard response protocols and—"

Movement to his left. The woman in the Matsuda suit emerged from the crowd, something metallic gleaming in her hand. Not a weapon, some kind of advanced analysis device. She wasn't trying to stop him; she was collecting data.

Maxon grabbed a hovering luggage cart and sent it spinning toward her. She dodged with quick reflexes, but the distraction bought him time. The maintenance worker was already moving to cut off his route to the east exit, which meant...

"Lilith, map me an exit route. Factor in their positioning."

The hub's layout overlaid his vision, escape routes highlighted in probability percentages. But the numbers kept shifting as security doors opened and closed. Not randomly – the patterns matched predicted crowd movement models. The surveillance team's embedded operator was herding him, just like they had at the checkpoint.

Fine. Let's see how they handle improvisation.

Maxon sprinted toward a wall of holographic advertisements. The fragment's processing speed increased with his heightened heart rate, feeding his enhanced lenses with predictive data about optimal movement paths. He ran three steps up the curved wall, pushed off into a spinning flip that carried him over a security barrier. He landed in a roll that transitioned smoothly into a sprint, his movements fluid and precise, the result of countless hours of practice with uploaded martial arts knowledge, every style integrated perfectly into his muscle memory.

"Sir!" A regular security officer moved to intercept, stun baton raised. The officer lunged forward, the baton crackling with energy as it arced toward Maxon's midsection. Maxon shifted his weight slightly, his forearm deflecting the officer's wrist while his other hand gripped the man's uniform. In one smooth motion, he stepped into the officer's space, using the man's forward momentum to lift and throw him into his approaching colleagues.

Three more officers approached in standard Pacific Collective tactical formation. Through his lenses, he noticed the surveillance team's positions. The woman in the Matsuda suit hadn't moved to intercept him, instead maintaining her position while her device collected data. The maintenance worker kept his distance, speaking urgently into his comm. They were watching, waiting for something.

He moved through their coordinated attack with practiced ease, his uploaded combat knowledge flowing through his muscles as naturally as breathing. The first officer came in high with a punch while another moved to flank. Maxon stepped into the space between them, his palm striking upward under the first officer's chin while his leg swept backward, catching the flanking officer in the knee. As both men stumbled, Maxon grabbed the first officer's tactical vest and spun, using him as a shield against the third officer's stun baton.

"Warning," Lilith announced. "Fragment's processing speed increasing exponentially. The predictive algorithms are evolving beyond baseline parameters."

Through his lenses, he saw the Matsuda woman's eyes widen as she checked her readings. The maintenance worker had stopped advancing, speaking urgently into his comm. Whatever patterns the fragments were analyzing, it wasn't part of their plan.

A security door slammed shut inches from his face. Another opened to his right, then one behind him. The embedded operator was trying to force his path, but Maxon had already spotted what they'd missed; a maintenance access panel, concealed behind a malfunctioning holographic display.

"Lilith, execute Protocol Mirror."

Two more officers rushed in. Maxon dropped low, his hand planting on the floor as his legs scissored through the air, catching one officer in the chest while simultaneously avoiding the other's grab. He rolled backward to his feet, stepped inside the second officer's guard, and locked the man's arm behind his back. In one fluid motion, he disarmed the officer and used the stun baton to disable the tactical gear of the others still struggling to stand.

But even as he moved, he noted how the regular security teams' responses seemed staged, their formations creating obvious gaps. The fragment was processing their tactical patterns, showing him through his enhanced lenses that their movements were too predictable, too controlled.

His digital duplicates scattered across the hub's surveillance network, each one moving toward a different exit. The regular security teams split up, chasing ghosts. But the surveillance team wasn't fooled - their behavior patterns suggested they'd anticipated this move. They knew exactly where he was heading.

The maintenance panel yielded to a quick hack, revealing a service tunnel beyond. But as Maxon slipped through, the fragment's processing patterns suddenly shifted. Above, twelve kilometers up, another fragment was running parallel analysis. The security network itself seemed to pulse with new data as the two pieces of Oracle began correlating information at unprecedented speeds.

The game was changing. The fragments were beginning to predict what would happen next. The only question was: who was really orchestrating these predictions?