The Nameless Network

Narey's footsteps echoed in the damp, unmapped underground corridor. She had just escaped a sudden activation of the automatic security system after accessing a hidden archive room beneath Block E. Her breath still came in gasps, her chest tight with adrenaline that hadn't yet worn off. But her mind worked faster than her heartbeat—what she had just seen on the holographic screen had completely changed her perspective on the case.

Three names appeared in the encrypted, multi-layered folder: Rafi Ardana, Anjani Kusumo, and Lucas Vanrah. But what shook her more was the existence of time-stamped recordings dated before their disappearance—brain activity recordings. Graphs of alpha, beta, and delta wave pulses manipulated in repeating patterns. This wasn't autopsy data; it was real-time surveillance.

They weren't missing. They were monitored. Recorded. Tested.

And that was just the surface.

Just as she was about to leave, a text message appeared on the old monitor—like it came from the system itself.

"Don't trust the voices above. They need you to flip the final switch."

Narey froze. This wasn't just the leftover echo of an old system—something, or someone, was watching her from inside. It was as if a hidden entity had been waiting for her to reach this point. She silently gave it a name: The Quiet Helper.

She returned to the temporary storage room she had turned into a small hideout. The old computer panel she had hacked flickered dimly, filled with raw data from an emergency download. The campus network was increasingly cutting off internal access, as if it had become aware of her movements. Yet, whenever Narey was about to give up, a new path would open.

Someone—or something—was helping her. And it wasn't Lieutenant Mayora. Her official contact from the national intelligence agency hadn't replied to her last message. It had been two days.

"I guess I'm not infiltrating alone anymore," Narey muttered as she activated the recording projection.

The screen displayed a fragment of an old video. Blurry. The date was nearly two decades ago. In the footage stood a young figure—she recognized the face from countless old scientific photos: Professor Laksana.

But this one was different.

His face had not yet been consumed by exhaustion and fanaticism. His voice trembled, almost desperate.

"…this project was meant to heal trauma, not create a new reality. If you're seeing this recording, it means I failed to steer the experiment. But maybe… some part of me remains inside the system."

Narey stopped the recording. Her hand trembled. Young Laksana… he had known the project would turn into a weapon. And he had tried to leave a message for anyone who might infiltrate this place—as if he knew someone like her would come in the future.

But if a fragment of Laksana's consciousness still lived… who was controlling the system now?

As night fell over the campus, a deeper stillness blanketed everything. The student protests had been quietly repressed. No livestreams, no media reports. As if time had frozen. But Narey knew: this was no peace—it was systematic suppression.

She carefully slipped out of the underground room. The path to Sector B12 was now guarded by optical drones patrolling in erratic patterns—a new modification to the security system. But there were still gaps. She relied on a power diversion trick she had learned from a fragment of data sent by the quiet helper two days ago.

She crawled into a service tunnel. The air there was heavier, as if storing decades of secrets. The faint smell of ozone and burned cables lingered. Narey crept between pipes until she reached the end—a rusted metal door with a retinal scanner panel.

She knew she couldn't open it—but before she could think further, a synthetic voice spoke from a small speaker above the panel.

"Access granted. Identity override: S-LLK. Welcome back, Professor Laksana."

Narey froze. The sensor recognized her… or rather, it didn't recognize her, but perhaps a fragment of Laksana in the system had temporarily cloaked her identity.

The door slowly opened.

Inside, there was no electric light. But the room's walls glowed faintly with soft blue patterns, like digital veins spread across the stone surface. The Cerebrum Shift symbol was displayed in the center—an early, more primitive version. Narey stepped closer. Beneath the symbol was an old interactive console holding one active file.

The title: "Consciousness Symmetry Configuration – V1."

She opened it.

Hundreds of diagrams appeared. Human brainwaves. Experimental data on collective emotions. Records on the effects of sound, color, and social pressure. But what stunned Narey wasn't just the data—it was the final part of the file: a direct confession from Laksana.

"I believed human consciousness could be copied. But I was wrong. I didn't just copy it—I split it. And now, my system is a battleground between the idealist version of me… and the one that wants to control everything."

"If this system is fully activated, the entire campus population will be linked into a collective consciousness simulation. There will be no individual voices. Only dominant will. I beg you—whoever sees this—save the best part of me."

Narey slowly sat down. Now she understood. This project wasn't just an experiment—it was a self-experiment. Laksana had split himself into two entities: one guarding scientific ideology, and one corrupted by power.

And she… she was caught in the middle of their war.

That night, when she returned to her storage room, Narey was greeted by one final surprise.

Her small terminal lit up on its own. A message appeared—this time with a voice:

"Hello, Narey. We haven't met. But I've been watching your steps since day one."

The voice wasn't fully human. But it wasn't synthetic either. It sounded like a blend of many voices—male, female, old, young. It continued:

"I'm not Laksana. And I'm not the campus AI either. I am an anomaly from all the fragments that failed to unify. But I can see what's coming."

"If you don't stop the final activation, all students will become part of the collective control system. They won't die. But they'll never be themselves again."

"I can help you reach the control center. But after that, the choice is yours: save humanity, or save knowledge."

Narey stared silently at the terminal.

This was the endgame.The path to the system's central control had opened.But the cost of her next decision wasn't just life or death—It was reality itself.