The Threshold of Exposure

The silence in the underground safe house was deafening. Narey sat alone in the briefing chamber, the glow of a single overhead lamp casting harsh shadows across her tired face. The mission report she had submitted was now circulating through the upper echelons of BIN, and for the first time in her career, she felt less like an agent—and more like bait.

The evidence was undeniable. Interlink was real. The Cerebrum Shift project had reached operational stages. And the state, through Division Delta and other clandestine committees, was not only aware—but deeply invested. Laksana wasn't a rogue scientist. He was a chosen executor. That made everything worse.

Narey reviewed the decrypted files Arka had secured. Vanrah's neurological scans showed full synchronization with the Interlink system. But one detail stood out—hidden within layers of encrypted metadata. A repeating phrase in binary:

"THE GATE OPENS IN SEVEN DAYS."

It wasn't just a metaphor. It was a countdown.

The next morning, Director Wibawa summoned Narey to a private meeting.

"You've done enough," he said calmly. "We'll handle the rest from here."

"I don't trust your definition of 'handling it,'" Narey replied.

He studied her carefully. "You think you're the only one who cares about the truth?"

"I think I'm the only one who won't be silenced by it."

A long pause. Then, Wibawa slid a folder across the table. Inside were photographs—new surveillance images of Professor Laksana at an isolated coastal facility, several kilometers outside Grovement. More importantly, he wasn't alone. Several foreign operatives were seen entering the facility over the last 48 hours. Unknown affiliations. Possibly private militaries.

"The Interlink node is there," Wibawa said. "Final phase goes live in six days."

"So why aren't we raiding it?"

"Politics. Jurisdiction. International eyes. We need deniability."

"You want me to go in alone again."

"No," he said. "This time, you choose your team."

Within 12 hours, Narey had assembled three operatives: Arka—technically no longer a student, but whose hacking skills were now legendary within internal BIN circles; Captain Rafiq—a disavowed marine with extensive black-ops experience; and Inez—a former forensic analyst who had once lost her brother to the early phases of Cerebrum Shift.

They were ghosts now—operating off-grid, without support, authorization, or backup. Their only objective: shut down the coastal facility before Interlink connected to international satellite networks.

The journey to the coastal lab took them through abandoned rail lines, swampy estuaries, and finally, an old drainage tunnel once used during wartime. It was a place forgotten by maps and invisible to surveillance drones. But Laksana's men hadn't forgotten. As they emerged into the lower perimeter of the facility, laser tripwires and buried motion sensors greeted them.

Narey signaled halt. "Thermals show three guards inside the maintenance wing. Non-uniformed. Armed."

Captain Rafiq took the lead. Silenced takedowns followed. Quick. Surgical. No alarms. They moved like shadows through the concrete maze.

Arka accessed the internal control panel and disabled the motion grid.

"We have thirty minutes before reboot," he whispered.

Inside the facility, the walls were lined with high-voltage neural conduits, branching like veins toward a central chamber. The chamber doors were sealed—voice and retina access only.

"Let me try something," Inez said, approaching the scanner.

She pulled out a severed access chip—recovered from an old Cerebrum technician. Pressed it to the panel. Then, she activated a looped voice feed recorded from Professor Vellan during their earlier infiltration.

The lock turned green.

Inside the chamber, they saw it: the Interlink Core. A living data array—organic servers pulsating with neural fluid. And in its center, suspended in a tank, was Subject Zero.

Vanrah?

No. This was someone else.

Inez gasped. "That's my brother."

He was unconscious, pale, wires fused into his spinal cord and brain stem. His mind wasn't his anymore. He was the system's living processor.

Suddenly, alarms rang. Arka shouted, "They've triggered a failsafe!"

Doors slammed. Steel walls descended.

Laksana's voice echoed through the chamber.

"Curious thing about consciousness... It always resists at first. But eventually, it adapts."

Narey stepped forward, eyes fixed on the suspended body.

"You turned him into a node."

"He volunteered. They all did, at some point. Free will is just a matter of perspective."

"You're insane."

"No. I'm a visionary."

Narey pulled out an EMP grenade. "Then let's shut down your vision."

"Do that," Laksana warned, "and everyone linked to this network dies—including the ones you've 'rescued.' Their minds are no longer local. They are synced. Severing them will destroy them."

For a second, Narey froze.

Arka whispered, "He's not bluffing. We need to decouple them first."

"Manual override?"

"Behind the core. But it needs dual confirmation."

"Inez, with me."

They sprinted behind the tank. Alarms howled. The countdown had started: System Uplink: T-minus 12 minutes.

Rafiq held the door, fending off advancing guards with precise bursts of gunfire.

Narey and Inez reached the dual override panel. Inserted keys. Turned.

Manual Decoupling Initiated.

On the screen, linked subjects began disconnecting—one by one. Lucas Vanrah. Anjani. Inez's brother.

But not all were stable.

"Some brains are rejecting the return," Inez warned.

"We can't stop," Narey said. "We finish this."

With seconds remaining, Arka activated the EMP dampener—isolating the core without frying the neural links. Rafiq lobbed a smoke grenade and pulled the team out through a backup ventilation shaft.

Behind them, the Interlink Core short-circuited. Sparks. Silence.

Then darkness.

Three days later, back at the safe house, Narey watched the news. The coastal facility had been declared an abandoned biotech site destroyed in an accidental explosion. No mention of Interlink. No mention of victims. The official report buried it all.

But the survivors were real. Lucas. Anjani. Inez's brother. Dozens more.

She turned to Wibawa. "That's it, then? We cover it up?"

"For now," he said. "The world isn't ready."

Narey stood. "Then make it ready."

Because the war wasn't over. Only paused.

And the mind was still the most dangerous battlefield of all.

Yet deep inside her, Narey knew: the technology had already spread. Backups existed. Someone, somewhere, would try again. And next time, it might not be in the shadows.