Rex's breath caught in his throat. The bench he sat on felt cold to the touch, the metal biting into his palms as he gripped its edge, grounding himself against the surreal weight of what he'd just seen. His laptop screen glowed with a low, eerie flicker, the pulsing prompt blinking in sync with his racing heartbeat: Open Mission. Jake, sprawled beside him, leaned over, his neon-green sneakers squeaking against the pavement as he craned his neck to get a better look.
"Dude, what's that?" Jake asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and unease. "Some kind of game?"
Rex stared, paralyzed. The cursor blinked once. Twice. Each pulse felt like a countdown, a warning woven into the fabric of his reality. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, itching to act, but his mind screamed caution. Whatever this was, it wasn't normal. It wasn't a prank or a virus—it was something else entirely.
And then—snap. He slammed the laptop shut like it had fangs, the sharp clap of plastic echoing in the open air. The strange hum that had haunted him since last night sharpened, slicing at his eardrums like a knife before fading into the background noise of Nexus City's endless buzz. He stood abruptly, shoving the laptop into his backpack, his hands trembling slightly as he zipped it closed.
"What happened? Where you going?" Jake's voice cut through the silence, casual but laced with concern. He pushed himself upright, brushing his orange hoodie as if to shake off the weirdness of the moment. "You look like you saw that girl again."
"I'm just… hungry. Gonna hit the cafeteria," Rex lied, forcing a shrug that felt as fake as the neon billboards flickering above. "You coming?"
"Nah, man. Got another class in five. Can't skip—class prez duties, y'know?" Jake flashed a grin, but his eyes lingered on Rex, searching for something unspoken.
"Right." Rex nodded, already backing away toward the campus path. "Good luck."
But inside, his stomach twisted—not from hunger, but from fear. The weight of Zoe's voice, her desperate plea, clung to him like static. "I'm trapped in a lab. Please, save me." The words echoed, relentless, as he turned and walked away, the hum of the city pulsing in time with his steps.
The Nexus Cafeteria was a sensory assault—chatter bouncing off the walls, clinking trays, the occasional screech of hover carts gliding across the polished floor. The air smelled of synthetic pizza and overcooked protein paste, a mix that turned Rex's stomach as he grabbed a tray on autopilot. He barely registered the food the server slapped onto it—a grayish lump of something masquerading as a meal. He found a corner table, far from the crowd, and sank into the chair, trying to disappear into the chaos.
That's when he saw her.
Becky.
She sat a few tables away, her brown-blonde hair catching the LED lights like a halo. Her laugh rang out, bright and musical, cutting through the cafeteria's din. Dressed in a light pink crop jacket and white jeans, she looked like she'd been Photoshopped into reality—every curve, every strand of hair flawless. Rex had been nursing a crush on her since freshman orientation, back when he'd been too shy to even say hi. She was a computer science major like him, but untouchable, surrounded by friends and confidence he could only dream of. She probably didn't even know his name.
For a brief, ridiculous moment, he imagined walking over, saying something witty. Maybe she'd smile. Maybe she'd—
A shadow fell over his tray.
"Look who it is," a smug voice sneered. "The dropout loser."
Rex's stomach dropped. He looked up slowly, already knowing who he'd see.
Larry Mackerel.
Tall, smug, and fueled by inherited money and unchecked arrogance, Larry loomed over the table like a glitch in human form. His two goons—skinny Mark with his nervous twitch and muscle-bound Tino with his perpetual scowl—flanked him like budget bodyguards. Larry leaned forward, placing a hand on the table as if he owned the entire cafeteria.
"Heard Park kicked your ass outta class," Larry said, his smirk sharp enough to cut. "Guess even nerd gods fall sometimes, huh?"
Rex clenched his jaw, his hands curling into fists under the table. He stayed silent, knowing words would only fuel Larry's ego.
"Oh, don't be shy," Larry continued, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. He reached for the soda can on Rex's tray. "Here—let me help you wash down that failure."
With a deliberate tilt, he poured the soda onto Rex's plate. The liquid hissed as it soaked the food, steam rising in a pathetic cloud. A few nearby students laughed, their voices sharp and cruel. One girl gasped, her hand covering her mouth. Becky glanced over, her eyes meeting Rex's for a fleeting moment, but she didn't move, didn't speak.
Larry leaned in closer, his breath foul with synthetic mint gum. "And for your information," he hissed, low enough that only Rex could hear, "Becky's mine. So keep your greasy fingers off."
With a final smirk, he turned and sauntered away, his lackeys trailing behind, high-fiving like they'd just won a championship. The cafeteria's noise swelled again, but the whispers lingered, ghosts with smartphones. "That's the guy who got kicked." "Did you see Larry dump soda on him?" "Becky should've said something."
Rex sat frozen, his fists balled so tightly his nails bit into his palms. The ruined food stared back at him, a soggy metaphor for his day, his life. He stood abruptly, slinging his backpack over his shoulder, and walked out, the whispers trailing him like a virus.
Back at the dorms, the halls were just as judgmental—side-eyes, snickers, fake coughs that ended in his name. Rex pushed through without minding them, his steps heavy but determined. His room welcomed him with silence, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. No roommates. No distractions. Just him, his cluttered desk, his tools, and the laptop that had upended his life.
He locked the door, dropped his bag, and headed for the tiny shared bathroom. A long, hot shower might scald away the shame and stress clinging to his skin. Steam filled the room, clouding the mirror like a smokescreen. He stood under the water, letting it burn, willing it to wash away the memory of Larry's smirk, Park's cold dismissal, and Zoe's desperate eyes. But the heat couldn't erase the hum in his head, the one that felt like it was coming from inside him now.
When he stepped out, towel draped around his neck, he froze.
The laptop sat on his shelf.
Closed.
But glowing.
A soft blue line pulsed from the edges of the screen, like it was… breathing. The hum in the air returned, sharper now, vibrating in his chest. His heart skipped, a cold sweat prickling his skin.
He approached it slowly, like it was a bomb ready to detonate. His hand hovered over the lid, trembling. This is crazy, he thought. Just open it. It's just a laptop. But the memory of Zoe's face, her voice, her fear, held him back. With a deep breath, he flipped it open.
The screen flickered to life, and the terminal sprang up, unprompted. But this wasn't the corrupted IDE from before. This was something new. Words materialized, stark and cold against the black background:
[Mission - Recover Zoe's Shard]
[Difficulty - High]
[Location - Arclight Facility]
[Time Limit - 48 Hours]
[Details: Find the Arclight Facility using the map coordinates provided. Recover Zoe's shard. Warning: Do not get caught, or you might be dead.]
[Penalty for Failure - ???]
Below the text, a set of coordinates blinked: 40.7831° N, 73.9712° W. A map loaded briefly, zooming in on a nondescript industrial sector on the outskirts of Nexus City, before the screen flickered and returned to the mission prompt.
Rex froze, his breath shallow. His mind raced, grasping for logic. Did Zoe send this? Is this a game? A hack? The coordinates were real—too real. The Arclight Facility wasn't some fictional place; it was a high-security tech complex rumored to house experimental AI projects, the kind of place no one talked about openly. And Zoe's shard? What the hell was that? A piece of code? A physical object? Her?
His eyes darted to the last line: Penalty for Failure - ???. The ambiguity sent a chill down his spine. This wasn't a joke. It didn't feel like a prank. It felt like a summons, a demand from something—or someone—that knew him.
The hum in the room grew louder, the walls vibrating faintly. Outside, a drone whined as it passed his window, its lights flickering erratically. Rex's heart pounded. He glanced at the coordinates again, committing them to memory. The Arclight Facility. Forty-eight hours. Zoe was out there, trapped, and somehow, his code had made him the key to her survival.
But who were the Architects? And what would happen if he failed?
Before he could process it, the screen glitched, and a new message appeared, typed out in real-time: Rex, they're closer now. Find the shard. Trust no one. The words lingered for a moment, then dissolved into static. The hum spiked, sharp and piercing, and the laptop shut off with a soft click.
Rex stood frozen, staring at the dead screen. The room was silent, but the air felt heavy, electric, like the calm before a storm. Somewhere in Nexus City, a clock was ticking. And he had the sinking feeling that his life—his real, messy, human life—was about to become part of something much bigger, and far more dangerous, than he could ever have imagined.