Wesley slipped back to his cell and retrieved the bar from beneath his pillow. Still warm. Still waiting. He pocketed it and headed for the door.
He needed to check on Roz. If drones had logged the location, if they’d flagged the power signature…
The corridors of Stack 5 were quieter than usual. Most families were huddled inside, preparing their children for the Beta Test. Wesley moved fast, counting steps. Forty-seven to the first junction. Thirty-two to the maintenance access.
He was halfway to the ventilation shaft when his wrist display buzzed.
STACK 2 STACK 3 STACK 4 STACK 5 STACK 6 STACK 7 ### SECTOR 422 LOCKDOWN. ### CONTRABAND DETECTION IN PROGRESS. ### SHELTER IN PLACE. ### COMPLIANCE IS APPRECIATED. ### NON-COMPLIANCE IS ALSO LOGGED.
Wesley stopped. Read it again.
Contraband detection. In his sector. Right now.
He pressed himself against the wall and risked a glance around the corner. Two drones hovered at the junction ahead, their scanners sweeping the corridor in slow, methodical arcs. Blue light cut through the recycled air.
Between him and Roz.
He ran through options.
Wait them out? No. Lockdowns lasted hours. The Beta Test was tomorrow. He couldn’t spend the day hiding in a corridor and he didn’t want to hide out with his aunt.
Find another route? The ventilation shaft had three access points. Two were in the lockdown zone. The third was on Level 2, which meant illegally descending through maintenance tunnels that hadn’t been serviced in years.
Risk it anyway? The drones were scanning for contraband. He had forbidden tech in his pocket and an illegal AI hidden 200 meters away. Walking toward them was suicide.
The bar pulsed against his hip. Frustratingly hot for a pocket heater. Radiating on a frequency drones could probably detect. Completely unhelpful.
Think, Wesley. Think.
His mind went to Roz. Heart rate: 134. Translation: you are about to do something stupid. She’d be right. She’d be annoying.
He took a breath. Forced himself to think.
Roz was powered down. No heat signature. No emissions. The tarp masked her visual profile. The power tap was spliced into a main conduit, indistinguishable from background noise. He’d designed the hiding spot specifically to survive casual scans.
The drones weren’t looking for her. They were looking for whatever had triggered last night’s drone search. The bar, probably. The thing currently sitting in his pocket like a glowing target.
[ENCRYPTED:Frequency detected sector four twenty two.]
He needed to get away from the lockdown zone. Put distance between himself and the search. Come back when it was safe.
Roz would understand. Roz would tell him to be logical.
Wesley turned and headed for the lower levels.