~ Chapter 4: The Blueprint of a Grave~

The sewers eventually bled into the foundations of Mid-Sector, a place where the architecture was a chaotic blend of old brick and new carbon fiber. Elias climbed out of the maintenance hatch into a deserted construction yard. The air was cold, and the rain had turned into a fine, biting mist. He was shivering, his clothes soaked through, but the adrenaline kept his heart from slowing down.

He needed to understand the location in the memory. If he could find the room, he might be able to change the variables. He found a secluded corner behind a stack of structural beams and pulled out his handheld scanner. He linked it to the chip, focussing only on environment data this time.

“Show me the blueprints”, he whispered.

The scanner projected a wireframe model of the building from the memory. It was a massive, needle-like spire that pierced the clouds. The Aethelgard Tower. Elias recognised the name. It was Vance’s magnum opus, a luxury residential complex designed for the city’s ultra-elite. It was supposed to be the first building in Neo-Veridia with integrated neural-sync environments, where the rooms themselves would respond to the owner’s moods and memories.

But according to the public records, the Aethelgard was only sixty percent complete. The penthouse level-the place where Elias had seen himself die-wasn't even supposed to have floors yet.

Then how was it finished in the memory? Elias wondered aloud.

He zoomed in on the architectural details. The glass was a specific type of polarized crystal, and the floor was made of rare obsidian marble. He noticed a small detail in the room; a grandfather clock with a face made of shifting liquid silver. It was an antique, a piece of physical history in a digital world.

As he studied the architectural details. The glass was a specific type of polarized crystal, and the floor was made of rare  obsidian marble. He noticed a small detail in the corner of the room: a grandfather clock with a face made of shifting liquid silver. It was an antique, a piece of physical history in a digital world.

As he studied the image, the memory burst through again. It was stronger this time, a sudden surge of sensory input knocked him to his knees. He wasn't just seeing it; he was living it. He felt phantom pain in his chest, but his focus was on something else. In the memory, just before he died, he had reached for something on a nearby desk. A small, leather-bound notebook.

“Why would I want a book?”, he gasped, the vision fading as quickly as it had come.

He looked at his hands. They were stained with the black sludge of the sewers, but thwy were the same hands he had seen in the vision. He realised with a jolt of horror that he was already becoming the man in the memory. Every step he took, every choice he made, seemed to be leading him toward that specific room on that specific day.

He needed someone who knew the history of Vance’s projects, someone who hadn't been bought by the corporation. He thought of Julian. Julian had been his mentor when Elias first started as a technician. He was a brilliant man who had suddenly disappeared from the professional circuit five years ago, rumoured to have a mental breakdown.

Elias checked his internal map. Julian’s last known address was a small apartment in the old industrial district, a place the city had forgotten decades ago. It was a long walk, and he was being hunted, but he had no other options.

As he moved out of the construction yard, he saw a reflection in a puddle. A tall, slender woman was standing on a nearby rooftop, her long coat fluttering in the wind. She wasn't an enforcer. She didn't have the heavy armor on the glowing visors. She was just watching him.

Elias froze. He knew that silhouette. Sloane.

They had been recruited by Mem-Tech at the same time. They had been close, once. They had shared late-night shifts in the archives and talked about a future where memories were used to heal, not to control. But Sloane had chosen the path of the enforcer, her ambition outweighing her ethics.

She didn't move to attack. She just raised a hand, two fingers pointed toward her eyes, then toward him. A silent promise that she was tracking him.

Elias turned and ran, the image of the Aethelgard Tower looming in his mind like a tombstone. He was running toward a grave that was still being built, and the people he once loved were the ones digging the hole.