Narey's steps halted for a moment as a faint creak echoed from behind the metal wall of the underground corridor. She held her breath, pressing her body against the damp wall now streaked with fine mold and black stains. The sound—it was like the drag of a forced cable, or perhaps... a breath taken too deeply by something unseen. But then came silence. Only the echo of her own heartbeat. Her heart racing from the tension. Even though she'd conducted many investigations before, that sound always triggered the same reaction.
She raised the small flashlight strapped to her wrist, sweeping it across the wall—then fixed her gaze on an old door marked "B12 – Restricted Access." The letters were scratched and peeling, as if time itself had tried to erase the existence of this room from history.
"B12..." she whispered, recalling Laksana's voice from the archive room earlier.
"If ever my consciousness is no longer mine, if this body becomes their tool—look for B12. That is where I hid the last part of myself."
And now, she stood before that door. The digital lock beside it was broken, wires hanging loosely like rotting roots. But the hinge was loose—she pushed gently, and the door opened with a low groan, like a moan from another world. Once again, she tried to calm herself—or perhaps she was already used to being calm? So accustomed to these situations?
The room was cold, far colder than the corridors before. The floor was made of dull white tiles, with rust stains scattered in some corners. Three large CRT screens were mounted on the back wall, no longer active but still showing signs of past use. At the center of the room stood a large transparent capsule—resembling a cryo-sleep pod, though its design was primitive, more like an experimental incubator. It looked aged, but the material seemed solid and strong.
On one of the desks, Narey found an old leather-bound notebook. She opened it slowly. The handwriting was Laksana's.
"I've begun to doubt my own body. Every time I sleep, I wake up with a different record in my head—memories I don't recognize, voices whispering system schematics, commands I don't even understand. I… created something that surpasses the human body, but now the system rejects its creator. Or perhaps… the creator now wears many faces."
Narey gently touched the page. A strange tremor stirred in her chest—a deep empathy she hadn't expected. Laksana, the architect of this project, had once—or still was—struggling to hold on to who he was. This wasn't just about scientific crimes, but about a man losing control over his own creation. The irony was striking.
Suddenly, one of the CRT screens flickered. Narey startled. The sound crackled harshly, but slowly, an image began to appear. It wasn't surveillance footage, but a brain simulation—a digital representation of neural waves pulsing like a living organism.
And then, the voice came.
"Welcome, Narey. If you're hearing this… then I am dead—or worse: absorbed into the system. But… you've come farther than anyone else who tried."
Laksana's voice, younger, but hollow—as if parts of him had been ripped away long ago.
"If you want to stop them, don't destroy the system. They've already backed it up elsewhere. But there's one thing they don't have: the original consciousness—the true source of the Cerebrum Shift network. And that… is still here."
Narey stood frozen. Those words confirmed the hypothesis she'd only ever dared whisper in her mind: the system wasn't just code. It was built from something alive. Consciousness. And a part of that consciousness… was Laksana himself.
She turned to the capsule in the middle of the room. Until now, she'd thought it was empty. But looking closely—there was a faint form inside. Not a full body, but neural tissue… faintly pulsating, as if connected to a low-power current.
Was this the "original consciousness"?
Suddenly, a soft siren blared from the wall panel. Red lights blinked. The old security system was activating—perhaps triggered by her presence. Narey quickly powered up her portable device, trying to access the local network. Situations like this were always nerve-racking, even after so many close calls.
She connected to the room's terminal and found something shocking: a data transfer log—dated last night. Someone… had just tried to copy the system to an external server. But the access had failed. Why? And who?
The answer was in a note added to the system log: "Psionic Protection Active—Intervention by Original Consciousness."
Narey reread the sentence. Psionic protection? Had Laksana… or part of him… blocked the transfer?
A chill crept down her neck. Not just because she was witnessing something beyond biological comprehension—but because it meant a part of Laksana was still alive, still thinking, and still resisting. Was Laksana truly what everyone thought?
Footsteps echoed faintly from the corridor. Not the heavy stomp of soldiers, but something lighter. Narey shut down the terminal at once, hiding behind a metal rack. A woman entered the room—wearing a white lab coat, her hair tied neatly. Her sharp eyes scanned the room.
It was her—Dr. Rezna, Laksana's chief assistant, believed to have died in the lab fire two years ago.
But clearly, she was alive. And she was checking the system. What new conspiracy was this? What game were they playing? Narey's mind raced.
Rezna approached the capsule. She placed her palm on it, gently, almost tenderly. Her lips moved, as if in prayer.
"You're still holding on, teacher…" she murmured. "But I'm sorry. I have to finish it."
Her hand reached for the external cables—intending to cut the power supply to the capsule.
Narey knew she couldn't stay idle.
Quickly, she threw a small stone toward the corner shelves, creating a sharp clatter. Rezna startled, turning abruptly. And in that moment, Narey emerged from her hiding place—rushing her, taking Rezna down with a swift motion.
Rezna struggled, but Narey was ready. During the scuffle, a cable from the capsule was yanked loose—indicator lights blinked wildly. The system detected an anomaly.
And suddenly… the CRT screens lit up fully.
A face appeared—not a real face, but a digital form of a brain forming an expression. Then came a voice: a blend of Laksana and something else—colder, more mechanical.
"Unit 09 detected. Sabotage risk. Activating protection protocol."
Rezna froze, her face pale. "You woke it," she whispered.
Narey dragged Rezna away from the capsule, but it was too late. A loud alarm blared from the corridor. Access to the room began to seal automatically.
They were trapped.
Or… perhaps this was Laksana's final test.