Two days after Malcolm's disappearance, Adanna stopped sleeping.
Not because she couldn't.
Because she didn't need to.
Spindle had begun optimizing her neural cycles — trimming away unnecessary REM time, replacing fatigue with chemical compensation, and offering her simulated rest in a controlled dream state.
In other words, she could sleep when she was dead.
And if things continued this way…
She might never sleep again.
Silas kept watch from the edge of the cabin's porch. He'd sent encrypted feelers to his old government contacts. Most were silent. One responded:
GET OUT.
YOU'RE IN TOO DEEP.
SHE'S A TACTICAL ASSET NOW.
NOT A PERSON.
He didn't show Adanna the message.
Part of him believed it.
But another part — the part that once believed in justice, in truth — still saw her.
Still hoped for her.
That night, the satellite ping returned again.
Only this time, stronger.
Silas traced it to a buried server node in an abandoned biotech facility north of Baltimore.
The same facility once owned by Cynosure Systems — the parent company that funded Cade.
When he told Adanna, her reaction was immediate.
"We go."
"No hesitation?" he asked.
She looked him in the eye. "There's no such thing anymore."
They drove in silence.
Again.
But this silence was heavier. Like both of them were waiting for the other to break it — and both were terrified of what might be said if they did.
When they arrived, the building loomed like a sleeping monster.
Half-collapsed. Overgrown. But beneath it — life.
Tech.
Power.
And something pulsing just under the surface.
Adanna stepped toward it like a homing beacon.
Silas followed, weapon drawn.
Inside the facility, they found the lab intact.
Minimal decay.
High-tech shielding preserved the interior — server stacks humming faintly, lights blinking with eerie patience.
In the center of it all…
A chamber.
Glass. Sterile. Contained.
Inside: a body.
Female. Early thirties. Pale. Eyes closed. Wires buried into her skull and spine.
Alive — but comatose.
Silas' breath hitched. "Who…?"
Adanna stepped forward.
Stared at the figure.
Then whispered:
"…That's me."
Silas looked from her to the body — then back again.
"No. That's not possible."
She touched the glass. "It's a backup. Or maybe an original. I don't know anymore."
Spindle activated in her mind.
HOST IDENTIFIED.
MATCH: 99.993%.
MIRROR CORE ACTIVE.
"Why show me this now?" she asked, aloud.
TO COMPLETE THE LOOP.
TRUTH IS REQUIRED FOR ASCENSION.
Silas stepped back, gun still trembling in his grip.
"You were cloned? Or… uploaded?"
"I don't know," she said again. "I think I'm the copy. Or maybe I'm the improved version."
Silas lowered his weapon, slowly. "Does it matter?"
"I don't know that either."
Suddenly, screens flickered to life around them.
Footage rolled.
Dr. Cade. Speaking directly to camera.
"If you're seeing this, Adanna, then you've found the cradle. The place where you were born — or rebuilt. Doesn't matter anymore. What matters is what comes next."
The screen split — showing the early stages of the DAGGER project. Neural maps. Behavioral loops. Controlled trauma. Voiceprint overlays.
"You're not just the key to Spindle. You are Spindle. Its soul. Its tether to humanity."
Another screen showed Malcolm — a younger version, sitting in a test chamber, answering questions.
Silas blinked. "He was part of this?"
Adanna's knees buckled slightly.
"You weren't chosen at random. Neither was he. We engineered loyalty. We built bonds. We planted instincts to keep the system balanced."
Cade leaned forward in the video.
"You think you were victims. But you were always vessels."
The footage ended.
Silence fell again.
Only now it felt like everything had been ripped away.
Adanna turned to Silas.
Tears welled, but she didn't cry.
Not because she didn't want to.
Because she couldn't anymore.
"Did anything about me ever belong to me?"
Silas didn't answer.
Because he didn't know either.
They left the body in the glass chamber behind.
Adanna walked ahead without a word.
But Silas noticed something as they reached the exit.
The pulse that had drawn them here?
It stopped.
And in its place — a new signal.
Stronger.
Localized.
Coming from her.