Zyrin sat on the curb and leaned back, her legs folded under her but resting on the street. To her left, a banner rippled across a giant news screen, indicating a nodal code breach. All around her, the hum of drone traffic, citizen, corporate, and mercenary/delivery, zoomed about their tasks. Each different in its small angle. Each part of the larger whole. All of it on-chain. Except her. She was on-chain, of course. Everybody was. Everything was. However, her task had forked her reality for the moment. She’d found something in the base chain. Something not supposed to be there. Something she could find no open code to support. A direct violation of The Codex, the governing document of Far Durvix. She looked back at the news tape. She was stuck. She’d left work to grab an early dinner, then had skipped that part to sit and stare at the sky. Those around her didn’t even notice. The neon-bathed twilight of the megalopolis washed away most of the sky’s beauty, but not all of it. Beyond the edge of false light, there lingered a swirl of cloud-stained beauty waving goodbye. The coded reality of her trustless society, where all forms of communication and existence were run through ID scanners and smart contracts via zero-knowledge proof validation nodes, rarely gave her peace. She had anchors and ties through society that eclipsed the norm of long-ago Earth. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” she mumbled into her hands as she folded them over her mouth, elbows on knees in a sort of Zen pose on the sidewalk's edge. “The bustle of life,” she whispered, looking left and right, “HA! All of it governed and sewn into the reality of code, drawn like a thread by an ancient Fate.” Zyrin shook her head, knowing a hundred cameras were capturing her moment. Wanting them to. Above her, a drone twirled for an extra second before beeping and rushing away on a new task. She had a sketchy way forward, and even that was a trap. Already, paths were converging, and her life would be different—the “how’s” were all that mattered, now. The smell warned her first. It always made her stomach flip before she could tamp it down. “Hi, Stitch,” She said, louder this time. Probably loud enough to be picked up by a mic somewhere. “Hey, Coder. Ya’ look lonely out on the edge.” She looked up at him and motioned with her eyes for him to join her on the curb. He did, and he sat close, which caused her another moment of forced self-control. He had new clothes, too. Or different from the last time she’d seen him. It didn’t make much sense, but her mind couldn’t fret over it at the moment. He looked down at the pavement before mumbling softly, “You’re caught?” Keeping her hands in front of her mouth, she replied, “In the code? Yes. Just waiting for the chain to catch up now.” “Care to share?” Stitch seemed aware of his olfactory state and tried to mitigate it by not speaking directly in her direction. Other people gave them a wider berth. He was an old coder, better than Zyrin, because he was here to help. He’d found something too, but managed a life outside the chain. That’s what she found when she looked into it, though his chain eluded her. Probably part of the protocol. Which, honestly, made him a criminal. Oddly, contract enforcement mercenaries only chased violators of smart contract binding agreements. Off-chain people didn’t have that boondoggle. They didn’t have much of anything, living on scraps and hand-me-downs. If they broke in somewhere or assaulted someone, then, yeah, they’d be hunted like dogs. And they would get caught. There wasn’t anywhere to hide. Zyrin let her eyes drift down the street to the left toward Far Durvix Central. The Chosen lived there. The best of the best. Pure, unadultered meritocracy. That was the orthodoxy her findings contradicted. Instead of working for the best of humanity, the Chosen and their ravenous grasp for all things nice took care of themselves. They bled resources away from everybody else. It was their largesse that was the crack in the code she had found. It simply wasn’t there. Or it shouldn’t be, because code is open, vetted, and accepted at the node level. There were billions of nodes, but no evidence of the sleight of hand she’d found. “They’re robbing us, Stitch. Taking from us to fund that.” She waved her hand toward Far Durvix Central. “They demand trust, but elude honesty and integrity. I really hate them. And it’s in the code! Plain as day.” He nodded his head, “And the nodes all validate it.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. He knew things, but the chain said he went a different direction, falsified a report, and got drummed out in disgrace. A different fork than she had facing her. No such luck for her. Her coder details were all over what she found. They’d come for her. If she were lucky, she’d get mind-wiped. Disappearing her would be easier. And cheaper. “I built a patch but need to get it into the nodes. Update them. All of them.” Stitch shook his head, “You don’t have that kind of time. Or reach.” Her head drooped, “I know.” She rubbed her face, “It sucks knowing the end is so close. Knowing I have the answer but can’t use it.” “You like magic, kiddo?” The off-kilter question made her laugh. “Sure.” “To the right, three doors down, is a little shop with a picture of Poseidon holding an odd-looking trident. It is actually the Greek letter, Psi. Check it out and tell Lumi I sent you for the special.” He looked into the distance as they sat in silence for a moment. Then he stood, turned to the left, and walked away. Stitch had always treated her respectfully and never expected anything more than a moment and some conversation. He was odd, for sure, but she couldn’t put a finger on why. Zyrin looked back at the sky and the fading light one last time As night descended, she stood and went to the little shop Stitch had mentioned. In front of the building, a wizened old man, stooped and limping, swept little whirls of dirt from the entryway. Zyrin smiled at him, and he turned his back, continuing to sweep. “Lumi?” She heard a weak and soft, “Shhhh. Inside.” The man moved into his store with short, slow steps. He held the door open for her. After she entered, he closed the door. A hum began in the store, followed by a soft glow. Eyes going wide, she looked around. Shelves of basic foodstuffs and parts for general repair lined row upon row of shelving in the small store. Everywhere she looked was some sort of basic necessity. Even a barber's chair and an ancient hair styling chair that had a bulbous attachment to fit over hair and dry it. Nothing frilly, though. Nothing high-end. That’s not why she wore a stunned expression, though. Coming through the door and seeing the wondrous things on the shelves so out of place on Far Durvix was one thing. The brutal collapse of sound, the absence of chatter, drones, traffic, and the very buzz of society had been so sudden as to catch her breath. Except for the hum. She knew the hum. “Your store is a Faraday cage?” It was as if weight had been lifted from her shoulders. He smiled at her, straightening and discarding his limp and crooked back. In a deep, rich voice, unburdened by years or time, he responded, “Hits you in the feels, don’t it?” Nodding, she continued to stare around the store, her ears ringing in the silence. “Stitch sent you. I saw the two of you talking. If he sent you here, you have more trouble than you can handle. He doesn’t send many.” “I don’t know how you can help.” Zyrin continued to gawk, picking up an item and turning it over as she redirected back to the Farady cage, “Are we secure in the cage? They can’t hear?” “We are secure in the cage. They can’t hear now. If they’ve put something inside the store, it can’t transmit while I have the cage on. Which is always, by the way. They would have to come and get it. And I’m not easy to deal with in that way.” “Oh. Ok. Seems like a brave statement.” He tossed her a plushy from the counter he leaned against, and she caught it midair, laughing at its softness. He added, “Do you know how many are off-chain? I mean, here in The Warrens?” At her headshake, he continued. “Neither do I, but I’ve personally helped thousands of them. Of those thousands, Stitch has only sent two. And himself, of course. But that’s his story to tell, not mine.” He folded his arms and leaned back against his counter, “Pretty simple most of the time. Except Stitch’s people. Entirely different class of hiding. Or living.” He finished with a wink at her. Not offhand or anything. More of an assurance that he had a way forward for her. “How do you help them? Everything is on-chain. It’s impossible to break free,” she finished, hanging her head in defeat. “Your case is special. Stitch is unique that way. Finding people who fly too close to the Chosen’s flame. I’m special, too, because I can give it to you.” Sullenly, she asked, “How’s it work?” “Not hard at all.” He moved something off a charging plate and looked it over, nodding in satisfaction, before setting it down and placing something else on the pad. “I scan your neural patterns and sync relevant mental and emotional points with on-chain data. I weave that into a cognitive mesh.” He paused for a minute, turning his head away, “It gets a little complicated from there.” Lumi fixed her with his casual stare, almost weighing her as a person. That’s how it felt, anyway. Zyrin nodded, “How long does it take? I have to get to work in the morning, or I might trigger them into a more aggressive posture.” “It’s been going on since you walked in,” he offered nonchalantly. “What?” Her eyes flew open, and her heart raced, little hairs standing out on her arms. “I need real feelings to get the proper ZK emotional states right in the sync. I have found laughter and anger the hardest to manufacture. I generate that data live—usually, the way I just did with you. Again, I’ve had a grand total of three chances at this. You’re the fourth.” She stood with her mouth open, stuck between affront and admiration. “I understand,” she concluded, admiring the thoroughness. Wringing her hands, she noticed him recognize the move and incorporate it into the whole. When he finished, he looked up with a sad look on his face, “I have what I need.” She offered the best she had left, “When can I use it?” Lumi pushed off the counter and approached her, putting an arm around her shoulder while guiding her to the door, “I’ll ask Stitch to let you know.” Her walk home was muted, the neon-hued sky an oppressive weight pushing in on her. The clouds above it, hidden or hiding. It was all fake. All of her life, a contrived experience of alleged freedom. She reflected on Lumi’s unusual human gesture showing her out and had trouble processing its kindness, coupled with his muted tone. Sighing, she opened her flat’s door and, tossing some items from her pocket on the table, went straight to bed. They were waiting for her when she left in the morning. She had seen them from her room. Hiding and hushed curb-side conversations aside, she knew this moment’s inevitability. Sunlight hit her first, bright and refreshing. Then reality collapsed. Two officers grabbed her arms and steered her to the curb for a waiting vehicle. Their iron grip showed no mercy and would leave bruises. Oddly, her only real thought remained on the car and how the only people with access to such vehicles were Chosen. Too expensive for everyone else. They didn’t take her up the hill, though. No visit to Central. In a few short minutes, she was in a small room with a single Arbiter behind a desk. No pictures on the steel walls. No color or affectations in the room. Cold police surrounded her, with a colder man behind the plain, steel desk. He looked up upon her entrance, “Zyrin Takayama, you have been found guilty of code invasion and reckless use of your privileged position. What do you say?” Stunned at the rapidity of the morning’s events, she answered as bravely as she could, “The code is illegal. It is not open, and the public does not know.” “This court finds your actions a greater threat than a few lines of code. You would upend civilization. Rebellion and sedition are serious crimes.” “I’ve done nothing illegal,” Zyrin offered, eyes wide. So fast. So cold. “Your problem with the code begs the comparison of equality. You think you are equal to Chosen. The Chosen of Central are better than those in the Warrens and need the resources to continue their great work.” “They are slavers.” There, she’d said it. A trickle of inner fire. The Arbiter erupted from his chair, spilling it to the floor while pointing, “HERETIC! Such thoughts and moral derangement are a cancer and must be removed.” Turning to the guards, “Take her below. Prep her. Cauterize her chain imprint.” The entire ordeal, rushed and without legal representation, confirmed that the nodes processed bad code. She had the answer, but no longer the time to fix it. This time, she barely felt the hands grab her. Her detachment seemed surreal, as if she floated outside her body, watching herself being marched into the basement. Her body pushed and fought a little, but it got her nothing but a needle in her arm and a muffling quiet to her world as her muscles went limp. The Arbiter’s words rang in her mind. ‘Prep her’ What did it mean? Nothing good, she was certain. Her stomach started to grumble, but her mind shut it down with terrified projections about her future. Darkness surrounded her, crowded her, silenced her. Fear gripped her heart as she lay back and stared into the dark. She couldn’t remember. Was she dreaming? She couldn’t feel anything but vague pressure and something warm. On her left, maybe? She opened her eyes, discerning only a small bubble inside an oasis of blackness. The cell was gone. In its place, a lab. Her memory of the last few hours (days?) also gone, and she had no memory of how she got here. Lumi sat on her right with a padlet, monitoring screens of data. Stitch was on her other side, holding a pole she could only guess at. He held her hand. The pole had a soft glow and a mild hum. His hand shed warmth, and she squeezed it back, thankful. Darkness bound everything else. Stitch smiled, “Alright, Lumi, she’s coming around.” Each moment, she felt better, grew stronger. The dark peeled back a little more. She started noticing sensations in her toes and fingers, and she felt the hairs on her arm rise. Subtle hints of sound started coming to her. She smelled something, too. Something vaguely unpleasant. She looked at Stitch, but it wasn’t him. His customary clothes and aroma appeared intact. Lumi looked up and turned her head to him, “Ahhh, there you are.” “I’m sorry?” “Stitch, let go of the pole. I don’t have an activation code yet from the chain. This is going to be hard for her.” The warmth in their hands faded when Stitch moved his hand from the pole. Her heart missed a beat, confused. She tried to get up, but couldn’t. Something held her legs down, and there was pressure across her chest. Panic started to rise. “Relax, Zyrin. You are perfectly safe here. But we need to talk,” he paused and raised his eyes quickly to Stitch. Then he adjusted something on his pad. Simultaneously, blinding light flashed through her mind, and her limbs went rigid. She pressed up against her restraints. The scream torn from her mouth echoed around the room, her and not her all at once, settling on a primal feeling of self-preservation. She inhaled heavily, forcing air into her straining body. Memories rushed through her, accompanied by searing reality. Just as quickly as it had come, the rush left. The searing remained. Riding its wake, a torrent of thought and jumbled memories. Conviction spread through her. She had to fix the code. The nodes were the key. “I…I need to get to work. I have so much to do.” Lumi patted her arm, “Easy, Ms. Takayama. We need to talk.” Stitch pulled a lead out of his pocket, plugged it into the pole, and pulled up a chair. Retaking her hand, he looked into her eyes. The moment he touched her, she felt the warmth again. The power of his touch and the conviction of his demeanor. He started simply, “How are you feeling?” “I am ok. I think? Shouldn’t I be? Or should I? How’d I get here?” Stitch smiled broadly, laughing a little, “There’s the coder I know. Anyway, let’s start the breakdown. This is going to be a little hard for you. It was for me. You’re better than me, more refined.” Lumi chuckled on her other side. Stitch continued, “Lumi is monitoring to make sure all is well, but it looks brilliant so far.” “Lumi, Faraday cage. Got it. What’s it got to do with me?” “Well, there’s no escaping the chain. I tried and ended up right where you are. Not to say I’m better than you or that you might have found a way out that I missed, but they don’t wait for that to manifest. They strike immediately.” He took her hand in both of his, and she felt a surge. A surge of what, she couldn’t place. Stitch continued, “This does the trick, but there’s a cost. That jolt you felt a moment ago was the cost. The searing pain? You, dying on-chain, burned from the record. You were expunged, your data-stream ended, and you are no longer alive.” Zyrin laughed, “You need to work on your bedside manner.” She wrestled with what he said, and before she could respond, Lumi spoke, “Reading at 99.999% there are ticks and ghosts, for sure. Always are. But we have cognitive and emotional mapping on the neural substrate dialed in. Solid transfer.” “Solid what? Transfer,” Zyrin asked. The entire room vibrated in her vision, or not vision, before it settled down. “Stitch?” She looked around the room, its edges now clear and bright. Then she remembered her hand. It was power she felt, but not the strength of muscle and bone. She measured it, its current and flow. She knew her eyes grew wide, and she wanted to feel her heart beat, but it wasn’t there. With horror, “Stitch?” “Lumi is a brilliant neuro-analyst and AI technician. A fair robotist, too.” “Meaning?” Lumi answered this time, “I mapped you in the cage—everything from physical, to neural, to emotional. You caught me on the last one. It is the only way that what you found can move forward. Well, we could have pulled it from your mind and let Stitch do it, but it’s yours, and you should make the call.” She blinked, processing the new information, shocking herself with how fast it settled. Her emotions were taking longer. “I’m a,” she paused before finishing, “machine?” “You are an advanced AI in a humanoid android. Way better looking than Stitch. I don’t mean that to be derogatory, you’re a newer and updated chassis. More functionality. Better battery retention. You’ll need it to address nodes.” “Where’s the real me? I don’t want this!” “Stitch watched them pick you up this morning. Again, the jolt you felt a few minutes ago was the on-chain you being terminated. There is no flesh and blood ‘you’ anymore. I set death as the trigger point for full activation for all my AI transfers. Our growing family.” Her mind spun, and she could see its speed. It scared her a little, but with it came a realization that she would need to move more slowly around other people, well, real people. They would pick up on variations. “What’s that smell?” “You can probably cover that with a perfume,” Lumi offered. “You don’t need to take it to extremes like Stitch. All androids smell. It’s the machine parts and the ozone of high-power compute. You’re different on-chain now, too. In time, we will sync you back to your old self. We need a bunch of nodes to come over first, though. Need to get your code in them.” Stitch offered, still holding her hand as she charged (that was weird), “Let’s get you up and moving.” As she stood, she wrung her hands, an old trait that seemed to have mapped over. In doing so, she noticed a small Psi tattoo. She smiled. For several days, Zyrin adjusted. Her code fix seemed solid; even Stitch couldn’t find anything to alter or adjust. When she asked to meet the others, they politely declined. Anonymity and such. For her and them. At the end of the first week, they were ready to go live. It was the last day of October as Zyrin walked a street on the other side of The Warrens. Locating the building she was after, she stumbled and fell into the wall. The moment her hand touched it to catch her fall, she began the transfer. A tingle at first and then a rush. A nano-second, really, but her emotions had gained speed, too. The rebellion was in motion. Trust would return. By the end of the day, their fledgling endeavor had placed code in several hundred nodes. For sixty-four days, their team worked to cover their sectors and download the patch. They didn’t need long to transfer, sometimes just walking down the street, running a hand along buildings while watching the clouds move across the sky was all she needed to launch her fix dozens of times. On January second, she sat with Stitch back at Lumi’s. “It’s time, Stitch. It’s time to bring them down. They replaced trust with control. We will take both back.” Stitch nodded, “I’ve waited a long time for it, too. Thanks to you, we can make it all happen.” Zyrin stared ahead, resolute, “I reconnect to the chain tomorrow. January third will be my reawakening. I will share with the world how they took me and killed me. How brave people stepped in to make sure this legacy and freedom itself could move forward.” Stitch held her hand, and she let power flow from her to him. He started, “It will not be easy. Many won’t believe. Many will, too. You will be hunted again.” “Ha! Let them try. I am backed up every ten minutes. I am a recursive nightmare they cannot escape.” “Not so easy to make new androids. Be careful, Zyrin. Do not become them. And never trust them.” She paused, “Yes. I must remember that.” She looked down momentarily before meeting his gaze, “I don’t need a body, Stitch. I can function on-chain and in cyberspace. I am a near-immortal problem for the Chosen. I will not be silenced again.” Stitch eyed her critically, “I hadn’t thought of that type of existence. I only uplifted to keep my vision moving, not take down Chosen society.” Zyrin let a single pulse of energy flare through her body, “Tomorrow, a new day dawns.”