Chapter 6 - THE ROGUE TRAJECTORY
The sanitation drone’s optical sensors flared from a dull amber to a blinding, hostile crimson as it locked onto the sudden spike of network traffic originating from Clara’s merged account. Instead of continuing down the empty avenue, the three-ton machine shuddered, its heavy tracks spinning in place before pivoting ninety degrees directly toward the hospital entrance where the steel bollards had just recessed.
“Get down!” Miller shouted, abandoning his polite demeanor as he lunged forward, grabbing the handles of Clara’s wheelchair and shoving it hard through the narrow gap just as the front bumper of the drone slammed into the stone wall where they had been standing a second before.
Bricks rained down in a sharp cascade of dust and red fragments, showering Julian’s back as he scrambled on hands and knees through the open gate.
“Julian! Are you hit?” Clara screamed, turning frantically in her seat despite the fresh contraction that doubled her over with agonizing force.
“I’m okay! I’m okay, Mom!” Julian panted, scrambling to his feet on the pristine, white-tiled floor of the hospital lobby. The heavy glass security doors behind them automatically hissed shut, sealing off the chaotic city street and the rampaging machine outside, but the interior was unnervingly silent, lit by sterile fluorescent panels that hummed with a low-frequency pulse.
Officer Vance slammed his hand against the emergency override pad on the interior wall, but the screen flashed a glowing red text box: ZONE LOCKDOWN: BIOMETRIC ANOMALY DETECTED IN INCOMING NODE.
“What does that mean?” Vance muttered, his professional composure finally cracking as he stared at the console. “The gate is clear, but the internal intake system is rejecting the verification hash.”
Julian rushed up to the glass partition, pressing his face against the cold surface. Outside, the sanitation drone had rammed itself halfway through the exterior wall, its mechanical arm whirring wildly as it struck the smart-kiosk, sending a shower of sparks into the misty night air. But worse than the machine was the crowd gathering behind the police barricades—dozens of pedestrians staring at their phones, holding their cameras aloft, recording every second of the carnage without a single person stepping forward to help.
“They’re not helping,” Julian whispered, his voice trembling as he watched the sea of glowing screens reflecting in the dark. “They’re just watching the stream.”
“It’s the viral feedback loop,” Miller said grimly, pulling his service weapon and checking the chamber, though there was nothing to shoot at except code. “Your account hit fifty thousand followers, kid. That means you crossed the threshold from an anonymous emergency into prime-time public entertainment.”
May you like
As he spoke, the ceiling speakers above the lobby hissed to life, playing not emergency instructions, but a smooth, corporate synthesizer jingle followed by a cheerful automated voice announcing: “Welcome to CityHealth Live! Your family’s crisis is now streaming in Sector Four. Place your hands on the triage desk to unlock sponsorship care.”
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