THE BOY WHO CRIED THE ALGORITHM AND THE GRANDFATHER WHO SOLD THE SKY

The cold light from the neural-interface halo cast an eerie, ethereal glow over Leo’s motionless face. The toddler didn't blink, his small chest rising and falling in a rhythmic, mechanical cadence that was entirely out of sync with natural human breathing.

Arthur clenched his fists, stepping closer despite the barrels of the enforcers' rifles pointing directly at his heart. "He's just a child, Thomas. He has a family, a history, a life that belongs to him, not your balance sheet."

"History is a luxury we abandoned when the world burned, Arthur," Higgins replied coldly, standing beside the medical chair and resting a hand on the edge of the halo apparatus. "Order, efficiency, compliance—those are the only currencies that matter now. And your grandson is the richest asset in the city."

Maya crept silently along the shadows of the shipping containers near the back of the warehouse, raising her pneumatic rifle and aiming directly at the generator unit powering the halo. Miller covered her from behind a stack of wooden crates, his pistol steady despite his bleeding shoulder.

"You haven't won yet, Higgins," Maya called out, stepping out from the shadows into the harsh halogen light.

Higgins didn't even flinch. He simply smiled, gesturing to the enforcers flanking him. "You really thought I wouldn't anticipate a rescue attempt? This warehouse was designated as a secondary honey-pot the moment you escaped the precinct."

Suddenly, the side doors of the warehouse blew inward with a deafening crash, and a second squad of enforcers swarmed into the building, cutting off Maya and Miller’s escape route and trapping them against the back wall.

Miller dropped his weapon to the floor, raising his hands slowly. "It's over, Maya. Don't force a firefight."

Maya lowered her rifle with obvious reluctance, glaring daggers at Higgins.

Higgins turned his attention back to Arthur, his expression hardening. "Now, old man, you get to watch as your stubborn little rebellion is permanently deleted from the record."

Higgins reached up and gripped the primary activation lever on the side of the neural halo. With a heavy, metallic snap, he pulled it downward.

The blue data light pulsing between Leo’s temples suddenly flared into a blinding, incandescent white. The toddler’s body stiffened violently against the straps of the medical chair, and a tiny, heartbreaking sob escaped his lips.

"No, leave grandpa, please, please!" Leo cried out in a sudden, desperate burst of genuine human anguish that cut through the sterile air of the warehouse like a knife.