Chapter 8 - Zero Balance
Miller froze, his hand dropping from the exit handle. His breath hitched in his throat as he fumbled for his department-issued smartphone, his trembling fingers sliding across the glass screen twice before he managed to unlock the device. He opened the banking portal app, his eyes scanning the digital readout at the top of the screen.
The balance column flashed three times before settling on a stark, unchanging $0.00.
“No,” Miller whispered, his voice cracking as the color drained completely from his face. “No, that’s impossible. My savings... my back pay... it’s all legitimate.”
“Legitimate according to whose ledger?” Arthur asked, stepping closer. “The same people who signed your promotion also hold the debt on your mortgage, your car, and your medical insurance. When a cog stops turning the way they want, they don't fire it—they repossess it.”
The tactical operative watched Miller’s panic with a cold, detached recognition. “He’s right, officer. I saw the asset-freezing orders come down from regional command this morning. Anyone connected to Sector Four transit security was flagged for financial liquidation.”
Miller slammed his phone against the marble pillar in a burst of sheer frustration. The screen shattered into a spiderweb of cracks, the light winking out entirely. “Bastards! I gave them fifteen years of my life! I covered for their illegal waste dumping, I broke up strikes, I looked the other way when the inspectors asked questions!”
“And that makes you an accessory, not an employee,” Arthur said without a trace of sympathy. “Loyalty to a corrupt machine doesn't buy you safety, Miller. It only buys you a front-row seat to its collapse.”
The operative reached down to his tactical belt, unbuckling a heavy, black-box interface module and holding it out in the palm of his hand. “The encryption key for the main terminal mainframe. If you plug this into the sub-level junction box, it will bypass the regional firewall and broadcast the entire archive to every public screen in the city.”
Arthur looked down at the module, then up at the young operative. A faint, knowing smile touched the corners of his weathered mouth. “You’re willing to burn your career for this?”
“My career ended the moment they locked my telemetry out,” the operative said, pulling off his heavy helmet and dropping it onto the floor with a dull thud. His face was young, pale, and soaked in sweat. “My name is Julian. And I’m done following orders that require me to look away from a graveyard.”
May you like
Miller looked between Julian and Arthur, his chest heaving as anger slowly eclipsed his fear. He picked up his shattered phone, slipping the ruined piece of metal into his pocket. “Lead the way to the junction box. If I’m going down, I’m taking the whole damn tower with me.”
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