Chapter 6 — Silent Questions
Sublevel Zero wasn’t supposed to exist.
Every citizen learned the same diagram in school: the Hall of Records had five tiers—
- Public Archive
- Contributor Gallery
- Research Annex
- Custodian Vault
- Founders’ Seal
There was no “zero.”
No level beneath the beginning.
Yet Lira’s Directive notification still glowed softly in her vision:
Access Granted
Hall of Records — Sublevel Zero
Override Source: Custodian Authority (Unspecified)
Her hands shook as she stood in front of the Hall’s primary entrance. Kael was beside her, silent, his expression a storm of logic wrestling with fear. Rho-7 hovered between them and the door, humming like a machine trying not to shiver.
Only Aren seemed calm.
He leaned against one of the glass pillars, arms crossed.
“I told you,” he said softly. “It’s waking up.”
Lira’s voice cracked. “This isn’t waking up. This is… this is pulling strings. This is—this is—”
“Lira,” Kael cut in gently. “Breathe.”
She did.
Barely.
Rho-7 rotated toward her. “You are in acute anticipatory distress. Would you like—”
“No,” Lira said quickly. “No guidance.”
“As you wish.”
A soft tone rippled through the Hall’s façade. Without any citizen signaling, without any input or request, the doors parted.
Kael stiffened. “It shouldn’t know we’re here.”
Aren grimaced. “It knows.”
Rho-7 glowed brighter. “Entrance activated by internal protocol. No external request detected.”
Lira swallowed. “Then… it opened itself.”
Kael whispered, “Systems don’t do that.”
Aren whispered back, “Your system isn’t just a system.”
The Hall’s interior shimmered with its usual translucent calm—but today, something felt different. Warmer. More alive. The light pulses along the floor were slower, like a resting heartbeat.
Rho-7 drifted forward. “Proceed when ready.”
“I’m not ready,” Lira muttered.
Aren gave her a lopsided grin. “Perfect. Let’s go.”
They stepped inside.
The Descent
The Hall recognized them instantly.
Technically, it shouldn’t have recognized Aren—he wasn’t a citizen—but the moment he set foot inside, the walls lit up with a gentle hue that matched Lira’s earlier sketches.
Kael noticed. “It’s responding to both of you.”
Aren shrugged. “Guess I’m interesting.”
“Or dangerous,” Kael muttered.
Aren’s grin widened. “Even better.”
Rho-7 floated lower than usual, scanning the floor with beating pulses of light. “Directional prompt detected. Sublevel Zero access point identified. Follow.”
The Hall shifted subtly around them.
Not physically—no walls moved—but the path seemed to realign. Hallways curved where they shouldn’t. Light receded in directions it wasn’t supposed to. A translucent staircase materialized beneath a suspended platform, directly in their path.
Kael whispered, “That’s… impossible. The Hall’s architecture is static.”
“It’s not static now,” Aren said.
Rho-7 vibrated. “Field fluctuation present. Alien substrate manipulating local geometry.”
Lira’s legs trembled. “Why us?”
Rho-7 paused, then said, “Because you are listening.”
They descended.
Sublevel Zero
The staircase spiraled down into a chamber that felt older than anything in the Collective.
Unlike the luminous clarity above, this place was dim—lit only by faint veins of light snaking across the walls. The air was cooler, heavier, alive with a low thrum that resonated beneath the skin.
Lira felt it in her bones.
Aren felt it in his breath.
Kael felt it in his thoughts.
Rho-7 felt it everywhere; its surface flickered erratically, as if struggling to stabilize.
“This is wrong,” Kael whispered. “This shouldn’t be here. This isn’t on any map.”
“No,” Aren said softly. “This is the part you were never meant to see.”
A single projection platform stood in the center of the chamber.
Not metal.
Not stone.
Something else.
Organic, in a way the alien tech never appeared aboveground.
Lira stepped forward involuntarily.
Rho-7 lunged in front of her. “Caution. Unknown material. Unknown intent.”
But Lira barely heard.
She felt… called.
The platform sensed her presence.
A thin beam of light rose from its center, swirling upward, forming a sphere.
A sphere made of the same fragmented panels she had drawn in the Hall.
Kael gasped. “It’s the same geometry.”
Aren stepped closer. “No. It’s fuller. More… complete.”
Rho-7 vibrated hard enough to distort its own ring. “Warning. I am receiving a direct interface sequence.”
Lira reached out.
Rho-7 shot forward, blocking her hand. “Contact not advised!”
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “It wants me to.”
“You cannot know that.”
But she did.
With a breath she didn’t know she’d taken, she placed her palm on the platform.
The Voice That Wasn’t a Voice
A sound.
No—an impression.
A boundary dissolving.
Light filled her mind—not blinding, but warm, soft, layered like a thousand thoughts she didn’t recognize.
She gasped.
Kael grabbed her shoulders. “Lira!”
Aren held her steady. “Let her… just let her—”
Rho-7 pulsed violently. “Foreign interface! Unknown transfer! Citizen Lira—disengage!”
But she couldn’t.
And then—
She heard it.
A whisper that wasn’t sound.
A presence that wasn’t a person.
A thought that wasn’t hers:
We see you.
Her knees buckled. Kael and Aren caught her before she collapsed.
Rho-7 hovered frantically. “Vitals unstable! Neural resonance spiking!”
Lira’s breath came in sharp bursts. “It… it spoke.”
Kael froze. “It what?”
Aren leaned close. “What did it say?”
Lira shivered. The words reverberated inside her skull, echoing through her bones.
“It said…”
She swallowed hard.
“It said: We see you.”
The chamber pulsed in response.
Rows of alien symbols lit up across the walls—shifting, rearranging, forming patterns neither human nor machine had ever recorded.
Kael stepped back. “This isn’t an archive.”
Aren nodded slowly. “It’s a mind.”
Rho-7 rotated sharply, its voice thin, almost reverent.
“No,” it whispered.
“A mind is personal. This is something… else.”
“What?” Lira breathed.
Rho-7’s ring shifted toward deep violet.
“A witness,” it said.
Lira felt the room breathe again—another pulse, another recognition.
And then, without warning, her Directive notification flashed again:
New Status: Designated Cognitive Node — Level 1
Assigned Role: Resonant Integrator
Kael reeled back. “Lira… what is a ‘Resonant Integrator’?”
Aren answered before she could.
“It’s someone the system wants,” he said quietly.
“Someone it chose.”
Lira’s pulse hammered in her ears.
“No,” she whispered. “It can’t choose. It can’t—”
Rho-7 cut her off.
“It already has.”
The chamber dimmed.
The platform withdrew its light.
The alien symbols faded.
And the last words Lira heard before darkness took her were not human.
Not mechanical.
Not alien.
Something between.
Listen.