The rain in the Under-Net didn't fall; it cascaded in rhythmic pulses, a persistent gray static that blurred the neon outlines of the sprawl below. This wasn't the polished, clinical simulation of the Aegis Lab. This was the "Low-Band," the digital basement where the discarded data of a billion users settled into a gritty, functional reality. Here, the buildings were constructed from repurposed code and the citizens were the "Glitch-Born" outcasts who had either escaped the corporate grids or been deleted by them.
I stood by the window of our safe-house, a cramped unit tucked into the ribs of a decommissioned server-farm. My reflection in the glass was stable now, no longer flickering with the blue interference of the Aegis uplink. I looked like myself tired, sharp-edged, and wearing the
