The First Road stretched out before us like a ribbon of liquid mercury, suspended in a boundless expanse of white light. It wasn’t made of asphalt or binary code; it was a physical manifestation of the collective human memory of travel. Every open highway, every dusty trail, and every high-speed straightaway that had ever ignited a rider's soul was woven into its surface.
"This is it," Dax whispered, his grip tightening on the handle of the briefcase containing the Origin-Code. "The line between what they made us and who we are."
The Norton-construct had evolved once more. It was no longer just sapphire or amber; it pulsed with a steady, pearlescent glow the color of a new dawn. I climbed onto the seat, and as my hands touched the grips, the HUD didn't show maps or tactical data. It show
