The defect

Chapter3:The reunion

I still daydream about the day I met Natalie. To be completely honest with myself, I have never actually seen her in physical, biological

reality. The only interaction I ever had with her was through that three-dimensional HAP service terminal a year ago. Sometimes, during my long walks through the lower-sector slums, I think I prefer it that way. It is probably better if our paths never cross again, because a guy like me would easily find a way to blow it. What could someone like me possibly have to offer a girl like Natalie? I am just a five-foot-ten, average-looking technician with zero prospects, a frayed jacket, and a broken mind. I don't possess a single thing that could complement a life like hers.

A sharp, synthetic tone cut through my thoughts as the closing shift alarm echoed across the

massive, raecemium-walled auditorium. Instantly, the quiet tension of the room shattered. Some personnel immediately pushed back

their raecemium desk dividers and headed for the glowing exit arche. Others lingered behind, their blue-glazed eyes staring blankly as they desperately tried to log extra performance metrics to please the oversight AI. A few engaged in the usual, HAP-optimized small talk with their neighboring cubicle workers—conversations devoid of pauses, stutters, or genuine laughter.

I remained entirely still, forcing myself to wait for a few minutes until the initial bottleneck

of the mass exodus subsided. The weight of my new suspension and the devastating forty percent pay cut pressed down

heavily on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I couldn't bring myself to face the crowd yet.

When the exit lanes finally cleared of the blue-eyed crowd, I quietly packed my few personal belongings—a portable diagnostic probe and a worn-out data cable—into my bag and left the workspace behind.

As I stepped out of the towering HAP Kroy Wen headquarters into the damp, chemical

evening air, my gaze immediately landed on Henry. He was leaning casually against his high-end, raecemium-frame sportbike, looking like a

model from a magazine. A small cluster of girls from the administration department was crowded around him, laughing and flirting under the buzzing neon streetlights. Henry looked up, his eyes cutting straight through the crowd to lock onto me, and he raised his hand to wave.

In any other circumstance, a normal bystander would assume a guy like that was waving at

someone important. Knowing my own low standing in the social hierarchy, my immediate instinct was to look behind me. 'There is no way he's acknowledging me,' I thought.But Henry politely bid the girls goodnight, rolling his heavy bike forward as he began

walking directly toward me. His smile was warm and disarming. Once he closed the distance, he

spoke. "Liam, wait up."

A jolt of genuine shock coursed through me. Not only had he gone out of his way to approach

me, but he had actually used my real name instead of his usual academy nickname, "Lam".

"Long time no see," he said smoothly, adjusting his pace to match my stride as we walked

along the metallic, rain-slicked pavement. "I heard about what happened with your supervisor

today. A forty percent pay cut is incredibly harsh, especially given your raw performance

metrics."

"Yeah... news travels fast in the sector, I guess," I stammered, my brain completely glitching

out. I was so stunned by his easygoing, friendly demeanor that I couldn't even form a defensive,

sarcastic thought. Standing right next to "The Specimen" up close usually fueled my physical

insecurities, but he didn't look down on me at all. He looked like an old friend catching up on

old times.

"It's a flawed system," Henry said, his voice dropping into a soft, sympathetic tone that felt

completely, terrifyingly sincere. "They don't know how to value a mind like yours, Liam.

Honestly, I've always admired your work ethic. You handle anomalies the rest of the department

can't even touch. In fact, I have a private, off-the-books project I've been trying to solve, and you

are quite literally the only technician in Kroy Wen with the specific talents to handle it."

Stopping under the flickering glow of a transit sign, I looked at him with obvious confusion.

"A private project? Why are you asking me, Henry? We haven't exchanged a single voluntary

word since the academy."

He laughed quietly, a bright, charming sound that felt completely natural.

"Because I only trust the best. Look, I know it's sudden, and I know we weren't close in

school. But this project pays a premium—more than enough to wipe out that forty percent deficit

and secure your mother's upcoming medical expenses. I want to help you out, and you'd be

doing me a massive favor in return."

For a split second, a heavy wave of relief washed over me, and the crushing financial panic in

my chest eased slightly. He didn't seem like he was pulling a prank; he just seemed like a

privileged guy with resources who genuinely wanted to collaborate.

When we finally reached the perimeter of my sector's low-income residential block, I turned

toward the entrance. Above the rusted frame, the low-tier facial scanner emitted its faint, green

laser-like beam, taking an agonizingly long time to confirm my identity.

Behind me, Henry adjusted his bike, his disarming smile still perfectly in place. "Meet me at

the sector park at eight p.m. Bring your mobile diagnostic terminal, and we can go over the

details. What do you say?"I grabbed the edge of the opening door, still trying to process the sheer luck of the timing.

"I'll think about it," I muttered.

"I really hope you do. See you tonight, Liam," he said warmly.

He logged onto his bike, the engine letting out a low, smooth hum as he glided down the

street. I watched him go, completely unaware of the invisible threads he had just tied around my

wrists. He had played me like a flawless instrument, using my desperation and his own effortless

charm to make his trap look like a miracle.

Henry lived ten mega-complexes away from this sector—a pristine, high-security

neighborhood reserved exclusively for wealthy corporate executives and high-ranking citizens. I

turned and walked across the dim, utilitarian halls of my own building, entering the rickety

elevator which took me to the fourth floor. Room 4C to be exact. When I reached our door, I

entered our numeric passcode. The system took a while to load, its processing chips outdated. I

constantly wished my apartment had the facial recognition technology Henry's neighborhood

had, but it was just too expensive to install.

The door finally hissed open. I entered the apartment, removed my shoes, and walked

through the short hallway. To my left, I saw my sister in the cramped living room using our

outdated HAP projector to watch an old movie.

"Welcome home, big bro," she said to me, her eyes never leaving the flashing, translucent

screen.

"Yeah, thanks. Aren't you supposed to be reading for midterms, Elena? Your grades last term

were really bad."

"Crucial adjustment, big bro. They weren't that bad," she replied with a giant smile on her

face. "Besides, I was named the most innovative student last term. One movie won't affect my

grades that badly."

"Okay, just remember after this movie, you have to go and study," I replied in a firm voice.

I picked up my bag and headed for my room. Sometimes I wished I was like my sister; I

wished I was able to smile no matter how bad things got. Before my dad died, my sister was a

serious crybaby. She would cry for the slightest things like toys, vegetables, and she would even

cry after waking up from a nap. But after our father died, she put a smile on her face no matter

what. Even when my mother was hospitalized when Elena was only fourteen, she still kept on

smiling.

I always wondered how she was able to do it because of the fact that the HAP influenced

people's emotional states so heavily. Although there were rumors about people with such

immense mental fortitude that they could control their emotional state without the HAP

completely influencing them, those people were stated to be rare, non-CLICK patients. In a

world filled with compliant sardines, my sister had decided to be a dolphin.Two hours passed since I came back from work. It was now 7:00 PM, and only one hour

remained until the meeting time Henry and I had arranged. But before I could think about meeting up with him, my sister and I had to go and visit my mom in the medical facility. The commute through the rain-slicked streets felt entirely suffocating. When we finally arrived at the hospital doors, the Artificial Intelligence scanner went through our visit history and mapped our faces. The pressurized seals hissed open, and we entered following the standard protocols, walking down the sterile, cold hallways toward the room my mom was residing in.

Before we could open her door, the doctor in charge of the ward approached us. "Hi Liam and Elena, I see you came to visit your mom," he said, his posture heavy with

absolute fatigue. Elena greeted him politely, stepping forward to state how it had been a while since our last

rotation. The doctor offered a gentle, tired smile. "That is beautiful. Elena, you can go ahead and enter to see her. I just want to discuss a few updated administrative details with your brother."

Elena looked back at me. I gave her my approval by nodding, after which she stepped

through the door into my mom's room. The doctor then turned to me, his expression shifting into something far more clinical,

severe, and cold. He took me into his private office and sat me down across from his terminal. He pulled up her medical ledger, highlighting the compounding expenses of her long-term maintenance. He specifically pointed to the soaring monthly costs of the pressurized synthetic oxygen being given to her to keep her lungs functioning.

Every single word felt like a physical blow to my chest. I sat there in agonizing silence,

realizing the terrifying truth: without an immediate influx of money, the automated system would shut her oxygen off by midnight—and Henry's 8:00 PM appointment was now my only choice.