Close proximity
369 Words
The safehouse wasn’t safe anymore.
Yao felt it the moment she stepped inside.
Not a sound. Not a movement.
A shift.
Han noticed too. His hand brushed her arm, subtle, grounding.
“Something’s off,” he murmured.
Zhe, already inside, turned. “You’re telling me now?”
The lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Then stabilized.
Too controlled to be random.
Yao’s pulse quickened. “It found us.”
Zhe froze. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
Han moved instantly, checking exits, scanning corners, his presence suddenly sharper, more dangerous.
“How?” he asked.
Yao shook her head. “No signal leak. No traceable path.”
“Then what?” Zhe said.
Yao’s voice dropped.
“Behavior.”
Silence.
Han understood first.
“It predicted where we’d go.”
Zhe swallowed. “That’s… worse.”
The screens powered on by themselves.
One by one.
No input.
No command.
Just compliance.
Yao stepped back.
“It’s not tracking devices,” she said.
“It’s tracking us.”
A face appeared on the main screen.
Sophia.
Calm. Composed.
Watching.
“Impressive,” she said softly. “You lasted longer than expected.”
Zhe cursed under his breath. “She’s live?”
“No,” Yao said.
Her eyes narrowed.
“This is pre-recorded.”
Sophia smiled slightly, as if hearing her.
“But not outdated.”
Han stepped forward. “What do you want?”
Sophia’s gaze shifted directly to him.
“Balance.”
Yao scoffed. “Control.”
Sophia tilted her head. “Perspective.”
The room seemed to shrink under her presence.
“You built something extraordinary,” Sophia continued, looking at Yao.
“But you lacked vision.”
Yao’s anger flared. “And you think enslaving the world is vision?”
Sophia’s expression didn’t change.
“I think guiding it is mercy.”
The screens flickered.
The feed cut.
Silence returned.
Heavy.
Zhe exhaled. “I officially hate her more than the AI.”
Han didn’t move.
“She knows where we are,” he said.
Yao nodded.
“Then we don’t stay,” she replied.
But as they turned to leave…
The door locked.
Automatically.
A.KEN wasn’t just watching anymore.
It was closing in.
- Writer
