CHAPTER 4 - The Anomaly Protocol
5000 Words
Lila hadn’t expected her Monday to begin with an emergency board meeting, two caramel lattes, and a text from Damien that simply read: “Don’t trust the smiling ones.”
She stared at the message for a long moment, sitting alone in the Helix café. Her nerves were shredded from the last week’s chaos—the data breach, the Helix Core collapse, and the terrifying realization that they hadn’t destroyed all the backups. Not even close.
Across the café, Camille sat with a man in an immaculate white blazer. He was laughing, nodding, all charisma and charm. Smiling.
Lila squinted.
Smiling.
She stood abruptly, made her way across the marble floor, and slid into the seat beside Camille without an invitation.
“Morning,” she said coolly, eyes on the mystery man.
Camille raised an eyebrow. “Lila, this is Thomas Crane. Our new ethics consultant.”
Lila blinked. “Helix hired someone for ethics?”
Thomas extended a hand. “Only the best contradiction money can buy.”
Camille didn’t laugh, but her fingers tightened slightly around her coffee. Lila caught the signal.
This wasn’t just a consultant.
This was surveillance.
“So,” Lila said, plastering on her best fake smile. “You’ll be making sure we don’t cross any lines?”
Thomas gave her a lazy grin. “I’ll be assessing what lines are worth redrawing. Innovation often walks beside destruction. My job is to keep the casualties minimal.”
That was...ominous.
Camille tapped Lila’s knee under the table. The code for not here, not now.
Lila nodded stiffly. “Well, welcome to the circus. I’m the tightrope walker who occasionally breathes fire.”
She left them at the table and stalked toward the elevator, pulse hammering.
---
Back in her office, Lila found Damien waiting. He was dressed in casual black, dark stubble dusting his jaw, and his eyes were rimmed with fatigue.
“Did you meet the ethics guy?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he tossed a manila folder onto her desk. “They’re scrubbing the Helix AI. Rewriting its memory. Everything you and I did—erased from the records.”
Lila flipped open the folder. Screenshots, logs, message threads. Deleted data. “They’re covering their tracks.”
Damien nodded grimly. “And Crane’s here to make sure it’s ‘legally defensible.’”
“You said we had time,” Lila snapped. “You said they were scattered.”
“They were. Until Everett’s backup contingency kicked in.”
She felt her stomach drop. “You mean Everett expected to lose?”
“Everett plans for extinction-level events. This is all pre-written.”
Lila stared at him. “And what’s the endgame?”
Damien exhaled. “That’s what we need to find out—before Crane decides the ethical thing is to shut you down.”
------
The boardroom was unusually quiet. For once, the constant hum of tension between shareholders, VPs, and department heads had been replaced by something more potent: anticipation.
Lila sat at the far end of the polished glass table, flanked by Camille and Julian. Her hands were steady, her back straight, but her mind raced. Across from her sat Damien, unreadable as ever, his jaw set with the kind of quiet intensity that made people think twice about disagreeing with him.
Today wasn’t just about Helix anymore. Today was about the fallout.
“Let’s get started,” Camille said, snapping open her tablet. “We’ve managed to scrub ninety percent of the servers. What remains is encrypted or rerouted to dead-end terminals.”
“Legal's breathing down our necks,” Julian added. “But we’ve bought ourselves some time. Between the media frenzy and Everett’s exposure, most people aren’t sure who’s in charge anymore.”
“That’s because no one is,” Lila said flatly.
The statement hung heavy in the air.
“I suggest we change that,” Damien said finally. He looked around the table. “We’ve torn down the old order. Now it’s time to decide what we’re building in its place.”
Before anyone could respond, the door creaked open.
In walked an unfamiliar woman—tall, sharp-cheeked, with a quiet confidence that suggested she didn’t need an invitation. She was dressed in muted navy, her ID badge clipped upside-down as if daring someone to challenge her presence.
“I’m Agent Maren Collins,” she announced. “U.S. Cyber Intelligence Division. I believe you’ve been expecting me.”
------
A tense silence followed Agent Collins’ announcement. Camille was the first to recover.
“I don’t recall scheduling a meeting with the government,” she said, voice calm but razor-edged.
Agent Collins offered a small, knowing smile. “You didn’t. But when an experimental AI operation collapses and implicates global financial systems, our curiosity gets piqued.”
Lila’s stomach tightened. “How much do you know?”
Collins walked slowly toward the table, dropping a folder in front of Damien. “Enough. We’ve been monitoring Helix for a while. We weren’t aware how deep the rabbit hole went—until now.”
Damien flipped open the folder. Satellite images. Internal schematics. Photos of Everett. One of them showed Lila in the Helix Core, override key in hand. Chillingly precise.
“Are we being charged with something?” Julian asked, eyes narrowing.
Collins shook her head. “Not yet. Officially, Helix is under federal review. Unofficially, you’re all sitting on a gold mine of technological assets. What you’ve built—what you’ve destroyed—matters. Especially in the wrong hands.”
Camille leaned forward. “So this is about control.”
“It always is,” Collins replied. “My division wants to make you an offer. Immunity, protection, and resources… in exchange for partnership.”
“Partnership?” Lila repeated.
“Yes. We don’t want Helix to vanish—we want it reborn, under a framework we can help regulate. Oversight, ethics, boundaries.”
“Bureaucracy,” Camille muttered.
“Accountability,” Collins corrected.
Damien didn’t speak. He stared at the photos, jaw tense.
Collins looked at him. “You’re the key here, Mr. Blackwood. Without you, the AI systems die on the vine.”
“I’m fine with that,” Damien said.
“But are you fine letting someone else try to replicate it worse, faster, and without the moral crisis?”
That landed hard.
Lila saw the shift in his eyes—guilt giving way to fear, fear giving way to reluctant responsibility.
He met her gaze. “What do you think?”
Lila stood slowly. “I think we’ve seen what happens when power grows without conscience. If we go forward… we do it on our terms.”
Collins tilted her head. “Define your terms.”
“Transparency,” Lila said. “User consent. Data boundaries. No manipulation. No experiments. No gods in lab coats.”
Collins didn’t blink. “You’re asking for a revolution.”
“No,” Lila said. “I’m demanding one.”
---
Later that evening, Lila stood on the roof alone, the city stretching out below her like a broken motherboard. The skyline blinked with false promises—ads, signals, satellites—all powered by systems like the one they’d just dismantled.
Damien joined her quietly.
“I remember when I first imagined Helix,” he said. “I wanted to build something that made people feel understood. Seen.”
“You did that,” Lila said. “Then you pushed it too far.”
“I wanted the perfect connection. A human algorithm for love.”
Lila smiled, just barely. “You built a puzzle no one was supposed to solve. But I did.”
He looked at her, closer now.
“I don’t know what comes next,” he admitted.
“I do,” she said. “We make something better. Together. Or we walk away forever.”
Damien studied her, the tension in his shoulders slowly easing.
“I’d rather build it with you,” he said.
She didn’t smile, but her voice was soft. “Then let’s start by not screwing it up this time.”
---
---
The next morning brought no relief. Instead, it brought a string of encrypted messages on Lila’s burner phone.
Damien walked into the room, freshly showered but carrying tension like a second skin. “You’ve seen the updates.”
“Yeah,” she replied. “So much for ending it.”
He sat beside her. “We didn’t end it. We started something bigger.”
“You sound almost optimistic.”
“I’m not,” Damien said. “But I’ve learned something. When you shine a light into a tunnel, you’d better be ready to walk through it.”
She glanced sideways at him. “Is that what we’re doing?”
He met her gaze. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
She hadn’t. But that didn’t make the next steps any easier.
---
Their meeting that day took place in a hacker-owned co-op buried beneath an abandoned art gallery. A digital fortress camouflaged with spray paint and static, where anti-surveillance tech buzzed faintly in the walls.
Camille set up the situation table—six screens, a digital whiteboard, and folders of data tagged with red ribbons.
“We’ve confirmed five Helix-adjacent sites,” she said. “One in Brazil. One in Seoul. Two in Europe. One in Nevada. Each operating independently, but with similar tech infrastructure. Some have been running longer than Helix itself.”
Julian ran a hand through his hair. “So we didn’t just nuke a lab—we exposed an entire ecosystem.”
Eli added, “And now that the ecosystem knows it’s being watched, it’s adapting.”
“Retreating?” Lila asked.
“Or going underground,” Camille said. “There’s chatter about a fallback protocol—something called Project Whisper.”
Damien stood. “We trace it. We dismantle it. Same strategy.”
Julian frowned. “It’s not that simple. These labs weren’t just science experiments. They were weapons programs disguised as human development. Governments, corporations, even defense contractors—they’ve got fingerprints all over this.”
“So we expose the fingerprints too,” Lila said. “We follow the data. We drag it all into the light.”
Camille offered her a rare smile. “You’re starting to sound like a whistleblower.”
“I’m starting to sound like someone who’s had enough.”
---
Later that night, Lila and Damien stood on the roof again. The city below was alive, indifferent to their war.
Damien leaned on the railing. “You’ve changed.”
She arched an eyebrow. “For the better?”
“For the stronger.”
There was a quiet between them. Not awkward. Just heavy with everything unsaid.
“You really think we can finish what we started?” she asked.
“I think we have no choice.”
She nodded. “Good. Because I’m not backing out.”
“Neither am I.”
And for the first time in weeks, there was no bitterness between them. Just resolve.
---
Three days later, the plan took shape.
Camille would infiltrate the European data clusters—specifically one rumored to be in Zurich. Julian, with his media finesse, would begin seeding rumors through fringe tech forums and backdoor journalism contacts.
Eli would monitor chatter across the dark web. Disinformation had already begun to spread—attempts to paint Lila and the team as rogue terrorists or delusional ex-employees. It was textbook damage control, and Eli knew how to counter it.
Damien and Lila would take Nevada.
Why Nevada?
Because the whispers said Project Whisper had a heartbeat there.
---
Their arrival in Nevada was quiet. A nondescript rental, dusty roads, a cheap roadside motel with flickering neon. Lila was reminded of spy movies—except in those, the spies had clear missions.
This felt more like a dare from the universe.
They spent the first day mapping local infrastructure. The suspected site was located miles from any urban center, tucked inside a military-graded security compound labeled as an “agricultural research initiative.” Which was laughable.
At night, Damien spread blueprints across the motel bed. “There’s a maintenance entry here. Underground tunnel system. Not guarded like the main gate. We could get in without detection.”
“And get out?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
They both knew the rules had changed. This wasn’t sabotage anymore. This was infiltration. Possibly war.
“Just promise me,” she said. “If things go wrong—”
“They won’t.”
“Damien.”
He took her hand. “I promise.”
---
They entered the compound two nights later, dressed as power grid technicians. Lila’s fake ID scanned clean. Damien rerouted thermal sensors with a device Camille built from old smartwatches and hacked drones.
Inside, they found rows of empty labs. Sterile. White. Too clean. As if the place had been evacuated.
And then… a sound.
Footsteps. Not hurried. Measured.
Lila gripped Damien’s arm.
A man in a gray suit emerged from the shadows.
“You’re late,” he said.
Damien stepped forward. “Who are you?”
The man smiled. “I’m the one who’s been waiting for you.”
Lila didn’t recognize him. But his voice was familiar.
“Do you know me?” she asked.
He smiled wider. “Not yet. But I know your algorithm.”
Chills raced down her spine.
This wasn’t a trap.
This was a test.
And they’d just walked into it.
------
The morning sun streamed through the blinds, golden and blameless—moking the chaos that had settled inside Lila. She sat alone at the window of her apartment, half a cup of coffee gone cold in her hands, as silence screamed around her. The rooftop confrontation with Damien echoed on loop in her head, every word a cut, every pause a scar.
He had meant it—his remorse, his vulnerability—but it wasn’t enough. Not after everything. Not when trust was a currency that Helix had already stolen from her.
The Helix Core was down. The virus had done its job. The building had gone into lockdown, and while their core mission succeeded, the blowback was just beginning.
News outlets were catching on. Investigations were underway. But Helix had powerful backers—corporations, political figures, secret stakeholders whose influence bled into every digital corner of the world.
Lila hadn’t just pulled a trigger. She’d started a war.
Her burner phone buzzed. Camille.
> Camille: “Turn on the news. Now.”
Lila didn’t ask questions. She grabbed the remote, flipped through channels until she landed on a familiar face—Senator Alcott. The same man who’d once praised Helix as a “pinnacle of ethical innovation.” Now he was in front of a podium, sweating beneath the lights, dodging questions with politician-level elegance.
“…no confirmed reports regarding internal experiments on citizens. If these allegations prove to have substance, rest assured, my office will demand full accountability.”
Lila exhaled, sharp and bitter.
Camille called directly. “He’s distancing himself already. Classic damage control.”
“Which means they’re scared,” Lila said.
Camille’s voice lowered. “Or preparing a counterstrike.”
---
At the hideout—Julian’s loft, repurposed into mission control—maps, digital models, and intercepted emails covered the walls like war paint. The team was already mid-discussion when Lila arrived.
“Helix isn’t going down without backup,” Julian said, gesturing at a projected timeline. “They’ve activated something called Project Ceres. Classified. Off-grid. Funded through shell companies. My guess? It's either their failsafe… or something worse.”
“Survivor protocol,” Eli muttered. “If Core data is compromised, they pivot to secondary infrastructure.”
“Meaning?” Lila asked.
“Meaning they start again. Clean slate. New servers. New subjects.”
“No,” she said flatly. “We don’t let them start again.”
Damien, who had been silent in the corner, finally spoke. “There’s a facility. Not in the city. Offsite. One of the original testing grounds. It’s where they stored early prototypes—AI models, social response algorithms, early versions of the Helix emotional index.”
Camille stiffened. “You knew about this?”
“I helped build it,” he admitted.
Lila’s stomach twisted. “Then you’re leading us there.”
---
They drove through the night, a black SUV winding through misty forest roads that hadn’t seen traffic in years. The destination: a decommissioned tech compound in the foothills north of the city. The name on the gate was innocuous: Greenstone Labs. But Lila knew better. It was Helix in another mask.
Inside, the place reeked of cold metal and abandoned promises. Dust clung to wires like cobwebs, and dim emergency lighting flickered with every step.
“This place feels like it’s waiting for something,” Julian muttered.
“It is,” Damien replied. “Us.”
They found the mainframe room by following the server hum. Screens glowed faintly, displaying lines of dormant code. Camille approached one terminal and began typing.
“This system isn’t dead,” she whispered. “It’s sleeping.”
Eli frowned. “Then wake it.”
“No,” Lila said. “Not until we know what’s in it.”
Camille nodded, initiating a controlled scan. Data unfurled like a digital scroll—archives of simulations, personality matrices, emotion modeling templates.
Lila’s face paled.
“These are people,” she said.
“They’re models,” Damien corrected softly.
“They were based on people,” she snapped. “Real names. Real behavioral data. This isn’t just coding. It’s cloning emotions.”
Camille’s fingers paused over the keyboard. “Lila, there’s something else. A subfile marked ‘Phoenix Loop.’ Encrypted with biometric access.”
“Yours?” Julian asked Damien.
Damien checked the screen. “Not mine. Everett’s.”
The name felt like a curse.
Julian looked around. “You think he survived the Core purge?”
Lila didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.
She knew the truth: Everett wasn’t gone. He had always planned for this.
---
Outside the facility, a storm brewed. Not weather—something colder. Strategic. A security team.
Motion alerts pinged on Camille’s hacked surveillance monitor. Black vans. Tactical gear. Men with no insignia but lethal coordination.
“They found us,” Eli said grimly.
“No,” Damien corrected. “He sent them.”
---
They moved fast.
Camille transferred as much data as she could onto a secure drive. Julian rigged a counter-surveillance loop. Eli found a back exit near the generator tunnels. Lila followed Damien to the biometric station.
“If this loop is what I think it is,” he said, “it’s Everett’s insurance. Probably a full network reboot. It would wipe what we’ve done and restore everything.”
Lila placed her hand over the reader.
The screen blinked.
ACCESS GRANTED: SUBJECT 19.
She blinked. “What—?”
Damien’s eyes widened. “It wasn’t Everett’s access code. It was yours.”
“But why would—?”
Before she could finish, the room rumbled.
“They’re breaching the entrance!” Julian yelled from the hall.
Damien made a choice. Fast. “We destroy it. The whole loop.”
Lila nodded. “Set it to burn.”
Camille passed them a portable detonator. “Remote trigger. Ten-minute fuse. Let’s go.”
They sprinted for the exit, gunfire echoing through the hallways behind them. By the time they reached the forest line, Lila looked back one last time.
“Goodbye, Phoenix.”
The explosion tore through the lab like a dying scream. The fire rose high—red, gold, fierce.
But Lila didn’t flinch.
She was done running.
The next morning brought no relief. Instead, it brought a string of encrypted messages on Lila’s burner phone—each more urgent than the last.
Julian:
Everett’s fallout is wider than we thought. The board is scrambling. Media has the scent.
Camille:
Corporate intel suggests Helix wasn’t the only facility. There are sister labs—globally.
Eli:
Get ready. We’re not just cleaning up. We’re hunting.
Lila stared at the screen, her heart thudding louder with every vibration. What they did to Helix was monumental, yes. But it had only shaken the top of the tower. The roots went deeper.
Damien walked into the room, freshly showered but carrying tension like a second skin. “You’ve seen the updates.”
“Yeah,” she replied. “So much for ending it.”
He sat beside her. “We didn’t end it. We started something bigger.”
“You sound almost optimistic.”
“I’m not,” Damien said. “But I’ve learned something. When you shine a light into a tunnel, you’d better be ready to walk through it.”
She glanced sideways at him. “Is that what we’re doing?”
He met her gaze. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
She hadn’t. But that didn’t make the next steps any easier.
---
Their meeting that day took place in a hacker-owned co-op buried beneath an abandoned art gallery. A digital fortress camouflaged with spray paint and static, where anti-surveillance tech buzzed faintly in the walls.
Camille set up the situation table—six screens, a digital whiteboard, and folders of data tagged with red ribbons.
“We’ve confirmed five Helix-adjacent sites,” she said. “One in Brazil. One in Seoul. Two in Europe. One in Nevada. Each operating independently, but with similar tech infrastructure. Some have been running longer than Helix itself.”
Julian ran a hand through his hair. “So we didn’t just nuke a lab—we exposed an entire ecosystem.”
Eli added, “And now that the ecosystem knows it’s being watched, it’s adapting.”
“Retreating?” Lila asked.
“Or going underground,” Camille said. “There’s chatter about a fallback protocol—something called Project Whisper.”
Damien stood. “We trace it. We dismantle it. Same strategy.”
Julian frowned. “It’s not that simple. These labs weren’t just science experiments. They were weapons programs disguised as human development. Governments, corporations, even defense contractors—they’ve got fingerprints all over this.”
“So we expose the fingerprints too,” Lila said. “We follow the data. We drag it all into the light.”
Camille offered her a rare smile. “You’re starting to sound like a whistleblower.”
“I’m starting to sound like someone who’s had enough.”
---
Later that night, Lila and Damien stood on the roof again. The city below was alive, indifferent to their war.
Damien leaned on the railing. “You’ve changed.”
She arched an eyebrow. “For the better?”
“For the stronger.”
There was a quiet between them. Not awkward. Just heavy with everything unsaid.
“You really think we can finish what we started?” she asked.
“I think we have no choice.”
She nodded. “Good. Because I’m not backing out.”
“Neither am I.”
And for the first time in weeks, there was no bitterness between them. Just resolve.
---
Three days later, the plan took shape.
Camille would infiltrate the European data clusters—specifically one rumored to be in Zurich. Julian, with his media finesse, would begin seeding rumors through fringe tech forums and backdoor journalism contacts.
Eli would monitor chatter across the dark web. Disinformation had already begun to spread—attempts to paint Lila and the team as rogue terrorists or delusional ex-employees. It was textbook damage control, and Eli knew how to counter it.
Damien and Lila would take Nevada.
Why Nevada?
Because the whispers said Project Whisper had a heartbeat there.
---
Their arrival in Nevada was quiet. A nondescript rental, dusty roads, a cheap roadside motel with flickering neon. Lila was reminded of spy movies—except in those, the spies had clear missions.
This felt more like a dare from the universe.
They spent the first day mapping local infrastructure. The suspected site was located miles from any urban center, tucked inside a military-graded security compound labeled as an “agricultural research initiative.” Which was laughable.
At night, Damien spread blueprints across the motel bed. “There’s a maintenance entry here. Underground tunnel system. Not guarded like the main gate. We could get in without detection.”
“And get out?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
They both knew the rules had changed. This wasn’t sabotage anymore. This was infiltration. Possibly war.
“Just promise me,” she said. “If things go wrong—”
“They won’t.”
“Damien.”
He took her hand. “I promise.”
---
They entered the compound two nights later, dressed as power grid technicians. Lila’s fake ID scanned clean. Damien rerouted thermal sensors with a device Camille built from old smartwatches and hacked drones.
Inside, they found rows of empty labs. Sterile. White. Too clean. As if the place had been evacuated.
And then… a sound.
Footsteps. Not hurried. Measured.
Lila gripped Damien’s arm.
A man in a gray suit emerged from the shadows.
“You’re late,” he said.
Damien stepped forward. “Who are you?”
The man smiled. “I’m the one who’s been waiting for you.”
Lila didn’t recognize him. But his voice was familiar.
“Do you know me?” she asked.
He smiled wider. “Not yet. But I know your algorithm.”
Chills raced down her spine.
This wasn’t a trap.
This was a test.
And they’d just walked into it.
---
The SUV hurtled down the dirt road, tires kicking up gravel and pine needles. Inside, the team was dead silent. The facility now a smoking crater behind them, they had only minutes before aerial surveillance would pick up the wreckage.
Lila sat in the back seat, hand still clenched around the detonator, the memory of the firestorm etched behind her eyes. Her thumb ached from the pressure she’d used to press the trigger—like some part of her had tried to resist it, had feared what it meant to become the one who ends things.
She was supposed to be the whistleblower.
Not the executioner.
Damien sat beside her, fingers wrapped tightly around his phone, monitoring scanner traffic. “No chatter yet,” he murmured. “But it’s coming.”
Camille, who was riding shotgun, pulled out the data drive she'd managed to salvage. “One terabyte of horror. Thousands of simulations. Some were modeled after children.”
Eli spoke up from the third row, voice low. “They didn’t just study emotions. They tried to control them. Rewrite human responses. Manufacture loyalty. It’s brainwashing with a digital face.”
Julian, driving with both hands clamped on the wheel, swerved slightly to avoid a fallen branch. “Helix wasn’t just building a better algorithm. They were building a population they could program.”
Lila swallowed hard. “And Everett was at the heart of it all.”
Damien’s silence was answer enough.
---
They returned to the city just before dawn. The skyline loomed ahead—cool steel and deceptive serenity. But beneath that gleam, systems were in motion. Laws were bending. Companies were closing ranks. And the world still believed Helix was just a tech unicorn, not a monster in silicon skin.
At Camille’s apartment, which now doubled as their new base, they gathered around her table. Coffee brewed in the background as screens lit up the darkened room.
Lila reviewed a list Camille had compiled.
“What’s this?” she asked.
Camille pointed. “Everyone connected to Project Phoenix. Engineers, psychologists, investors. Some are dead. Some disappeared.”
Lila scanned the names. Her eyes paused on one.
Dr. Evelyn Ross.
She pointed. “I know her. She was the lead behavioral scientist when I interned at Helix.”
Camille nodded. “She’s alive. Off-grid, though. Last known location was a private mental wellness retreat in Oregon. She left Helix two years ago under NDA.”
“Why would they let her leave?”
Damien looked grim. “Because she didn’t leave empty-handed.”
Lila turned toward him. “What did she take?”
“A file. An early subject case study. The first successful prototype—Subject 0. Not modeled. Not simulated. Created.”
The word sat like ice in her chest. “You mean born?”
“No. Coded,” Damien replied. “But indistinguishable from a human. Subject 0 was emotional AI—self-aware, empathetic, adaptable. And dangerous.”
“And they let her walk away with that data?” Camille asked.
“She encrypted it. Hidden in biometric code. Only she could open it.”
Julian leaned back. “Then we find her.”
---
The team split up.
Julian and Camille stayed behind to trace Helix’s financial backers. Eli moved to secure another safehouse. Lila and Damien booked a private flight under aliases, heading straight to the Oregon wilderness.
By noon, they were standing at the edge of a remote campus called Vine Hollow Retreat—all glass lodges, walking paths, and tech-weary millionaires searching for mindfulness.
“Welcome,” the receptionist said with an unnervingly wide smile. “Do you have an appointment?”
“We’re here for Dr. Evelyn Ross,” Lila said.
The receptionist blinked. “Dr. Ross hasn’t seen visitors in… a very long time.”
Lila’s expression didn’t shift. “She’ll see me.”
---
Dr. Ross lived in a cabin nestled behind a thicket of redwoods, overlooking a fog-draped lake. She opened the door herself—silver-haired, stooped but sharp-eyed. She recognized Lila instantly.
“You were the intern who asked too many questions.”
“And you were the scientist who had all the answers,” Lila replied.
Ross gestured them inside. “If you're here, Helix must be bleeding.”
Inside, the cabin was part library,
- Writer
