The fall through the digital sky of London felt like a slow-motion descent into a kaleidoscope of broken code. As Matteo plummeted, the skyscrapers of the City began to fray at the edges, dissolving into long, vertical lines of binary. The "rainforest" at the top of the Shard peeled away like old wallpaper, revealing the cold, pulsating geometry of the Vathek spire beneath the illusion.
Matteo forced his eyes open, fighting the crushing weight of the substrate. The dream was thick, a honey-like layer of false memories designed to keep him compliant, but the "Unknown" message had acted like a splinter in his consciousness.
Wake up, he commanded himself. It’s an audit of the soul. Deny the entry.
He wasn't falling through London air; he was suspended in the blue fluid of the cylinder, mil
