The dawn light filtering through Kai's window wasn't real. Just another system protocol cycling through its routine, casting artificial illumination across his cramped housing unit. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, muscles aching with the peculiar phantom pain that shouldn't exist in a digital body.

  His first week as a double agent had left him exhausted in ways the system documentation probably warned against but nobody bothered to read.

  A notification pulsed gently at the edge of his vision.

  [SYSTEM STATUS: KAI REEVES]

  Energy: 73% (Reduced - Sleep Cycle Interrupted)

  Contract Status: Active (MidCorp Financial)

  Current Balance: 112 Credits

  Active Affiliations: Nova Express (Official), Undercut Network (Unofficial)

  SKILL DEVELOPMENT:

  ? Basic Mobility (AT-Drive): D+

  ? Balance Control: C-

  ? Spatial Awareness: C

  ? Route Memorization: C+

  ? Flux Line Recognition: F (Undeveloped)

  WARNING: Unauthorized equipment detected during last system scan. User advisory issued.

  He dismissed the notification with a flick of his fingers. The system knew about his skates—of course it did—but apparently didn't care enough to do anything beyond issuing warnings.

  Typical corporate efficiency: monitor everything, act only when profit margins were threatened.

  He swung his legs over the edge of the sleep pod and stretched. His double life was taking shape like a digital sculpture—rough-hewn but gradually revealing its form. Days spent running packages for Nova Express, building a flawless cover identity. Nights spent on wheels, carving paths through the neon sprawl on Cipher's increasingly dangerous errands.

  The arrangement was perfect, if you ignored the sleep deprivation and constant paranoia.

  He reached under his bed and pulled out the battered skates Cipher had let him take home after the third successful delivery. They weren't pretty—the black boots scuffed from years of use, the power cores glowing with the dull amber of outdated technology. But they were his, at least until he paid off his debt to Cipher.

  He ran his fingers along the frames, feeling the microscopic imperfections that told stories of previous owners. The neural interface pads were worn smooth from countless connections to other minds before his. There was something oddly intimate about that thought—these skates remembered other users, carried echoes of their movements.

  His Nova Express shift started in forty minutes. Time to put on his runner face again.

  "Package to Residential Tier 3, Unit 857," the dispatcher said, sliding a small box across the counter. "Standard rate, fifteen credits."

  He nodded, tucking the package into his jacket. "Estimated delivery time?"

  "Twenty-two minutes according to system calculations." The dispatcher barely looked at him, already turning to the next runner. "Next!"

  Outside, he checked the navigation markers.

  Residential Tier 3 was middle-income housing—better than his own spartan cell but nothing extravagant. The route would take him through Central Transit and up several levels, all heavily monitored by corporate security.

  Perfect place to practice observing patrol patterns.

  He set out at his usual pace, but today his awareness had sharpened. After a week on skates, even his walking felt different—more balanced, more attuned to momentum and flow. He found himself automatically analyzing environment features: that maintenance ladder could serve as a shortcut; those decorative ledges formed a perfect grinding rail; the security camera above the transit hub had a three-second blind spot during its rotation cycle.

  At Central Transit, he paused to observe a corporate security team conducting routine scans. Their movements were precise and predictable—patrol routes optimized by algorithms rather than human intuition. Exactly the kind of patterns Cipher had taught him to exploit during his night runs.

  "Admiring the scenery?" a voice asked beside him.

  He turned to find Marlow, the maintenance worker he'd met his first week in the system.

  "Just catching my breath," Kai said, casual as could be.

  Marlow's eyes narrowed slightly. "Funny place to rest. Most people avoid security checkpoints unless they're passing through."

  "I'm still learning the grid," Kai said, gesturing vaguely at the sprawling transit center. "Trying to memorize the most efficient routes."

  "Uh-huh." Marlow didn't sound convinced. "You look different, kid. Got that look in your eye."

  "What look?"

  "The one people get when they start seeing the seams in this place." Marlow gestured subtly toward a nearby pillar. "Like noticing how that structural support doesn't actually connect to anything load-bearing. Or how the gravity simulation drops by point-three percent during peak server loads."

  Kai felt a flicker of alarm. "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Sure you don't." Marlow's expression remained neutral, but his eyes had a knowing glint. "Just remember—the system records everything. Even things it pretends not to notice."

  Before Kai could respond, Marlow melted into the crowd, leaving him with an uneasy feeling crawling up his spine.

  He shook it off and continued his delivery route, ascending to Residential Tier 3 via a public transport platform that cost him two precious credits. The ride gave him time to think, to process Marlow's cryptic warning.

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  The system records everything. Even if it maintained the illusion of not watching.

  The delivery itself was unremarkable—a middle-aged avatar accepted the package with the minimum required pleasantries before closing the door in Kai's face. Standard transaction complete, fifteen credits transferred to his account.

  But as he made his way back to ground level, he found himself seeing Server Nova differently. The architecture wasn't just environment design; it was strategic. Camera placements, patrol routes, even the flow of foot traffic—all carefully engineered to funnel users along predetermined paths.

  And he was learning to move between those paths, to find the gaps in the system's attention.

  By the end of his Nova Express shift, he had completed four deliveries, earning sixty credits and a wealth of observations about security patterns across different sectors. Information that would prove far more valuable than the meager payment when night fell.

  The Neon District transformed after dark, shedding its daytime pretense of respectability. Holographic advertisements grew more explicit, promising digital pleasures that skirted system guidelines. Users with heavily modified avatars emerged from hidden access points, their appearances too extreme for corporate sectors.

  Kai made his way to Undercut through back alleys, the skates secured in a nondescript bag slung over his shoulder. He'd changed into darker clothing, muted colors that wouldn't stand out against the neon backdrop but wouldn't immediately read as suspicious either. Balance in all things—Cipher's first lesson.

  The doorkeeper recognized him with a nod, stepping aside to let him pass through the dimensional anomaly that served as Undercut's entryway. Inside, the club was pulsing with its usual rhythm—skaters performing on ramps, drinks flowing at the bar, modification work happening in the back.

  Proxy spotted him first, her jacket today displaying what looked like living circuitry that pulsed in time with the bass. "Runner boy! Right on time. Cipher's waiting in the back."

  She led him through the crowd to Cipher's workshop, where the older user was hunched over a pair of skates, delicate tools manipulating components too small for Kai to identify.

  "Our newest courier arrives," Cipher said without looking up. "How's the double life treating you?"

  "Like I'm constantly one wrong move from a system reset," Kai replied, setting his bag down. "But I'm managing."

  That earned him a rare smile from Cipher. "Good answer. Healthy paranoia keeps your avatar intact." He finally looked up from his work. "Tonight's job is a bit more complex than your previous runs. Higher risk, higher reward."

  "I'm ready," Kai said, perhaps too quickly.

  Cipher and Proxy exchanged a look that Kai was beginning to recognize—equal parts amusement and concern.

  "Let's see your progress first," Cipher said, gesturing to an open area of the workshop. "Show me what you've learned this week."

  Kai removed his skates from the bag and put them on with practiced efficiency, the neural interface connecting with a familiar tingle at the base of his skull. He stood, finding his balance immediately, and began moving through the space.

  The difference from his first attempts was striking. Where once he'd wobbled and fought against the skates' augmentation systems, now his movements flowed with growing confidence. He executed a series of turns, accelerations, and controlled stops.

  "Looking smoother," Proxy commented, leaning against a workbench. "Neural sync rate is definitely improving. Up about six percent since you started."

  Cipher circled him with a critical eye. "Your weight distribution is still off on sharp turns. And you're not fully utilizing the thrust vectoring system for momentum conservation." He pointed to the power cores. "Notice how they dim during directional changes? You're bleeding energy."

  Kai nodded, absorbing the critique. "I'm still getting used to thinking in terms of energy flow rather than physical movement."

  "Natural for a physical-world courier," Cipher acknowledged. "But in here, energy efficiency is everything. Especially for tonight's run."

  He walked to a secure cabinet and unlocked it with a gesture that left traces of code in the air—some kind of encrypted access protocol. From inside, he retrieved a small black cube that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

  "This," Cipher said, holding the cube between thumb and forefinger, "is specialized encryption architecture. Black-market AI development tool. Very illegal, very valuable."

  Kai eyed the cube warily. "Who's it going to?"

  "Research collective operating in the Bitrot District. They maintain a lab in what used to be a corporate data center before the sector was abandoned during the last system update," Cipher explained. "The delivery point is in a restricted access tunnel near the old core processors."

  Proxy brought up a map on a nearby display, tracing a route with her finger. "You'll need to cross three security checkpoints, each with different scan protocols. The package itself is shielded against basic detection, but extended proximity to high-level scanners will trigger alerts."

  "So I need to be fast," Kai said, studying the route.

  "Very," Cipher confirmed. "But more importantly, you need to be invisible. This isn't about outrunning security—it's about never being seen in the first place."

  Proxy tapped a section of the map. "You'll want to ride the maintenance subgrids here. They generate interference that helps mask unauthorized transit."

  "And whatever you do," Cipher added, "avoid the Slipstreams' territory. They've been particularly territorial lately, especially with new skaters."

  Kai had heard about the Slipstreams during his week of deliveries—an elite courier crew with corporate sponsorship and a reputation for aggressive enforcement of their claimed routes. The kind of skaters who didn't just deliver data but who occasionally delivered beatings to those who crossed them.

  "If the system tracks everything, how do we get away with any of this?" he asked, gesturing to the illegal cube.

  Cipher's mouth twisted into something between a smile and a grimace. "Important distinction, kid. The system records everything—that's basic architecture. But the SysAdmins only monitor what their algorithms flag as relevant or profitable."

  "The corps don't see everything the system sees?"

  "Exactly. Think of it like this: the system is the ocean—it contains everything. But the SysAdmins only have fishing nets designed to catch specific types of fish. Stay small enough, move quick enough, or swim in the dark zones, and you slip right through."

  Proxy leaned in. "Plus, different corps control different sectors. SysAdmin Alpha might not share their surveillance with SysAdmin Beta, especially if they're competitors. We exploit the gaps between corporate territories."

  "The real danger," Cipher added, "is when you trigger multiple flags and a human analyst gets assigned to review your movements. Once they start looking specifically for you..." He drew a finger across his throat.

  Kai nodded, filing this crucial information away. "Payment?" he asked, suddenly aware of the risk he was about to undertake.

  "One hundred credits on delivery, plus another fifty toward your skate debt," Cipher said. "And something perhaps more valuable—the contact will have information about hidden flux lines in Central. Routes that could cut your delivery times in half."

  The cube disappeared into a specialized compartment built into Kai's right skate—another of Cipher's modifications that wasn't in the original specs. The package locked into place with a soft click, completely concealed.

  "System shouldn't detect it unless you're subjected to a deep scan," Proxy assured him. "Just don't give them reason to look too closely."

  Kai nodded, running through mental preparations. "Delivery timeline?"

  "You have ninety minutes," Cipher said. "After that, the encryption begins to degrade."

  Ninety minutes to cross half of Server Nova's lower grid, avoid security, stay clear of rival couriers, and find an abandoned data center he'd never even seen before.

  Just another night in his new double life.