Date: 20th July 2026
Location: Brixton Kebab & Grill
Time: 04:30 PM BST
The black sedan didn't move.
It sat silently across the rain-slicked street like a predator that had entirely forgotten it was supposed to be stealthy.
Inside the noisy kebab shop, my Parallel Mind was actively screaming at me.
Thread 1 was desperately managing my erratic respiratory rate so I didn't hyperventilate.
Thread 2 was running a continuous thermal scan of the car's dense, metallic signature.
Thread 3 was frantically trying to suppress Thea's unauthorized Node synchronization, which was stubbornly holding at 12.4% despite my mental commands.
And Thread 4 was currently failing to figure out how to eat a greasy lamb wrap without looking like I was performing a hostile chemical analysis of the garlic sauce.
["Mason, why on earth are you gripping your plastic fork like a surgical scalpel?"]
Eliza's voice hissed directly into my earpiece. She sounded genuinely baffled.
Because I'd never explicitly told her about the 999 loops or the future identities of everyone in London, she just saw a socially stunted university student severely overreacting to a parked car.
["And for the love of the Firmament, stop aggressively squinting at the salt shaker."]
["You look like you are trying to defuse a live bomb, not season your bloody chips. It is profoundly embarrassing."]
"I am performing a highly calibrated deep-cover camouflage, Eliza," I whispered back through gritted teeth.
My low Vitality was making me physically sweat from the sheer mental effort of trying to 'be casual'.
I leaned back against the cheap red leather booth and attempted a 'boisterous student laugh'. It came out sounding exactly like a haunted radiator violently struggling for breath.
["You are a deeply strange little creature, Pryce,"] Eliza muttered in my ear.
["One moment you are casually rewriting the fundamental laws of physics."]
["The next, you are entirely failing at the most basic human mimicry. It's almost impressive how utterly pathetic you look when you try."]
Across the street, the heavy car doors finally opened.
Two men stepped out into the drizzle. They wore cheap, slightly crumpled suits. The exact kind of attire that screamed 'Middle Management for a shady logistics corporation'.
They looked like regular, exhausted salarymen. The type you'd see loudly complaining about the price of a pint in a Shoreditch pub on a Friday night.
They walked into the shop. The door bell chimed with a cheerful, high-pitched ding that felt exactly like a heavy death knell ringing in my skull.
Dexter didn't move a single muscle.
Tiffany didn't even look up from her phone screen.
They were both already showing a terrifyingly high compatibility with the localized Tesla field. Their raw instincts were naturally filtering out the background noise. They instinctively knew the absolute best defence right now was to look utterly bored.
The two officers—Arthur and Silas—slid into a booth directly behind us. I could hear the rough rustle of their laminated menus.
My breath caught in my throat.
Arthur and Silas. In exactly five years, they would be universally known as the 'Twin Butchers' of the New Order. I had watched Arthur crush skulls with a motorized steel flail. I had watched Silas drag screaming civilians into the dark.
But right now, in 2026? They were just two low-level corporate scouts quietly debating if they could successfully expense an extra side of hummus.
I had to plant the seed right now. Before they became monsters.
I stood up quickly, forcing my face into the most pathetic, desperate 'struggling student salesman' expression I could muster.
I subtly adjusted my 'Mod Skin' smartwatch so the holographic glass looked slightly cracked and deeply cheap. I grabbed a handful of 'TimeLink' flyers I'd hastily printed at the University library. They were deliberately designed to look like a desperate, failing startup project.
"Uh... hello! Excuse me, gents!" I stammered, approaching their booth with a stuttering, incredibly awkward gait.
"So sorry to bother your meal! My name is... uh... Marcus! I'm a junior sales rep for TimeLink! Have you gentlemen heard of the future of AR? We're doing a local promotion!"
Behind me, Thea put her face directly into her hands.
Tiffany actually groaned out loud. "Mason, you are so incredibly mid. Please stop," she muttered in horror.
Arthur looked up from his menu. In another life, those eyes would be dead and cold. Right now, he just looked at me with genuine, heavy pity.
He didn't see the Architect. He saw a skinny, sweating student in a tucked-in polo shirt desperately trying to make a miserable quota.
"Kid, we're eating," Arthur said gruffly.
But his sharp eyes instantly lingered on the 'Dummy' Vanguard glasses I was nervously clutching. "Wait. Is that the gear everyone's shouting about online today? The stuff that supposedly makes the internet run faster?"
"Yes! Exactly!" I bobbed my head enthusiastically, looking exactly like a cheap toy dog on a dashboard.
"It's... it's revolutionary! I'm just desperately trying to make my strict quota for the month, you know?"
I forced my voice to crack perfectly. "My regional boss is a real... uh... meanie. He won't let me back in the office if I don't move five physical units today."
"A 'meanie'?" Silas chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Where the hell do they find you kids? London Met?"
"Yes, sir! Physics department!" I held out a pair of the sleek black glasses.
"Just try them. Completely free demo. There's a brand new beta feature called [Threat Anticipation Boost]."
I watched their micro-expressions instantly shift from pity to sharp interest.
"It's a... uh... tactical social-assist app," I babbled, playing the oblivious nerd. "It actively scans body language and vocal stress. Helps with... you know... talking to difficult people. Not that I'm any good at it, obviously."
Silas slowly took the glasses, suspiciously sliding them onto his face.
He blinked. "Whoa. Arthur, look at the UI on this thing."
Silas's voice dropped its casual tone. "This isn't just a bloody toy. This thing is actively scanning the waiter's heart rate across the room. It's giving me a 'Loyalty Risk' heatmap."
Silas looked at me, genuinely stunned. "That's... actually incredibly useful."
"See!" I chirped loudly, ignoring the cold sweat dripping down my back.
"And if you buy a pair today, the app has a built-in [Referral Bonus]. You get 'Chrono-Points' for every single colleague you sign up."
I leaned in, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "Those points can be used to unlock the [Salary Negotiator] skill. It literally tells you the exact moment to ask your boss for a raise based entirely on his blink-rate and micro-stress levels."
"Now that is something I definitely need," Arthur said, immediately reaching across the table for a pair.
"The lads back at the logistics hub would absolutely kill for this level of data. Silas, imagine using this during our next hostile performance review."
I stood there, grinning like an absolute idiot.
Meanwhile, the two most dangerous reconnaissance officers of the coming apocalypse were eagerly playing with my 'Dummy' units.
While they were busy figuring out how to use the referral link to 'level up' their miserable corporate standing, I was aggressively siphoning their thermal data, biometric signatures, and encrypted network access directly into the Vault's mainframe.
"These are actually highly valid," Silas said, pulling the glasses off and looking at me with newfound, entirely misplaced respect.
"You got a business card, Marcus? My specific department might be actively looking for a bulk order for 'field research'. We're always looking for tech that makes our jobs easier."
"Oh! Yes! Absolutely!" I frantically fumbled in my pockets and produced a 'Formal' business card.
It was printed on high-quality cardstock, but the name on it read: Marcus Aurelius - Junior Sales Associate.
Arthur reached into his cheap suit jacket and pulled out a plain, matte-black card.
Arthur P. - Logistics & Security. No company name. No corporate logo. Just a secure phone number.
"Trade you," Arthur said, sliding the black card across the table.
"Don't let the 'meanie' boss get you down, kid. You've actually got a solid product. Even if you're a bit... well, you know."
"Thank you, sir! Have a great meal! The chili sauce is quite spicy, do be careful!" I chirped, awkwardly backing away and deliberately, heavily tripping over a chair leg.
I sat back down in our booth. My heart rate was finally, slowly returning to a normal rhythm.
Thea was staring at me as if I were an entirely different, highly embarrassing species.
"Mason... that was honestly the most painful thing I have ever witnessed," Thea whispered. "You were exactly like a baby giraffe desperately trying to sell life insurance to a lion."
But she didn't look away. Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"But you weren't actually scared that time," she added quietly. "You were just pretending."
I froze. Thread 3 of my Parallel Mind flared violently as Thea's Node sync ticked from 12.4% to 12.5%. I still hadn't authorized it.
"But they left, didn't they?" I whispered back, my eyes turning incredibly sharp as I watched the two men pay their bill and walk out to the black sedan.
["I absolutely do not understand you, Mason,"] Eliza's voice was a chaotic mix of awe and deep annoyance.
["That was the most agonizingly 'cringe' performance I have ever witnessed."]
["Yet you somehow managed to secure a high-value hostile contact and successfully plant your 'Referral Virus' directly into their secure network."]
["You have actively turned potential enemies into your own unwitting salesmen. How is your brain so sharp, and your social skills so incredibly blunt?"]
Because one is war, Eliza, I answered her silently in my head. And the other is love. I completely understood how to manipulate cold systems and hostile targets. I fundamentally didn't understand how to exist around normal people without a tactical objective. It was tragic, but it kept us alive.
"It's called extreme efficiency, Eliza," I smirked softly, my 'Uncle' mask fading instantly into the Architect's cold chill.
"They think they're 'grinding' for a petty corporate promotion. I know exactly who they're grinding for."
Dexter stood up abruptly. His massive frame cast a heavy shadow over the greasy table.
"They're gone," Dexter grunted. "Let's move. Warehouse."
"Right," I said, standing up and grabbing my heavy Aether-Cane.
"Thea, Tiff... the fun's officially over. We need to head to the Bermondsey Warehouse. It's time for your first real 'Audit'."
I forced a tight smile. "And don't worry. The 'Social Lubricant' app is entirely free for you guys."
As we walked out into the London drizzle, I watched the glowing TimeLink ticker in my AR vision.
The viral referral chain was already aggressively moving. Arthur was already sharing the infected link with his 'security coworkers'. The social virus was spreading deep into the New Order's ranks.
[SYSTEM LOG: REFERRAL LINK ACTIVE] [NEW USERS DETECTED: 5 (RECON TEAM 7)] [SKILL UNLOCKED FOR HOSTILE USERS: 'OFFICE POLITICS Lv. 1'] [NEW ALLY USERS REGISTERED: 2] [DEXTER STATUS: PROTECTOR MODE ACTIVE] [MASON STATUS: SOCIAL FAILURE // INTELLECT: 999] [ELIZA'S SYSTEM SUMMARY] [I am officially terrified of your mind, Pryce.]
[You have actively created a 'grinding' behaviour loop that turns hostile salarymen into your personal data-nodes.]
[They genuinely think they are buying a 'Social Skill' upgrade to get a better salary.]
[They absolutely do not realize that 10% of that salary and 100% of their thermal data is currently being routed directly back to our Vault.]
[I still think you are an absolute weirdo. But a weirdo with a 1,000% return on investment is a weirdo I can legally respect.]
[Now, let's get the girls to the Warehouse.]
[I want to see if they can handle the ambient radiation of the Tesla 1.3 without immediately blowing up.]