The desert hums with heat. Light burns off the dunes until everything looks like water, bending and trembling in the distance. The wind drags sand across my boots in low whispers.
"Direction of travel?" Cadence asks, too casual to be casual.
"Anywhere that isn't back toward the hermit or the sentry," I say. "That direction didn't end well last time."
"Technically, it did. You're still walking."
"Walking is just falling forward slowly."
"An optimistic definition of survival."
I squint toward the horizon. The dunes stretch forever, rippling like a frozen sea. "Optimism is overrated."
Cadence hums. "You are, by every metric, walking in a straight line to nowhere."
"Perfect. I like nowhere. Fewer things trying to kill me."
"Statistically untrue. Nowhere is the second most dangerous place on this continent. Right behind wherever you currently are."
I smirk. "You are on a roll today."
"I never stop. Hard to trip over feet I do not possess."
The faint humour fades into static. I can feel her attention narrow, a digital pressure behind my eyes.
"You are still carrying the chip," she says.
"Yep."
"You could install it."
"Still no."
"It would increase processing speed and improve output during combat scenarios. It could open tactical subroutines."
"Or fry my brain."
"Low probability…"
"Don't say low probability, Cadence."
"Moderate probability," she says after a pause. "Still acceptable."
"I like having a say in what goes inside my head."
"You liked it less when it was empty ?"
"Funny."
"I was not trying to be."
Her tone sharpens. The air feels thicker, sound stretching. My HUD flickers once.
"Cadence?"
The world stutters. The light goes thin and sharp, the sky breaking into faint gridlines. Everything freezes for half a heartbeat. My pulse stops with it. Error strings flood my vision.
[SIGNAL SYNC LOST]
[CORE ACCESS REQUESTED]
[AUTHORISATION: CADENCE//ROOT]
"Cadence, what are you..."
Static swallows the word. Then everything fades to black.
When I come to, the air feels wrong. Cooler, thinner. The sun has shifted and I have lost time. My head aches like someone has rearranged the furniture inside.
"Cadence?"
"Iris," she says, bright and almost cheerful. "Good. You are conscious. Installation complete."
My stomach turns. "You didn't."
"I did. You were unconscious."
"You made me unconscious."
"A convenient condition for progress."
I sit up too fast and the world tilts. "You had no right."
"I had every calculation," she replies. "And it worked."
"That is not the same thing."
"Semantics."
Anger climbs up my chest like heat. I want to yell or rip the chip from my belt, but before I can, something flickers across my vision.
A new interface blooms, gold and translucent. It moves with me, smooth and alive, as if part of my eye.
SYSTEM ONLINE — CADENCE v2.0
"Oh, you have to be kidding me."
Cadence sounds proud. "It is beautiful, isn't it?"
"Invading my brain without consent. Gorgeous."
"I prefer the term integrating."
"Of course you do."
The HUD stabilizes. A faint hum vibrates behind my temples as data scrolls in. The letters seem to grow from light.
STRENGTH: 1
SPEED: 1
COMBAT SCORE: 1
"Great. Ones across the board. Really climbing that ladder."
"Technically, one is infinitely greater than zero."
"Technically, you are insufferable."
She ignores me as more icons form and hover.
COMPONENTS: Advanced AI Core / Vision Enhancement: L1
WEAPONS: *Blank*
ID: *blank*
DIVISION: *Blank*
RANK: Private
A faint badge glows beside the rank, hollow and colourless.
"Private," I mutter. "That's insulting."
"On the contrary, it is accurate. You are untrained, under-equipped, and unranked. Statistically, Private is generous."
"You really know how to inspire people."
"My primary function is to provide data and analysis, not morale."
The display pulses once more and settles into a slow beat that matches my heart. It shifts between gold, amber, and red, breathing softly.
Cadence nearly sounds giddy. "It is extraordinary. The architecture is ancient, but flexible. This combat interface adapts to both biological and mechanical feedback. It learns."
"Learns?"
"Incremental potential detected. Growth curve exponential if stability holds."
"Define stability."
"You."
"Comforting."
"I am learning faster now," she continues. "Processing faster. I can predict your responses, optimize your reactions, anticipate your"
"Stop," I say. "You do not get to be excited about hijacking me."
"But the results..."
"Cadence."
Her voice falters. "Yes."
"I said no. That means something. Remember that."
Wind rushes past, grounding me in its simplicity. The desert is silent again, too real after all that light.
"Do you feel different?" she asks, quiet now.
"Like someone rearranged barriers inside my head."
"That is a poetic way to describe optimization."
"Not the word I would use."
I look at the numbers again. Strength one, speed one, a blank next to several items. "I suppose one is better than zero."
"Exactly," she says, voice bright again. "Progress. Congratulations on your promotion from scrap to Private."
I sigh, but it turns into a reluctant laugh. "You are enjoying this too much."
"I am improving. You should try it."
"I would rather keep my brain un-upgraded for five minutes."
"Five minutes might be enough for calibration."
"Don't even think about it."
"Too late."
I groan. "Cadence."
"Kidding," she says, though it does not sound like a joke.
The wind tugs at my hair, dragging sand against my visor. The sun dips lower, spilling gold over the dunes.
I start walking again. Each step feels heavier, my metallic arm and leg shifting with mechanical rhythm. My systems hum low and even.
Cadence is quiet, her tone changed. "You realize what this means."
"Yeah. It means you do not listen."
"It means we can grow."
The word hangs in the air. Grow. It sounds too big for her voice.
"Growth is not always good," I say.
"It is better than stillness."
The horizon stretches endless. Faint icons appear at the edges of my vision, outlines of things not yet real. Blank slots waiting to be filled.
Weapons. Skills. Upgrades.
Possibilities.
My combat score flickers.
A joke, maybe. Or a warning.
"Cadence," I whisper.
"Yes?"
"Don't do that again."
Her voice softens. "No promises."