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Stephanie woke up the next morning feeling oddly calm.
The plan hadn’t fully formed yet, but the decision had—and that made all the difference. She feels unusually calm and focused as she moves through her routine. Deciding to act had made everything feel simpler.
On the drive to work, her mind was churning. She had to get access to the fifth floor, secretly. She needed a way in. Who could help her? Stephanie put together, in her head, the outline of a plan. No one knew the complete operation of the NovaDyne facility better than she did.
It was a beautiful day, and Stephanie decided to order lunch from a local restaurant that delivers for her and her friend Vallery. She decided to eat outside, away from the breakroom with its many cameras. There are a couple of tables under a big oak tree, near the lake. Perfect spot. Vallery arrives.
“This saves so much time, Steph,” Vallery told her. “Normally, you rush in traffic to the restaurant, rush to order, rush to eat, and then rush to get back to work on time. That is not much of a break.”
“Yeah,” Stephanie replied, “I hope you like Pad Thai, and I got extra dumplings, they are so good. Trust me.”
Vallery poked at her noodles, then glanced up. “Okay,” she said, squinting slightly. “You didn’t drag me outside just for dumplings. What’s going on?”
Stephanie shrugged a little too quickly. “I can’t invite my best friend to lunch without an agenda?”
Val snorted. “You can. You just never do.”
Stephanie smiled, conceding the point. “Fair enough.”
They ate in silence for a moment, the breeze moving gently through the oak branches above them. The lake shimmered nearby, deceptively peaceful.
“So,” Stephanie said carefully, “hypothetically… what would you think if a company claimed they could influence behavior using neuroscience?”
Vallery didn’t answer right away. She chewed thoughtfully, then said, “That depends. Influence how?”
Stephanie kept her tone light. “Let’s say… subtle compliance. Following instructions without resistance.”
Val’s chopsticks paused midair.
“That’s not hypothetical,” she said. “That’s half the industry’s wet dream.”
Stephanie raised an eyebrow. “And the other half?”
“Terrified of it,” Val replied. “For good reason.”
She set the chopsticks down. “You don’t get obedience without bypassing something fundamental. Memory. Identity. Internal narration.”
Stephanie’s pulse quickened, but she kept her face neutral. “Internal narration?”
Val nodded. “The voice in your head. The one that tells you what you want, what you’re thinking. If you could insert a signal there—make it feel self-generated—you wouldn’t need force. You’d just need timing.”
Stephanie felt a chill and then spoke slowly in deep thought. “So… someone could hear a command and think it was their own idea?”
“In theory,” Val said. “If you had the right interface. Something small. Proximal. Non-invasive.”
Stephanie hesitated. “Like audio?”
Val smiled faintly. “Now you’re talking my language.”
Stephanie looked down at her food, then back up. “And if a system like that existed… you think it would be obvious?”
Val shook her head. “No. The scariest designs never are. They’re quiet. Clean. Modular.”
“Modular?”
“Separate components,” Val said. “Different teams. Different expertise. That way no one person understands the whole thing.”
Stephanie swallowed.
“That’s… efficient,” she said.
Val studied her. “Now you’re fishing.”
Stephanie met her gaze. “No, not at all, I’m just curious.”
“Curiosity gets people reassigned,” Val said lightly. Then, after a beat, “Or promoted.”
Stephanie laughed softly. “You’ve been called upstairs lately.”
Val raised an eyebrow. “You noticed?”
“I notice things, it’s my job.”
Val leaned back in her chair. “Not often. And not for long. I help fine-tune signal clarity. Reduce interference. That kind of thing.”
“On the fifth floor,” Stephanie said.
Val nodded once. “Restricted access. Temporary clearance. Very compartmentalized. I go up there whenever they call me.”
Stephanie forced herself to breathe evenly. “And you’re okay with that?”
Val considered the question. “I’m okay with knowing exactly what my part does,” she said. “And nothing more.”
Val tilted her head. “Why?”
Stephanie smiled, just enough. “No reason. I just like to know how things work.”
Val’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary.
“Careful, Steph,” she said gently. “Some systems are designed so understanding them is the first mistake.”
Stephanie picked up a dumpling. “Good thing I’m not trying to understand everything.”
Val smiled back—but there was a flicker of something unreadable in her expression.
“Guess who’s going on a date?” Stephanie announced, suddenly bright.
Vallery’s face lit up. “Girlfriend, what are you going to wear?”
Derek arrived at Stephanie’s apartment around 7:30. As she stepped outside, she realized she’d never seen him in regular clothes before. Clean-cut. Blue slacks. A crisp button-down. He looked… different. And she liked it.
“I got us a table at the Silver Swann,” he said. “Ever been?”
“No.”
“Good,” he replied with a smile. “It’s quiet. Waterfront view. And they just hired a French chef.”
Stephanie raised an eyebrow. “A French chef?”
“Don’t worry,” Derek said. “He’s heavily influenced by American cuisine. Everything there is good.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Their table sat right by the window, overlooking the water. Derek was relaxed—lighter than she’d ever seen him. No work talk. No guarded pauses. He told her stories about moving to the city, about places he’d explored, things he’d learned. She listened, surprised at how easy it felt.
This felt like a real date.
“So,” Derek said, smiling, “your mom was born in Paris?”
Stephanie nodded. “She moved here when she was young. That’s where she met my dad.”
“And she taught you French?”
“Still does,” Stephanie laughed. “She refuses to let me forget it.”
The food arrived, beautifully plated.
“Another glass of wine?” the waiter asked.
Stephanie hesitated—then nodded. “Sure.”
By the end of the meal, the wine had softened her edges. She leaned back slightly, warmer now, looser.
“You know,” she said, “this whole thing at NovaDyne is really bothering me.”
Derek’s expression shifted. “How so?”
“I don’t mean to sound righteous,” she said, her voice just a touch louder than before, “but it’s wrong. What kind of person controls someone else and just goes home like nothing happened?”
Derek glanced around. A few nearby diners were starting to listen.
Stephanie took another sip. “You can’t just stand by and let people take advantage of others. Someone has to stop it.”
Derek stood smoothly. “Hey,” he said gently, taking her hand. “Let’s get some air.”
“But I wasn’t finished,” she protested.
“It’s okay,” he said, meeting her eyes. “We’ll talk outside.”
She let him guide her toward the exit.
“I like you,” she said softly as they stepped into the night.
Once outside, the noise of the restaurant faded behind them.
Derek glanced at her. “Okay,” he said. “Now we can talk.”
Stephanie took a breath, steadier now. “If we’re going to figure out what’s really happening, the fifth floor is the problem. And I think I know a way in.”
Derek’s expression didn’t change. “And that worries you.”
“Yes,” she admitted. “Because it means bringing someone else into this.”
He nodded. “That’s a big step. Who?”
“My best friend. Vallery.”
Derek considered that. “Your best friend,” he repeated. “That could be a good thing.”
Then, more carefully, “You trust her?”
“Completely,” Stephanie said. “That’s not the issue.”
“Then what is?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know if it’s fair to pull her into something this dangerous.”
Derek studied her for a moment. “Why do you need her?”
Stephanie met his eyes. “Because she has access to the fifth floor.”
That got his attention.
He exhaled slowly. “Okay,” he said. “That changes things.”
Derek turned away, staring out at the street for a moment. When he looked back at her, something had shifted. The warmth was still there—but now it was layered beneath focus. Precision.
The security guard had returned.
“If you involve her,” he said, “we contain information. She only knows what she needs to know—nothing more. Don’t tell her about the video. The less she knows, the safer she is.”
Stephanie nodded, listening.
“And I need to be there when you talk to her,” he continued. “I don’t have to lead the conversation. I just need to hear it.”
“Why?” Stephanie asked quietly.
“Because I can read people,” he said. “And if she hesitates—even a little—we stop. No exceptions.”
He paused, then added, “There’s no margin for error here.”
“And no records,” he went on. “No personal devices. No saved files. Nothing traceable. Don’t talk about this in a car. Don’t talk about it on a phone. If this happens, it happens clean.”
Stephanie took that in. “Of course,” she said. “It has to be untraceable.”
He met her eyes. “And it’s still your decision.”
She studied him for a moment. “You really think this will protect her?”
“I know it will,” he said. “As much as anything can.”
After the date, Stephanie decided to ask for Vallery’s assistance. After all, she did trust Vallery. But that evening, she needed to put a piece of the plan for getting the serum into action.
She made a call. A voice answered on the second ring.
“You don’t call unless you need something impossible.”
“I need wearable capture,” Stephanie said.
A pause.
“Define wearable.”
“First-person,” she replied. “Line-of-sight. No hands. No indicators. Natural movement.”
The voice on the line exhaled slowly.
“Eyewear.”
She sat down. “Yeah, but I need three capabilities.”
The voice laughed once. “I’m already concerned.”
“Natural vision in full 4K,” she continued calmly. “True color. No distortion.”
“That’s doable,” the voice said. “Pricey, but doable.”
“Second,” Stephanie added, “infrared.”
Another pause.
“You’re mapping people?”
“Heat signatures,” she said.
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Close enough,” Stephanie replied.
The voice on the other end of the line sighed. “Okay. What’s the third thing?”
She hesitated — just long enough to matter.
“See-through-wall capability.”
There was silence on the line.
“That’s not eyewear,” the voice said carefully. “That’s military-grade imaging.”
“I don’t need X-ray vision,” Stephanie replied. “I need density variation. Hidden rooms. Shielded compartments. Anything that doesn’t belong.”
“You’re talking about radar-assisted spatial mapping layered over visual input.”
“Yes,” Stephanie replied. “I’m talking about finding something that doesn’t want to be found.” Another pause.
“You know this won’t be real-time,” the voice said. “I can overlay it after capture. You’ll get the map later.”
“That’s fine,” she said. “As long as it sees everything.”
“You’re asking me to build glasses that don’t exist.”
Stephanie smiled faintly. “Yep, only because I know you can do it.”
“How soon?”
“Yesterday.”
The voice laughed quietly. “I already knew that.”
“Who’s wearing them?” the voice asked.
“None ya,” she said. “You’re on a need-to-know basis.”
“Wow, I really feel appreciated.”
“I know,” Stephanie said, laughing.
Stephanie and Derek decided to have lunch in the park on Sunday. They both agreed this would be the perfect opportunity to invite Vallery and see if they could get her to help map out the fifth floor. Of course, Vallery was excited because she got to spend time with Steph’s new boyfriend.
Stephanie and Derek chose a park far from the city—no buildings, no crowds, no cameras. Just grass, trees, and the steady hum of wind through leaves.
Vallery arrived smiling, immediately taking Derek in.
“So,” she said, sitting down, “did you like the dress she wore on your first date?”
Derek didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.”
Val grinned. “I picked it out.”
He nodded once. “You have excellent taste. Steph’s lucky to have you.”
Val smiled, genuinely pleased.
Stephanie waited. She always did.
Then—casually—
“Val, I wanted to ask you something.”
“All ears.”
Stephanie kept her voice light. “I’ve been hearing… things. Nothing concrete. Just that the fifth floor’s been busier than usual.”
Val raised an eyebrow. “Busy how?”
“That’s the thing,” Stephanie said. “I don’t know.”
She let the silence sit.
“You go up there sometimes,” Stephanie added. “I thought maybe you’d noticed something. Layout changes. New rooms. Equipment that doesn’t match what they say they’re working on.”
Val leaned back slightly. “You’re asking me to snoop.”
“No,” Stephanie said quickly. “I’m asking you to notice.”
Derek said nothing—but his eyes stayed on Val now, calm and focused.
Val studied Stephanie for a moment. “You know what they say about curiosity.”
“I do,” Stephanie said. “And if you’re not comfortable, we drop it. No hard feelings.”
Another pause.
Then Val smiled—slowly. “If they didn’t want people curious, they shouldn’t have made it so interesting.”
Stephanie exhaled without realizing she’d been holding her breath.
“I’ll keep my eyes open,” Val continued. “Next time I’m up there.”
“And Val,” Stephanie said carefully, “this stays between us.”
Val nodded. “Of course.”
Derek finally spoke. Just once.
“Observation only,” he said. “No risks.”
Val glanced at him, then back at Stephanie. “Got it.”
They finished lunch like nothing had happened. But something had.
Later that week, Stephanie waited for a quiet moment.
The workday ended in a slow spill of people exiting the building, conversations fading into the open air. When Val stepped off the elevator, Stephanie fell into step beside her.
“How was your day?” Stephanie asked.
“Not bad,” Val replied.
They crossed the parking lot together. A car door slammed somewhere behind them. When they reached Val’s car, Stephanie stopped and reached into her bag, pulling out a slim case.
“What’s that?” Val asked.
“Eyewear,” Stephanie said simply.
Val opened the case.
The glasses were sleek. Lightweight. Stylish enough to pass for something expensive but forgettable. Nothing about them screamed prototype or classified. If anything, they looked like something a design executive would wear to a meeting.
Val lifted them, turning them slightly.
“These aren’t standard,” she said.
Stephanie smiled faintly. “No.”
“What do they do?”
“They capture,” Stephanie replied. “Line-of-sight only. No interaction required.”
Val’s expression sharpened. “Capture what?”
“What you see.”
Silence.
“You want me to record the fifth floor,” Val said carefully.
“Yes.”
Val didn’t ask why. Instead, she examined the glasses more closely, running a finger along the frame.
“No indicator lights,” she noted. “No controls.”
“They start when you put them on,” Stephanie said. “They stop when you take them off.”
Val looked up. “Resolution?”
“High enough to matter.”
That earned a small, impressed smile.
“And what exactly am I looking for?”
Stephanie met her eyes. “Anything that doesn’t fit.”
Val studied her for a long moment.
“This isn’t curiosity anymore,” she said quietly.
Stephanie didn’t deny it.
“You’re sure you want me involved?”
Stephanie nodded once. “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t. You know I trust you.”
Val closed the case.
“I’ll wear them next time I’m called up,” she said. “But Steph—if I see something dangerous—”
“We stop,” Stephanie said immediately. “No heroics. No risks.”
Val smiled. “Funny. That almost sounded like security protocol.”
She opened her car door. “All right. Observation only.”
Stephanie managed a smile. “They’re pretty stylish. You’re going to look great uncovering corporate secrets.”
Val shook her head, smiling as she pulled away.
Stephanie stayed where she was until the car disappeared from view.
Only then did she realize her hands were shaking.
Two days later, while at work, Vallery’s cell phone beeped. A meeting notification appeared on the screen:
Fifth Floor- Audio Interface Meeting 11:30 am, Conference room 5B
Her immediate reaction was to check her bag. The case with the glasses was still there. She breathed a sigh of relief, and then the nervousness started to hit her. There was nothing to be nervous about, all she had to do was to wear the glasses and walk around the floor, easy-peasy. The meeting would last 30 minutes, and she would be out of there.
Val left about 5 minutes early. She slipped on the glasses for the first time and entered the elevator. When the elevator doors opened, the fifth floor greeted her with a silence that felt intentional. The air was cooler here. Not uncomfortably so—just precise. The lighting was brighter, whiter, as if shadows weren’t welcome. Hallways branched off in clean lines, each marked with subtle signage that said just enough and nothing more.
Val walked slowly. Naturally. As if she belonged.
She passed glass-walled labs, each one revealing fragments of work—equipment humming softly, technicians moving with practiced efficiency. No clutter. No personal items. Everything here felt temporary, even permanent things.
The glasses captured it all. Layout. Room spacing. Door placement.
She noticed something else, too. Certain areas absorbed sound differently. The hum of machinery would fade abruptly near specific walls, replaced by a dull quiet that suggested reinforcement—shielding.
Interesting.
Val reached the conference room early. She put her things down on the conference table and continued her stroll to the restroom. She made sure to cover the entire floor, checking everything out with her new glasses.
She returned to the conference room and quietly took a seat near the end of the table and waited. One by one, others arrived—four employees she recognized vaguely from cross-department work. Smart. Focused. All wearing green-striped badges.
Then Dr. Elara Quinn entered. She didn’t rush. She didn’t smile. She simply took her place at the head of the table, and the room aligned itself around her.
“Thank you for coming,” Dr. Quinn said. Her voice was calm, measured, and unmistakably confident. “Let’s begin.”
The meeting focused on audio fidelity, latency, and signal clarity. Quinn asked tough questions. The kind that assumed deep understanding and punished vague answers.
Val answered when prompted—carefully, clearly.
At one point, Dr. Quinn paused mid-sentence.
“Ms. Harper,” she said, turning slightly. “Your assessment of interference thresholds—can you elaborate?”
Val did. Not long. Not short. Just enough.
Dr. Quinn listened without interruption. When Val finished, Quinn nodded once.
“Exactly,” she said. “That’s the distinction most people miss.”
The meeting wrapped up efficiently. As others gathered their things, Dr. Quinn looked back to Val.
“Ms. Harper,” she said. “A word?”
Val felt it then—that subtle shift. Opportunity always felt like this. They went to the big corner office down the hall. Dr. Quinn’s office was quieter than the rest of the floor. Softer lighting. Thicker walls. A great view.
When Val entered the office, she immediately noticed a refrigerated cabinet against the far wall. It had a glass front, and it was temperature-controlled. Inside were neatly arranged vials—rows of liquids in varying colors: amber, pale blue, gold, clear.
Organized. Labeled. Untouched.
Dr. Quinn saw Vallery looking at it.
“Controlled compounds,” she said casually. “Prototype materials.”
Val nodded, filing the image away.
“I wanted to speak with you about your work,” Dr. Quinn continued. “Your understanding of neuro-communication is… remarkable.”
“Thank you,” Val said.
“You see patterns,” Quinn added. “Where others see data.”
Val said nothing. Dr. Quinn folded her hands. “I’m assembling a more permanent team here on the fifth floor. Select personnel. Expanded clearance. Substantial compensation.”
She let the words hang.
“I think you would be an excellent fit.”
Val’s heart rate increased—but only slightly.
“That’s… flattering,” she said.
“Think about it,” Dr. Quinn replied. “We’ll speak again soon.”
Val nodded.
As she left the office, she felt the weight of the glasses on her face.
Still silent. Still watching. She stepped into the elevator and pressed the button. Only when the doors closed did she allow herself to exhale. She had seen more than enough.
And Stephanie was going to want every second of it. Val thought to herself, ‘How much of a pay increase is substantial compensation?’