The pursuit began politely.
Taylor noticed it in the smallest possible way: his commute ran long. Not enough to justify a complaint. Just long enough to register. The walkway hesitated twice, correcting itself with a softness that felt rehearsed.
\\ ROUTE OPTIMIZED.
He stopped walking.
Others flowed around him without irritation, paths adjusting to preserve harmony. The system waited. Patient. Observant.
Taylor stepped forward again.
The city resumed as if nothing had happened.
At work, a new task appeared in his queue.
It shouldn’t have.
Observers weren’t assigned active investigations. Their role was retrospective, confirmatory.
This task was marked differently—no urgency tag, no visible origin.
\\ VERIFICATION REQUEST: SUBJECTIVE ANOMALY.
His mouth went dry.
The task opened into a mirror.
Not literally. A composite profile assembled from his own data: sleep irregularities, route deviations, delayed responses, elevated cognitive variance. Harmless metrics in isolation.
Together, a pattern.
Taylor closed the task.
It reopened.
A soft tone sounded. Not an alarm. A reminder.
\\ PLEASE COMPLETE TO IMPROVE SYSTEM ACCURACY.
He stood abruptly, chair sliding back louder than intended. A few colleagues glanced up, concern already dissolving into neutrality.
“I need air,” he said.
No one questioned it.
Outside, the sky was perfect. It always was. Clouds arranged themselves with aesthetic restraint. The temperature hovered exactly where comfort outweighed sensation.
Taylor walked without destination.
The device burned in his pocket now—not warm, not active, just present. He imagined it pulsing, broadcasting him like a fault line.
He turned down a side street.
The street brightened.
Subtle. Almost kind.
He turned again. Same result. The city didn’t block him; it corrected him. Each deviation smoothed into something more efficient, more visible.
A chime sounded in his ear.
\\ CHECK-IN AVAILABLE.
His heart hammered.
“No,” he whispered.
The word felt treasonous.
He ducked into a transit stairwell—one of the older ones, rarely used. The lights lagged by half a second when he entered.
Good.
He descended two levels before the signal returned.
\\ LOCATION CONFIRMED.
Footsteps echoed above him.
They were not hurried.
Two figures appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in the same neutral tones as everyone else. No insignia. No weapons. Their presence felt administrative.
“Taylor,” one of them said, voice warm, practiced. “You’ve been experiencing some variance.
We’re here to help.”
Help had always sounded like relief before.
Now it sounded like containment.
“I’m fine,” he said.
“Of course,” the other replied. “That’s consistent with your profile.”
They descended one step.
Taylor’s hand closed around the device.
Every instinct screamed not to use it. Not yet. Using it would collapse possibilities into consequences.
“Please return with us,” the first said gently. “This process is painless.”
The lights flickered.
Not overhead.
In his pocket.
The device vibrated once.
Taylor looked up.
The agents paused, expressions unchanged—but something in the air shifted, like a held breath.
The device warmed.
Not hot. Alive.
Behind the agents, a maintenance panel slid open a fraction of an inch.
Just enough.
Taylor didn’t think.
He ran.