Westane knelt. Routine . Bag. Neutralizer. Burn.
For the first time in twelve years, Westane didn’t follow the protocol. He turned left instead of right. Toward Sector 0. Toward the Private core. The Company -v5.12.0 Public- -Westane-
Westane broke into a run.
The silver in my blood isn’t poison. It’s a seed. When I die, I won’t stop. I’ll become part of the infrastructure. A living relay. The Company isn’t an organization. It’s a parasite. Version 5.12.0 Private is the manual for how to eat your own species from the inside out. Westane knelt
Westane grabbed his kit. Sealed bag, chemical neutralizer, portable incinerator. Routine meant someone had died where they shouldn’t have. Not in a medbay. Not in a cryo-pod. Somewhere messy. Somewhere private . The Company -v5.12.0 Public- -Westane-