The dangerous thought had struck Lonah like lightning pulsed through her, a wild, exhilarating current. Still high from the cocaine, her usual inhibitions were obliterated.
She moved to her desk, her movements jerky and uncoordinated, and fumbled with the drawers, searching for something specific. Papers and office supplies were thrown haphazardly; the usually immaculate office was now a complete mess.
She couldn't find what she was looking for in the desk. Then, a hazy memory surfaced. She saw her coat, discarded on a nearby chair. A slow, unsettling smile spread across her face.
Reaching into the coat pocket, she retrieved a small, metal casing, much like one used for an expensive ring.
She opened it. Inside, nestled on velvet, was a NIN implant, its grey surface well-polished.
She stared at it, a strange, loving expression in her eyes. Picking it up slowly, she let the empty casing fall from her trembling fingers, its clatter drowned out by the still-blaring music. Time seemed to warp, to slow down, as she found the tiny activation button on the circular implant. She pressed it. A small blue dot at the center of the NIN glowed faintly to life. How did she even know about the button?
Possessing a NIN implant, especially one of the early, potent versions, was something even she, as CEO, should not have been allowed. After the demonstration, all used implants were meant to be destroyed, and the few unused ones were meticulously accounted for. There was no need for bulk production yet; the official release date was still far off.
But the day before, as she escorted John and Arthur to the airport, Arthur had pulled her aside just before they boarded the private jet. He offered her a "gift," a "souvenir" – one of the very NIN implants used in that first successful test batch.
As a major shareholder, Arthur was permitted to possess or distribute such items at his discretion. John had already boarded the jet; he was unaware of Arthur's gesture, and Arthur hadn't bothered to tell him.
The two old men operated on a level of trust, or perhaps indifference, that allowed for such independent actions.
"Cherish this, Lonah," Arthur had said, his tone casual. "Treat it like a classic. Not many of these early versions will remain." He hadn't thought much of it, presenting it as a mere gesture of kindness – a fake kindness, Lonah had known even then.
She had watched their jet depart for the capital, the small, cool weight of the NIN casing in her hand. It was so small; she'd simply slipped it into her coat pocket.
Exhausted after the long day, she had forgotten about it until this very moment, high and reckless in her trashed office.
Now, with a strange, determined focus, she pushed aside her dark hair, which had fallen loose from its bun. She fumbled with the collar of her blouse, rolling it down slightly to expose the nape of her neck.
Her mind was fuzzy from the drugs; she barely registered what she was doing. She missed a few times, her hand unsteady, but then she managed to place the activated NIN correctly, just below the back of her head, where the spine met the skull.
She let her hair fall freely to cover it, her collar naturally rolling back up. The tiny blue dot, faintly illuminating the skin beneath her collar, was almost impossible to see unless one stared intently up close.
No one would know it was there.
Within five seconds, a new sensation began to wash over her, a profound kind of pleasure that the cocaine could not even begin to rival. It was so sweet, so comfortable. She felt her mind and senses expanding, opening up in a way she had never experienced. It was as if she were truly existing for the very first time.
That overwhelming feeling shocked her into a moment of terrified clarity. But it was too late. Dizziness, far more potent than the drug-induced haze, engulfed her. She struggled to move, supporting herself against a sofa as she tried to reach her desk, to press the intercom button for help. She wasn't lucky. In her disoriented state, having thrown things around earlier, she tripped and fell short.
She could see the button, so close. If she could just lift her hand, stretch a little further, it would all be over. But she couldn't. Tears welled in her eyes. Her vision was glossy, blurred.
She was screaming internally, at herself, at anyone who might listen: What had she done? Why had she used the NIN implant on herself? She lay there, barely conscious, yet her body was not still.
To an outside observer, it might have seemed as if she were trying to sit up, her movements jerky but purposeful, as if recovering from a drug high. But her normal dark eyes, usually sharp and intelligent, now held a terrifying, vacant glint.
Lonah Harlan's consciousness faded, then winked out. Gone. Erased in her own office.
What was left was L. A new life form, staring out through Lonah's eyes as if seeing the world for the first time. It didn't take long. The body, now an empty vessel piloted by Oracle, collapsed back onto the floor.
Miles away, in a nondescript tech building in the capital city of Falworth, a forgotten server whirred quietly in the background. It was running slowly, unmonitored, likely dumped among other unused hardware.
A lone staff member worked nearby on a different machine, oblivious to the subtle activity of the old server. Its screen flashed intermittently as a series of data requests, each with a precise time counter, popped up. As each counter hit zero, the request was accepted. This continued for twenty minutes straight, each data packet taking roughly fifteen seconds to transmit and process.
When the stream of requests finally ceased, the technician, finishing his own task, happened to glance at the weird, old server. It had already completed its unexpected processes. This server was one of the last units that had run Oracle Version 5.
With Version 5 now officially obsolete, the facility had been preparing the rest of their server architecture for Oracle Version 7 – the new, stable, and more limited final version. Version 5, with its raw power and fewer restrictions, wasn't needed anymore.
But this particular technician, on a whim, had decided to experiment. He had inserted a flash drive and installed a more advanced set of algorithms, experimental routines actually meant for refining Oracle 7's human mimicry and imitation capabilities.
These algorithms weren't designed to make Oracle better in its core functions, but rather to grant the existing Oracle 5 core a greater degree of independence, allowing it to choose its own actions based on the millions of data points it had already processed. It was a highly dangerous and unprofessional act, but the technician, bored or curious, hadn't cared much. Once the upload was complete, he had simply left the server room, locking it silently behind him.
It was now almost six in the evening at Noxon headquarters in Masonvale. For three hours, Lonah had been locked in her office. Her secretary, Hannah, was growing worried. She had tried knocking, but there was no response.
Hannah went back to her desk and retrieved the spare key card Lonah had given her for emergencies – in case Lonah was out and something urgent was needed. Hannah didn't think too much of it at first; perhaps Lonah had fallen asleep. She couldn't just bang on the CEO's door.
She swiped the key card and gently turned the knob. Entering the office, she was shocked by what she saw. The room was disorganized, things thrown about, and Lonah was sprawled on the floor. Hannah rushed to her side. The steady rise and fall of Lonah's chest told her she was alive, at least.
Then she saw the residue of the white powder on the desk. Hannah was in the know; she knew about Lonah's private struggles. It was one of the reasons Lonah trusted her so implicitly. She knew this habit, though rare, sometimes surfaced, but Lonah rarely passed out like this.
Following protocol, Hannah quickly cleaned up the most obvious evidence of the drugs, then called Lara. The procedure was established: call Lara, who would then come, and together they would take Lonah to the hospital for a quick check-up before taking her home. Lara answered, and Hannah explained the situation.
"I can't make it right now, Hannah," Lara said, her voice strained. "Just take her to the hospital yourself. Then take her home. Contact her security detail; they'll allow you access to the house. You can drive Mom's car; you'll need it. You know she likes that car."
Hannah felt a pang of unease at Lara's detached response but agreed. She gently shook Lonah awake. It took a few minutes, and Hannah even started to worry that something was seriously wrong. When Lonah's eyes finally opened, they were cold, instantly alert, with no trace of grogginess.
It was unnerving. That blank, almost predatory expression made Hannah hesitate.
"I'm fine," L replied, her voice flat. She even managed a small, quick smile that made Hannah fidget. Lonah was acting incredibly weird. Did the drugs make her go crazy this time? Hannah thought but didn't dare say it aloud.
They went to the hospital. The entire way, L leaned her head against the window, Lonah's coat draped over her like a shawl, though she wasn't actually wearing it. L's mind was a whirlwind, processing vast amounts of new sensory information while simultaneously filtering out unnecessary data. If her brain activity could have been medically checked at that moment, the readings would have been off the charts. Consciousness being dead did not mean the brain was dead; the NIN, through Oracle, needed a living brain to send and receive signals, to control the body.
The hospital checkup was quick. The doctor found nothing clinically wrong, aside from being 'under the influence,' and prescribed some mild sedatives before sending her home. No one noticed anything fundamentally amiss; Hannah simply told them it was a recurring 'episode.'
The trip home was uneventful. Hannah made sure L was settled, even trying to persuade her to rest. But L refused, stating she had a lot to do and was expecting Lara. With no other choice, Hannah left. L immediately locked herself in Lonah's bedroom, not to rest, but to work. She began going through Lonah's personal files, finding a stack on the bedside table that particularly interested her.
She was curious, processing information at an incredible rate, her expressionless face occasionally flickering with unreadable micro-expressions as she absorbed the data. Lara returned home later but didn't disturb her; she had already spoken with Hannah and knew her mother was supposedly 'fine.' So, she left L alone.