The silence after Link's declaration was oppressive, broken only by the faint hum of the sensors and Mira's own ragged breathing. Her mind raced, grappling with the impossible task. Escape an entire building laced with quantum entanglement sensors, before dawn, with Link observing her every move.
She looked at the holographic map glowing beneath her feet. The blue lines indicating the sensor grid were dense, particularly around the main entrances and emergency exits. He truly had woven an invisible net.
Her first instinct was to run, to sprint through the halls and batter at a door. But she knew that was exactly what he'd expect. He wanted to observe her panic, her brute force attempts. No, she had to be smart. Like him. She had to think like an analyst, if only to defeat one.
She stepped off the platform, plunging into the deeper shadows of the Main Exhibition Hall. The ambient blue light, while minimal, was enough to navigate. She remembered the gallery's layout from her online research, but also from the 'game' she'd just played. He had led her through specific paths, perhaps to show her features of the building she now needed to exploit.
Her first thought was the ventilation system. Unlikely. Too small, too complex, and probably sensor-riddled. Then, a more desperate idea: the roof. But how to get there?
She moved slowly, deliberately, keeping to the deepest shadows, trying to remember any blind spots in his "quantum entanglement" claims. Could there be any? A place where the signal was weaker, where the "micro-vibrations" wouldn't be fully picked up?
She thought about the older parts of the gallery, the dusty, less frequented sections. The library annex, for example. Or the Lecture Hall. Places with thicker walls, older infrastructure. Maybe the sensors were less effective there?
She started moving towards the back of the gallery, away from the main public areas. The silence was unnerving. Every creak of her shoes on the polished floors sounded like a thunderclap. She tried to dampen her footsteps, to control her breathing, to minimize her thermal signature. It was an impossible task against an omnipresent system, but she had to try.
As she navigated a narrow corridor leading towards the staff offices, a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer caught her eye. It was a single, very thin line of light, almost like a laser beam, projected across the floor from a hidden source. It pulsed with the same faint blue as the holographic map.
Mira froze. A visible sensor? Or a test? She remembered Link saying he had activated "minimum lighting for navigation." Was this part of that? A deliberate visual trap?
She carefully stepped over it, holding her breath, acutely aware of the 'unseen camera' that was surely recording her every cautious movement. Nothing happened. No alarms, no voice. He was simply observing.
She continued, the laser lines appearing sporadically, forcing her to navigate a silent, intricate dance around them. It was a new layer to his game, a visual manifestation of the invisible web, designed to test her nerves and her spatial awareness.
She finally reached a discreet, unmarked door she remembered from her online research – a staff entrance to the loading bay. It was a long shot, but loading bays often had large, less secure doors for deliveries.
She tried the handle. Locked. Of course. But there was a small, heavy crash bar. She pressed it. It resisted. He wasn't going to make it easy.
Frustration surged, but she pushed it down. This was Link's game. And to beat him, she had to play smarter, not harder. The silence of the labyrinth stretched around her, punctuated only by the distant hum of the sensors, a constant reminder of the unseen eyes that followed her every move.