The Guild OS alert flashed in Gareth's vision. A cold, insistent red.
<
<<[ACTIVITY: UNSANCTIONED ORGANIZING>>
<
<
He sighed and rubbed his temples. The numbers from the factory were good. The mergers were successful. Why couldn't she just let things be?
His legal advisor, a thin man named Evard, stood across the table. The meeting room was chilled. Efficient. No warmth wasted.
"The activity is concerning," Evard said, placing a data-slate on the table. "She's teaching methods. Building a parallel structure."
Gareth scanned the report. Workshops on contract appraisal. Mutual aid protocols. People were organizing themselves.
She's building exactly what I wanted to build. Before I knew better.
"We have options," Evard continued. "We can issue a formal censure. Revoke her organizer credentials. If necessary, we can expel her from the Guild entirely."
The words hung in the cold air. Final. Heavy.
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Gareth stood and walked to the window. The city lights glittered below. Orderly. Predictable.
Anya reminded him of himself. Twenty years younger. Full of fire and stupid, beautiful ideals.
He remembered the strike. The solidarity. The belief that people, united, could not be defeated.
Then he remembered the evictions. The crying children. The slow, quiet suffering that followed their noble defeat.
That's what she doesn't understand. Principles break. Systems endure.
"I'm protecting the Guild," he whispered to his reflection. "I'm protecting us. This is necessary. This is—"
His eyes drifted toward his office. Toward the locked drawer.
He could almost feel the photograph through the walls. The young man screaming his beliefs into the uncaring air.
That boy had never made a hard choice. He had never sacrificed one person to save a hundred.
-----------------------
He turned back to Evard. His face was a mask of calm.
"We don't make this personal," Gareth said. His voice was even. Controlled. "We follow procedure."
Evard nodded, tapping his data-slate. "A formal investigation, then. Into 'unauthorized use of Guild resources for personal network building.'"
The phrase was perfect. Bureaucratic. Neutral. It made her work sound selfish. Corrupt.
It wasn't malicious. It was procedural. That was what made it so devastating.
Gareth picked up the official Guild stamp. It was heavy in his hand. Heavier than it should be.
He brought it down on the authorization document.
THUMP.
The sound was final. A death knell for a dream.
"It's done," Evard said, gathering the papers. "The summons will be delivered tonight."
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After Evard left, Gareth stood alone in the silent room.
He poured himself a glass of water. It was cold and clean. But it tasted like ash.
He had just authorized the destruction of the last echo of his younger self. He had chosen the machine over the man.
He walked to his office. The locked drawer seemed to pulse in the dim light.
He could open it. He could look at the boy he used to be. He could remember what it felt like to believe.
His hand hovered over the lock.
Then he pulled it back.
He didn't open the drawer. He couldn't afford to.
The ghost would have to stay locked away. For the good of the Guild.
For the good of everyone.
------------------------------------
Anya was teaching a small group how to spot hidden contract clauses when the message arrived.
A sharp, official chime cut through the warm, busy air of the workshop.
A Guild enforcer stood in the doorway. His face was stern. He held out a formal scroll.
"Anya," he said. "By order of the Consolidator."
She took the scroll. The paper was thick. Important.
She unrolled it. The words were cold. Legal.
NOTICE OF FORMAL INVESTIGATION
CHARGES: UNAUTHORIZED USE OF GUILD RESOURCES
DISCIPLINARY HEARING: 7 DAYS HENCE
The people around her fell silent. The warmth of collaboration suddenly felt fragile.
The siege had begun.