Chapter 22 Wren
Wren
The alerts start stacking on the screen.
One after another.
Power fluctuations.
Emergency call spikes.
Transportation slowdowns.
Each one blinking across the map like warning flares.
My fingers fly across the keyboard.
“This can’t be a coincidence.”
Behind me, Boone and Adam stand over the table, both watching the screen now.
Russ paces near the window, rifle leaning against the wall. Blade and Miles, stand against the counter.
Outside the wind pushes through the trees harder now.
Like the whole mountain knows something is coming.
Another alert flashes.
Regional Grid Disturbance — Nevada
Then another.
Fuel Distribution Delay — Utah
Then another.
Emergency Dispatch Overload — Arizona
My chest tightens.
“This isn’t natural.”
Boone leans closer.
“What do you mean?”
“These systems shouldn’t fail at the same time.”
Adam nods slowly.
“Cascading failures are usually triggered by something upstream.”
“Exactly.”
I open another panel.
Infrastructure monitoring.
Real-time telemetry streams across the screen.
Thousands of data points.
Power loads.
Routing traffic.
Communications relay status.
I filter the feed.
Looking for anomalies.
Looking for the first domino.
The system highlights a cluster of irregular activity.
Idaho.
My pulse quickens.
“There.”
Boone leans in beside me.
“What are we looking at?”
“Grid control nodes.”
“Meaning?”
“Substations.”
Adam’s voice sharpens.
“You think someone tampered with them.”
“I think someone triggered them.”
Russ turns from the window.
“Sabotage?”
“Possibly.”
I dig deeper.
Opening the grid control interface.
At first everything looks normal.
Load balancing.
Automated adjustments.
Routine system corrections.
Then I see it.
A command sequence.
Buried inside the logs.
Small.
Almost invisible.
But deliberate.
Injected instructions.
Not from the grid operators.
From an external network.
My stomach drops.
“Oh no.”
Boone hears it immediately.
“What?”
“This isn’t system stress.”
“Then what is it?”
I zoom the code.
The command pattern becomes obvious.
The same structure repeating across multiple nodes.
Precise.
Surgical.
Designed to overload stabilizers one region at a time.
Adam’s voice lowers.
“Someone’s pushing the dominoes.”
“Yes.”
Russ exhales slowly.
“So the collapse prediction…”
“…is being manufactured.”
The room goes silent.
Because that means something much worse than coincidence.
It means someone planned this.
I pull up the access trace.
Following the digital trail backward.
Routing nodes.
Proxy servers.
Encrypted relays.
Each step hidden behind another layer of obfuscation.
Professional work.
Military-grade network masking.
But the origin point still exists somewhere.
It always does.
The trace finally stops.
At a command node.
My heart starts racing.
Because I recognize the encryption architecture immediately.
It’s the same structure as the network itself.
Which means only one entity would have access to it.
I look up slowly.
“Boone…”
“Yeah?”
“It’s coming from inside the system.”
Adam frowns.
“The Architect’s network?”
“Yes.”
Russ lets out a low whistle.
“Well, that’s not good.”
Boone stares at the screen.
“You’re saying the system designed to respond to collapse…”
“…is causing it.”
“Yes.”
Another alert flashes.
Grid Failure Escalation — Idaho
The map lights up again.
More nodes are turning red.
The cascade is accelerating.
Boone grabs the radio.
“Architect.”
Static crackles for a moment.
Then the calm voice returns.
“Yes, Mr. Grant?”
Boone’s voice turns cold.
“You said the collapse had begun.”
“That is correct.”
“You didn’t say you were causing it.”
A short pause.
Then the Architect answers quietly—
“I didn’t say I wasn’t.”
The room freezes.
Russ stares at the radio.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Boone grips the mic tighter.
“You’re sabotaging national infrastructure.”
“No.”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing.”
The Architect’s voice remains calm.
“I’m accelerating the inevitable.”
Adam steps closer to the table.
“Power grids are failing.”
“Yes.”
“Emergency systems are overloading.”
“Yes.”
“People could die.”
Another pause.
Then the Architect says something that chills the entire room.
“People are already dying.”
Silence crashes across the cabin.
Because suddenly this isn’t theory anymore.
It’s happening.
Right now.
Boone’s voice lowers.
“You’re starting the collapse to prove your system works.”
“No.”
“Then why?”
The Architect answers simply.
“Because if we wait until it happens naturally…”
“…there will be no one left capable of controlling it.”
The countdown timer continues ticking.
10:46:12
Outside the wind rises again.
Branches slam against the cabin roof.
And the terrible realization settles over all of us at the same time.
The Architect isn’t preparing for disaster.
He’s creating it.
And unless we stop him—
In less than eleven hours…
His system will take control of whatever survives.