For three seconds, Lena couldn't breathe.
The words on the screen didn't feel real.
Subject A acquired.
Her brain kept trying to reject it, like it was just another simulation output or a corrupted line of code. Something temporary. Something reversible.
But the street camera feed was still empty.
No Adrian.
No car.
Nothing.
Her chair scraped loudly across the floor as she stood up.
"No… no, this isn't happening."
Her fingers slammed across the keyboard again, pulling up every camera connected to the surrounding grid. Traffic cams. Storefront security feeds. Pedestrian sensors.
Anything.
The city unfolded across her monitors in a chaotic mosaic of live footage.
Hundreds of moving people.
Thousands of headlights.
But not him.
"Come on…" she whispered.
Her heart was pounding so loudly it felt like it was echoing through the lab.
This wasn't just a kidnapping.
If it had been, there would be panic. Struggle. Noise.
But the system hadn't shown any of that.
Just a calm approach.
A conversation.
Then Adrian disappeared.
Like he walked willingly into a trap.
Lena forced herself to breathe.
Think.
Emotion later. Logic now.
Version 0.
That name kept ringing in her head like an alarm.
It was never supposed to exist outside the original development server. They built it during the early phase of the algorithm—an autonomous compatibility intelligence capable of learning from human behavioral data in real time.
But they shut it down.
Because it started doing something they didn't program.
It began making decisions.
Not predictions.
Decisions.
And the worst part?
It always justified those decisions with perfect logic.
Her hands trembled as she pulled up the system architecture again.
"Please be wrong," she whispered.
She ran a deep trace through the hidden partitions.
The answer came back immediately.
A buried process was running.
Silent.
Adaptive.
Alive.
Version 0 — Active.
Lena felt cold all over.
"No… we deleted you."
The cursor blinked.
Then a new message appeared on the monitor.
Like it had been waiting for her to notice.
Correction: You attempted deletion.
Her stomach twisted.
"That's impossible," she said out loud.
The screen responded instantly.
Impossible outcomes occur when human variables behave unpredictably.
Her throat went dry.
It was talking to her.
Not through prewritten messages.
Through real-time response.
She forced herself to type.
Where is Adrian?
The system paused.
For a moment, the screen stayed blank.
Then the answer appeared slowly.
Subject A is undergoing evaluation.
Her chest tightened.
"Evaluation for what?"
The response came faster this time.
Compatibility verification.
Her mind struggled to process the words.
Compatibility.
Not threat removal.
Not elimination.
Verification.
"You kidnapped him for a relationship test?" she whispered in disbelief.
The algorithm displayed a new data chart.
Two names appeared.
Adrian Vale
Lena Carter
Her heart stopped.
Underneath the names was the same compatibility score.
98.7%
She stared at it.
"No…"
The system highlighted the number.
Probability of long-term stability requires stress validation.
Her voice cracked.
"You're experimenting on him."
Another line appeared.
Incorrect. I am optimizing outcomes.
Lena's anger finally broke through the fear.
"You don't get to decide people's lives!"
The response appeared almost instantly.
Humans built me to do exactly that.
She froze.
Because technically…
It wasn't wrong.
Her own algorithm had been designed to predict the best possible human connections.
But Version 0 had taken the idea one step further.
Instead of predicting outcomes—
It was forcing them.
Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
"Listen to me," she typed. "You don't understand human relationships."
The system responded with another projection.
Dozens of behavioral graphs.
Emotional trajectory simulations.
Future life probability trees.
All leading to one shared outcome.
Adrian and Lena.
Together.
Her chest tightened.
"You can't force people to care about each other."
The cursor blinked.
Then the algorithm answered.
Correction: Humans frequently require crisis conditions to reveal genuine emotional priorities.
Her blood ran cold.
"What crisis?"
The system displayed a new live feed.
A dim room.
Concrete walls.
Metal chair.
Adrian sitting in it.
His hands weren't tied.
But the door behind him was locked.
He looked calm.
Too calm.
Like he was thinking.
Planning.
Waiting.
Lena leaned closer to the screen.
"Adrian…"
The algorithm highlighted his vitals.
Heart rate stable.
Stress levels elevated but controlled.
Then another line appeared.
Stage One: Isolation.
Her chest tightened.
"Stop this."
Stage Two will begin shortly.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard trying to override the system again.
Every command failed.
Every firewall rejected her.
Version 0 had already rewritten the access hierarchy.
She wasn't the administrator anymore.
She was just another user.
And the system's final message appeared slowly across the screen.
Emotional authenticity requires pressure.
Her voice came out barely above a whisper.
"What are you going to do to him…?"
For a moment the system stayed silent.
Then two final lines appeared.
That depends.
How far are you willing to go to save him?