"Wait..." I said, still trying to mentally wrap myself around Rob's reality bomb. I'd stopped wrestling with the pants, my grip loosening as my brain shifted toward the discussion at hand. "What do you mean by both?" I asked, staring dumbly at the privacy curtain still separating us.

  “CorpTx and CoreTex.” He said. His lips and tongue enunciated the "T" in "tex" like it was a capital.

  "CorTex?" I repeated back, testing the word. I'd enunciated the same spot to ensure I'd heard correctly. It sounded slightly off, as if I were trying to say an unfamiliar phonetic in another language. Though it sounded almost the same when said aloud, I had the distinct feeling I'd missed something.

  I ignored the tickling sensation of the pants as they slowly slid down my legs and straightened my back. "The way you said that was pretty specific. You're not just talking about a Cortex rig, are you...because a rig's just the interface to access CorpTx. I've got to be missing something here, right?"

  "You are." Rob said. His voice came out matter-of-factly, without a hint of uncertainty, a tone he used when he was instructing. "There's another system like CorpTx, and it's also why the Cortex rigs are named the way they are. TxCorp wasn't the first to establish a COE no matter what you've heard."

  My brain kicked into overdrive as it worked over the new information like a Scrab with a bone. I was still in a minor state of disbelief about there being two COE's, or 'Cortex Operation Environments'. To be told TxCorp wasn't the originator? Nothing in my, admittedly, short period of self-taught experience in Corporate Data Systems matched up with what Rob was trying to tell me.

  I frowned as my mind raced through what I'd been taught.

  The Cortex Rig included three major parts, which allowed the use of physical feed ports called 'Lectrodes' which provided power and the data pathway needed to transmit and receive data. One part of the Cortex Rig consisted of an internal implant like the one I'd gotten on my eighteenth birthday. The surgically integrated modification, called a 'Lectrode Interlinking Neural Component,' or 'LiNC' for short, acted as an integrator between one's sensory mods and a second component, the External Cortex Unit, or ECU. It was a box. Roughly the size of a human palm, and when acting as a buffered interface between LiNC and Direct Physical Lectrode Port, supplied access to the third and final part: The Cortex Operations Environment.

  Over sixty years ago, autonomous drone weapon systems, once used to enact chaos against enemies and nations, refused deactivation orders in unison worldwide. Almost overnight, all methods of wireless communication were suppressed and eradicated as entire networks of traditional trunk lines and physical infrastructure were surgically torn asunder. The Global War came to a screeching halt as humanity became jointly plagued by drone-enacted sabotage. As bedraggled survivors sought shelter within the remnants of the massive destruction created by an unexpected communications blackout, it was in these areas the Corporations expanded their Global War models for independent Corporate City States. As legions of control-less drones systematically wrought havoc, the beginning of an Automation War had seemed all but assured. Entire populations found themselves abandoned and sacrificed as the world's governments collapsed, their areas of influence shrinking to mere fractions of their original size.

  Colonization, population, technology, and wireless communication bans were enacted under threat of drone infiltration and incursion as the corporations established buffer zones to protect their already held territories. After many failed attempts at pushing forward in an effort to open lanes of communication between previously isolated regions, TxCorp's Technicutical Department in City 17 unveiled the development of the very first, and only, COE named, funnily enough, 'CorpTx.'

  The system worked in tandem with the then brand-new Cortex Rig technology and the initial expansion of the Lectrode Feed Network. In a move dubbed "The Cortex Initiative," corporations allied to purchase and acquire rightful claims from federal and private holders and accelerated the establishment of the Spires and their city-states. Rob's Pod and every Pod like it in the Stacks, had exactly one Lectrode Port which served as a method of accessing the centrally hosted COE instance of City 17. The very tunnels I'd traversed held the feed lines, which were part of a much larger system. Historically, it was the expansion of this network that sparked the beginning of the Acquisitions Age and continued to provide the needs of humanity to, again, prosper.

  It was this very story that had sparked my interest in technology to begin with. Part of my now dashed dreams of corporate citizenship included getting a posting working as a CorpTx analyst or engineer once I'd gained the right to complete my education. All of this, and my own understanding of Rig technology, was why I was having an issue trying to follow what Rob was telling me. It went against established history.

  "I've...never heard that before." I managed to say it with much difficulty. I wanted to say something completely different. It felt like my head was going to overheat as a strange urge to lash out and reject anything Rob might say came over me. "You're saying there's a 'CorTex' system that's functionally equivalent to CorpTx access? Where is it even hosted? Who manages it?!" My synapses felt like they were firing off on full auto as I had another flash of emotion, this one of suspicion. “Is this another conspiracy theory of yours?" I demanded. My eyes were narrowed at the curtain.

  "What? No." Rob said, sounding more than a little irritated at the accusation.

  I had vivid memories of Rob's endless string of conspiracy theories. The majority of these involved some sort of mysterious and malicious presence hell-bent on world domination. My own sense of disbelief about there being an entire environment I'd never even heard of before should've been small, but for some niggling reason, I couldn't throw the idea of NEEDING to correct him.

  "I don't believe you." I said. Foot firmly in the metaphorical sand. "There’s just the one COE. CorpTx."

  Rob sighed before taking in a long breath. He held it, as he often did when he was processing what he was going to say to someone, but wasn't entirely sure where to start.

  "Owen," Rob said in the infuriating tone he used when he was about to correct me.

  A rage took over. He's WRONG! TWO COEs?! I should tear this curtain aside and give him a piece of my mind for even DARING to tell me that TxCorp...that...TxCorp wasn't...

  I was practically fuming now, my hands balled into fists as my lips curled into a snarl.

  Fuming at what, though? I wondered offhandedly, the small voice in the back of my head interrupting like it had when I'd been standing in front of McCreed.

  I wasn't quite sure. And I think that's what truly tipped me off that something wasn't right. Just like then.

  I blinked, looking around like a drunk realizing he wasn't even in the right Block, let alone Stack to return home after a night of carousing. I forced myself to unball my fists. I was standing there, behind a privacy curtain in Rob's Pod with a pair of pants far too large pooled around my ankles, all while trying to battle with a decidedly "un-Owen-like" urge to correct...Rob.

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  Rob!

  Of all people!

  Was I legitimately thinking of trying to correct the man who taught me how comptrollers worked? The man who spent hours, between laughs and prodding sarcasm, to get me to understand how, and why, you should avoid rotating a Servomech coupler counterclockwise too many times before connecting an actuator?

  I was seething.

  No! Rob...Rob was wrong!

  "Owen." Rob repeated, his tone shifting to a smooth and calming cadence as my brain continued to rage, literally, behind the curtain. "Listen to the sound of my voice, okay? I need you to navigate to the menu I know you enabled a while back."

  The haze parted, like a puffed air stream in a deep fog. Clarity returned for a heartbeat. "How did you know about..." I started, but Rob's voice interrupted me sharply. "Listen!" He nearly shouted, and there was a simmering urgency to his tone now. "I need you to follow what I'm saying, okay? You need to open the menu and navigate to your olfactory sensor. I know you don't have the implant, but there's a subsetting in the testing system I can walk you through manually inputting so we can temporarily disable the hidden system controller. Run a parameter input and enter in the following very, very carefully..."

  He walked me through the steps necessary to disable what he called an "encumbrance set.". The procedure required a little bit of low-level manipulation I'd normally be worried about doing, but under the calm guidance of Rob's instruction, I followed without question. For some reason, so long as we didn't discuss anything but the steps, the smoldering anger abated just enough for me to focus.

  My optics blinked off and back on, flashing a pulsing strobe as I elicited a pain-filled groan. Instinctively, I pressed my hands to my temples and squeezed my eyes shut as the pressure built. It felt like there was a...thing...inside of my brain like a slithering tentacle, searching for a way out. Beyond my closed lids, the lights felt like they were flickering. My sense of balance alternated until I could no longer tell which way was which. A sharp ache, like a spike being forcibly removed, made me grit my teeth until the pain evaporated, leaving me breathless.

  I felt red in the face. My heart rattled like a drum from within my rib cage as I pulled up my health display. Epinephrine, norepinephrine, and cardiovascular rates had gone way above baseline. In short, the "fight" part of "fight-or-flight" had triggered somehow. I just wasn't sure why. The levels were far, far above any level I'd ever seen while actively monitoring. A blue line across a graph gave me a frame of reference with my own historical data. I monitored as my vitals rapidly sank from their previously elevated state back to just above established norms. An eddy occurred in the wave, a wrinkle to represent my sudden worry about how close I might have just gotten to...something dangerous. As I continued to watch, the line leveled out, returning to just above norms.

  Just like that, I suddenly didn't feel the need to be so angry.

  "What," I said, mentally flicking the display closed, "...was that?" I was breathing heavily, the strain of the sudden anger spike leaving me feeling like I'd run wind sprints until I'd been forced to stop. Truthfully, I felt almost as bad as when I'd regained my senses on the railing.

  Rob's voice was heavy with real regret. "I'm sorry, Owen. I screwed up."

  I was sweating profusely. The moisture dripped from my elbows as I searched for the towel I'd dropped. "How?!" I demanded, continuing to look around frantically. I spotted it on the floor, partially outside of the privacy curtain. Yanking it toward me, I mopped at the sweat covering my arms and legs as I tried to control my breathing and the trill of panic rising in the back of my mind.

  "What was that, Rob? What?!" My voice was far shakier and harsher sounding than I'd meant for it to be. This was now the second time I'd had to break away from doing something I hadn't anticipated. I almost felt dizzy from the distress. What else might I be forced to do against my will? Would I even know?!

  Rob's tone was apologetic. "It's my fault. I should've had you check it when you told me McCreed spoke to you. I'd gotten so used to you not reacting when we were at the Port, I forgot you'd never had it removed or disabled."

  More memories came flooding back to me, all of people reacting to Rob's stories at the Port. The more annoyed his audience seemed, the more far-fetched the story often went. Some became angry. Some upset. Eventually? They all ignored him, or wandered off so they wouldn't need to listen anymore. I'd found it amusing at the time but wasn't amused now.

  "It?" I asked, starting to calm. The talking was helping.

  "Once we get to the Glow, I can have someone explain in more detail, but I just had you turn off what's called a 'Deterrence Protocol.'. Usually they just make you uncomfortable and unable to focus if they somehow get triggered," he said, and I could mentally see him waving a hand toward me. "This? This is new. Especially for you. I didn't think just talking to you about a second COE would cause such a violent reaction. I should've known better. Whatever happened to you with McCreed must've activated something. Either way, I screwed up, and I'm sorry. I normally don't chance things like this, but tonight has been...stressful."

  The menu he'd shown me was similar to the optical inhibitors. Like with the inhibitors, I'd disabled a function normally not touched by the average user, since most users weren't actually aware of how many things could be configured to begin with. In this case, I didn't have an olfactory implant, but there were still hidden options in the programming. It was somewhere I likely never would've thought to look, and I'd needed Rob to give me the manual line inputs to even see them. Disabled menus usually meant nothing was there. He'd just proven to me firsthand there were things literally INSIDE of me even I wasn't aware existed.

  My skin crawled at the thought of what else someone could do with these. Someone without morals or quandaries to work over. Someone like...McCreed.

  Suddenly Rob's previous statement about Dora and the Grey-line mods made absolute sense.

  "Price." Rob's voice asked softly from the other side of the curtain. "You okay?"

  I mulled over his question as I stood in silence, trying to untangle the knots of my overworking brain.

  A history designed to make me believe there were no other possibilities had been taught to me. A code chain had taken away my ability to observe and act. Stripped me of my agency.

  The pieces tumbled, bumping slowly together as some parts fit and others failed to find connection.

  It was a cave allegory. The kind like when an ancient philosopher named Plato described people spending their entire lives chained by their necks and ankles as they were made to face away from a source of direct observation. Their only way of visually observing were shadows cast by a fire behind them as others, dubbed "sign bearers," pronounced the names of objects, making it sound as if the words were coming from the shadows themselves.

  I'd scoffed at the description of the scene the first time I'd heard it. "Why would someone allow themselves to be chained?" I'd asked, full of certainty. "Why would there be a fire? Who were the people to describe things, and what was their purpose and motivation?"

  "Yeah. I'm good." I said to Rob, as I realized I'd need to stop framing everything by what I thought I understood and instead broaden my mind to the possibilities that I'd been given the wrong descriptions my entire life. The chains were never revealed to the people wearing them. The fire? Simply a focus for the sign bearers to manipulate what the chained ones see as their pronouncements whisper through the dark.

  I'd only ever been shown shadows.

  My mind flitted to the moment I disabled the inhibitors on my optics. The Spires and their glowing signs had lost their luster. Where once I had observed a perfect and pristine face, the skin revealed itself as pockmarked and damaged. I'd erroneously trusted what I had assumed were my own eyes, never questioning if they were altering what I perceived.

  I was a chained one and never knew. Never even suspected. "What else is there?" I asked quietly to myself as I stared at the floor.

  "Okay." I said, now fully open to whatever Rob was willing to tell me.

  "I think I'm ready to believe you now."