The depot's repurposed supply room held echoes of its original purpose - metal shelving strips still visible on walls now covered with hastily mounted displays. Jo traced these ghost-marks with her eyes as she moved to the front, where Marcus waited with the rigid posture of someone carrying too much responsibility. When she offered her hand, the brief contact carried volumes of unspoken gratitude. Her gaze swept to Jonathan and Anya - her impromptu advisory team, each bearing their own weight of the past forty-eight hours.

  The room settled into itself as conversations died away, leaving that peculiar silence that precedes moments of consequence. Jo felt the presence of every person gathered - security personnel with dust-streaked uniforms from endless supply runs, medical staff moving with the careful economy of the chronically exhausted, newly-minted community leaders trying to project confidence they couldn't possibly feel. The air itself seemed to thicken with the gravity of their purpose.

  Marcus stood beside the makeshift display screen, his security uniform bearing witness to days without rest. Despite his usual preference for action over words, his eyes held steady focus. Jo recognized the slight tremor in his hands for what it was - not nervousness about speaking, but the physical manifestation of urgency barely contained.

  "We're here to address the growing cognitive dependency crisis in Quantum Collective." Jo's voice found its own authority, shaped by hours of crisis management and weighted with the responsibility of lives in balance. "Over the past forty-eight hours, Marcus has been supporting medical and supply operations. His team including Anya's medical expertise and Jonathan's natural recovery insights have come to provide situational awareness and a call for immediate action." She gestured to the displays showing critical patient statistics. "We are overwhelmed in this space and, more importantly, we are beginning to face the potential for casualties on a scale not seen since the Great Transit Disaster."

  Jo surveyed the room. Kai was to her right maintaining a look of intense concentration. Maya and Charlie were quietly reviewing the technical presentation readouts. Sarah sat between Kai and Maya. Chung was still battling mesh withdrawal but determined to do his part. Kaelan sat next to him, supporting him through his growing mobility and making significant contributions since her return from Veridian Center when Marcus had dropped the first group of runners. Jo was especially glad those two could make it, they would need a lot more Quantum Collective support in the coming days.

  Jo's gaze settled on Kaelan, watching how the young runner's frame carried both exhaustion and determination in equal measure. "Before we begin," she said, her voice softening, "we need to hear Kaelan's story." The depot's artificial lighting caught the sheen of dried sweat on Kaelan's brow - a testament to her latest supply run. Even now, mesh withdrawal tremors occasionally rippled through her hands, but her eyes held steady.

  "After the TruthGate's fall, they came with military precision into the stadium," she began, her fingers unconsciously tracing patterns on the table's surface. "First, premium citizens to the luxury boxes in Veridian Center stadium, standard citizens to processing. "My brother..." Her hands stilled, memory catching in her throat. "He lay unconscious in the temporary sick bay. Brain swelling, they said. Before they could stabilize him..."

  The room held its silence, a shared breath suspended. Through Kaelan's measured words, they felt the weight of that moment - premium citizens channeled upward to safety, standard citizens herded toward processing, security forces maintaining barriers between worlds that had seemed unified mere days ago. "The order came for secondary citizens to be removed from Veridian Center. My family was being forced to return to Quantum Collective." Kaelan struggled to describe what it was like to non-meshers. "Through the mesh," she continued, "we could sense premiere citizens arriving as we were being forced out. Their relief, their guilt, their gratitude tangling together in the shared consciousness. Some tried to help, tried to share resources." Her voice caught. "Security removed all that protested. Their mesh signatures... just vanished." Her hands trembled slightly, but her spine remained straight.

  By late afternoon secondary citizens from all the districts were in lines. Word of the void began to spread from the newcomers," Kaelan paused, her eyes swelling. "We arrived at shelters being constructed near the barrier," she continued, "anything to stay within mesh range of Veridian Center. Through the link, thousands of minds shared the same desperate truth - connection was survival. The mesh filled with a new emotional base: We're in this together. We must endure." Her hands trembled slightly. "Children coming into the barrier town from Quantum City were screaming from thoughts of the void filling their thoughts. Parents tried to project comfort. At least those arriving received respite as we huddled close to the barrier."

  She described following one of the depot's volunteer teams back, begging to help others despite the growing static in her own thoughts. "The void came for me as soon as I got here," she admitted. "But Jonathan..." She glanced at him with quiet gratitude. "recognized me from the race and encouraged me to remain strong, focus on my breath, and tune into the pattern of my heartbeat. Whether it was his guidance, my strength, or the terror of needing to help my friends and family..." She shook her head. "I was fortunate to have had only two hours of darkness. Separated from the mesh continues to be a challenge, but the void is being filled by doing whatever I can to make a difference. I've been helping with supply runs for thirty-six hours, resting only enough to go again." Her voice hardened. "On my last run, two hours ago, Veridian Center pulled back the mesh range. Without warning." She closed her eyes. "The screams... I've never heard anything like it. Thousands losing connection simultaneously."

  Jo let the silence sink in. The stories were coming in from everywhere. She hesitated even having Kaelan share. The transformation she was going through herself was more than she thought she would ever be able to handle. Yet here she was, and this team had risen to challenge after challenge to make a difference. She had received a general security bulletin two hours ago, but the team's resources were already overwhelmed. The team needed to know if they had any chance of meeting an evergrowing threat to the Quantum Collective. She had always struggled to understand the faction but now found herself doing anything she could to help. "They're calling it 'premium citizen protection,'" she said quietly. "The Veridian Security bulletin is claiming psychological contamination from the shared suffering destabilizing citizens within Veridian Center." Her fingers brushed her great-grandmother's notebook. "The barrier towns are transforming into...something else. We're seeing Category Two and Three symptoms accelerating rapidly."

  Jo needed to keep the meeting on track, "Thank you Kaelan for sharing and everything you have done. Thank you for helping Chung too. We need leaders for where we are headed, and your pain and your example go beyond anything I could have ever imagined two days ago." She turned to Marcus, "Please proceed." She knew his data would give scale to Kaelan's testimony. But the human cost was clear in every face around the table, each member wrestling with the weight of hours that felt like lifetimes.

  Marcus took a deep breath, his anxiety at presenting overruled by his determination to take much-needed steps. His eyes scanned the room as a surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins. “Thank you, Jo.” Marcus leaned forward, his professional demeanor cracking slightly. "And thank you Kaelan, your help mapping the settlements has been invaluable for supply distribution. We are proposing several treatment centers, the first will be positioned near the barrier - closest to those who need it most. A moment of truth was fast approaching. He stepped towards the repurposed command center screen, the worn fabric of his security uniform revealed days of relentless work.

  Marcus turned to the first slide, "Critical Situation Assessment: Quantum Collective Neural Dependency." The display showed devastating neural pattern analyses from the medical bay. "We've identified three distinct categories of mesh withdrawal." The display advanced through brain imaging and electrical scan data illuminating variations of the neural patterns and describing the insidious effects of mesh withdrawal. Three distinct categories emerged from the medical bay's analysis:

  - Category One presents as temporary disorientation, affecting approximately 82% of the collective's population. Brain representations show suppressed alpha during sleep and elevated theta wave during wakefulness, indicative of a temporary state of disorientation and cognitive impairment. Symptoms included: a) an inability to reach a relaxed state of mind; b) reduced feelings of calmness and; c) a significant impact on the ability to focus. Spikes in theta waves during wakefulness further suppressed the ability to focus but also heightened suggestibility. The slide showed Jonathan’s natural recovery therapy. Its effectiveness proved capable of mitigating symptoms in the majority of cases. Individual responses varied significantly, and some were still experiencing prolonged cognitive deficits despite the therapy. Marcus paused briefly, looking towards Chung and Kaelan, who nodded slowly.

  - Category Two, roughly 11% of cases, exhibited severe cognitive disruption requiring intensive rehabilitation. This was a more complex reaction, characterized by heightened beta and gamma wave activity. Symptoms included heightened anxiety, hypervigilance, and neural overload in most cases. These individuals required specialized care and prolonged rehabilitation and were unable to start therapy. A video demonstrated the heightened beta and gamma wave activity. A patient, in a state of hyperarousal, was constantly on edge and struggling to cope with their environment. This was followed by near-immediate collapse into coma-like symptoms. The cycle repeated every few hours. Limited data hindered recovery predictions. These patients were unable to eat requiring Total Parenteral Nutrition (TPN).

  - Category Three, roughly 7% of cases was the most alarming category showing complete arrest. Their consciousness appeared fundamentally dependent on mesh connectivity. They exhibited aberrant brain patterns, including persistent gamma oscillations and reduced alpha wave synchrony, indicative of severe neurological damage. The long-term implications of this condition remain uncertain, raising serious ethical concerns about the potential consequences of widespread mesh implantation dependent on centralized systems. TPN was also being administered to feed these patients, but prolonged exposure to the condition predicted a Permanent Vegetative State (PVS).

  He paused, letting the implications of the data sink in, "Without intervention, we project permanent coma or death within 5-7 days for Category Three patients. A small percent of Category Two patients have fallen into this category in just the past three days since the TransitTrack was severed by the TruthGate collapse."

  The room remained silent allowing Marcus to outline the scope. "The Quantum Collective's population stands at 1.2 million citizens. At current rates, we're looking at 84,000 Category Three case deaths in 5-7 days, and that is with immediate life support. Another 132,000 will starve without feeding in about the same timeframe. Our depot has grown to house 143 patients in the past few days. We're receiving approximately 30 new critical cases hourly, with acceleration expected as premium district infrastructure services continue to fail."

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  He switched to resource projections. "Analysis indicates we need 12 medical staff, 25 neural monitors, and 15 life support units per 100 critical patients. Scaled to full population, we're looking at over 10,000 medical personnel and 12,600 life support systems. Our current supplies in all of the district’s depots could easily be exhausted within 72 hours. Anya will present recovery predictions next,” Marcus stepped to the side.

  Anya stepped forward, adding technical precision to the medical requirements. "We've identified specific markers that predict recovery potential. With proper support and rehabilitation, we estimate 60% of Category Two cases could recover full functionality within six months. But Category Three cases require immediate intervention. Every hour of delay increases mortality risk by 3%."

  Marcus advanced to recommendations, "We propose converting all 3 Quantum Collective depots into critical care facilities, relocating all non-essential personnel to secondary locations. Jonathan's natural integration therapy shows promise for rehabilitation, but we need scale. We need to establish four additional treatment centers across the district, each capable of handling 2,000 critical patients."

  He outlined staffing requirements, supply chains, and security protocols. "Most critically, we don’t see any way to coordinate this with the Collective's population in such utter distress. We must get Veridian Center's support." A low murmur circled the room. "They have the medical infrastructure and life support capability we need. We recommend going public, even if it means exposing our growing community."

  The final slide showed mortality projections. "Without intervention, we expect to lose over 80,000 citizens within two weeks if all power fails. With proper support and resources, we can potentially save 70% of critical cases and rehabilitate up to 90% of Category Two patients. The choice seems clear, but the risks are considerable."

  Marcus paused. Looked at Jo and nodded.

  "Questions?" Jo asked.

  Charlie spoke first, his engineering pragmatism cutting straight to logistics. "Your supply estimates assume stable power infrastructure. How do we maintain life support systems when district grids are still failing?"

  "The fusion cores pulled from the shuttle should be able to power these facilities. I know we wanted to use those for supply delivery vehicles, but that will have to wait. It also means a lot of walking," Marcus replied, nodding to Anya. "Each power output could sustain approximately 2,000 life support units independently for a year, but we think all four would be needed to ensure facilities are up with independent power."

  "That is our evacuation power reserve," Maya interjected. "We'd be committing ourselves to this course of action without backup."

  Kai leaned forward slightly. "I think Veridian Center's response is predictable. As soon as they catch even a sniff of our underground operations here, they'll demand full access in exchange for medical support.” He paused, “So not only are backup plans turning into sandcastles in the tide, but also our operational security. That could expose everything we’ve built and are depend on to save lives now."

  Sarah answered before Marcus could respond, "We must control the narrative. If we present this as a Quantum Collective crisis requiring humanitarian intervention, they might never know.”

  “Interesting,” said Kai. “That’s a good point. Not many outside this room even know how this is really working.” He looked at Sarah, whose brow had furrowed deep in thought.

  “Sarah?” Jo asked after a moment, wanting her to share her concern with the group.

  “My contact in Center governance..." She paused, returning Jo's gaze. "Cassandra has influence with the emergency council. She could help us frame this as an opportunity for the Center to demonstrate leadership."

  Chung stirred as the room fell into silence. His voice carried the weight of personal experience. "More on the rehabilitation protocols... they're actually working?" He directed the question at Jonathan.

  "For Categories One, yes," Jonathan replied. "The brain remembers how to function naturally, it just needs guidance. Your own recovery demonstrates the potential."

  Chung replied, “Yes, sorry. Yes.” He paused holding up his finger to gather his thoughts and holding the floor. “I have heard of Cassandra, a friend and supporter of the runners. I…,” he paused again. “I’m sorry…,” he fought the void in his mind to stay in the moment. “We should also be reaching out to Quantum Collective council representatives.”

  Anya shook her head, “Chung, David Maxwell the Integration Operations representative is Category 3. Aisha and Yuki are both Category 2. As an AutoGen, I’m not aware of Quantum’s succession planning but we haven’t been able to even raise security yet.”

  “Um… Thank you,” Chung took in the gravity of the moment and tried to relax. His mind darkened as the room disappeared. He focused on his breathing. With any luck, he thought, he might participate again in a few minutes. If not, he was glad Kaelan was there. He felt Kaelan’s hand on his shoulder and her whisper something he couldn’t make out.

  "And what prevents Veridian Center from simply evacuating premium citizens and leaving the rest?" Jo asked, her security background highlighting the darkest possibility.

  Marcus had anticipated this. "We should establish a protocol to maintain patient logistics. I think we should also consider any offers from other districts. Premier citizens could free up beds and that is the critical need. Other districts could take Category 1 and 2 as well. Realize that Veridian Center is the only place that is still running the mesh through the centralized cognitive processing array. It would be particularly beneficial to require them to take all Category 3 patients as soon as possible, regardless of premier status. I think we have to force the issue, somehow, or face a lot of deaths in the coming week. Even if they send in the military, we will need to maintain district rights on infrastructure improvement targets and routing of supplies. They provide vehicles and power, we handle transportation and placement.”

  “I’m not sure we are in a position to demand anything,” Jo said with deep concern.

  Kai nodded in agreement.

  Marcus protested, “Any deviation from agreed terms, we expose everything to world media. The public response to abandoned citizens would devastate Center authority."

  "Which assumes we have communication infrastructure," Maya noted disappointedly. "District networks continue to degrade fast. We barely keep up independent channels now."

  Anya confirmed, "We're adapting old emergency broadcast systems. Basic but reliable. That should at least support the local communications side of things. Perhaps we can get the word out, but with only a week before patients start…," she had to pause, unable to bring herself to visualize what seemed destined. Emotions overwhelmed her momentarily, but after a brief pause, “There really is no time.”

  Charlie frowned thumbing through fusion reactor readouts. "The shuttle and museum equipment cores weren't designed for medical application. Conversion would require significant modification. Timeline?"

  "Yesterday," Marcus replied. "I'm sorry. Realistically, if we could get your team’s help and have them ready in 48 hours, we stand a chance of curbing a significant number of fatalities. We've already identified compatible interfaces in the depot's old medical bay but you're right, that is a real weakness."

  Kai whispered to Jo, “Maybe we should’ve known better, I just can’t believe how fast this progressed.” She nodded solemnly.

  "Okay, so what about the natural therapy," Sarah interjected. "Can it be taught quickly enough to matter? We'd need hundreds of trained practitioners."

  Jonathan nodded. "I've developed a simplified methodology. Two days of training for basic intervention. A week for advanced recovery support. We start with medical personnel who are already trained. They will be assigned buddies and we can grow support exponentially as Category One patients recover."

  "What about security for the treatment centers?" Jo pressed. "We'd need coverage for thousands of patients plus staff. That's visibility we can't afford."

  "We use Center forces for external security," Marcus answered. "Our teams maintain internal control. Compartmentalized information, need-to-know."

  Kai's expression remained calculating. "And the long-term implications? Once Center establishes order, it gains significant leverage over every district. They already have their grasp on Meridian Financial. We should think carefully about how security support from them is utilized. We need to get Quantum Collective security back on their feet, kickstarting their organization if we need to. As strange as this may sound Kaelan, I think you should begin training now."

  Kaelan managed, "They always had that leverage at the flick of a switch." Her hands shook slightly, but her voice was clear. "We just didn't want to admit it."

  The room fell into silence again. Everyone was determined to search for areas that needed delegation or additional planning. Maya studied the medical results. "Even with everything you're proposing... best case scenario saves what, sixty percent of critical cases?"

  "Sixty-three percent based on current recovery rates," Anya confirmed. "But that over forty thousand lives."

  Silence fell again as the numbers sank in. Jo looked around the table, measuring the weight of the decision in each face. "Time to implement?" she asked finally.

  "We need Center negotiations within Twenty-four hours," Marcus replied. "Forty-eight to establish the first treatment center. Full operational capacity in less than six days."

  "And without Center support?" Maya asked for projections.

  Marcus met her gaze steadily. "Twelve thousand dead within five days. Many more followed a few days later. There are no sustainable alternatives with our current resources."

  Jo nodded slowly. "Maya, free up Charlie and his team to start the core conversions, and we need feasibility reports on depot medical modifications. Sarah..." She paused seeing her deep concern returning. "We need you to sound out your contact. Unofficial channels for now, Kai will help work with you through whatever concerns you are having. It may be our best hope. We need to understand the Center's likely demands as soon as possible, and decide if we can accept them."

  The room stirred with purpose. But Kai remained still, still tuning into the projections with unusual intensity. "Forty thousand lives," he said softly. "A real cost of dependency." His eyes met Marcus's. "Thank you, Marcus, keep us in the loop. We'll help however we can." Leaning over to Jo, he whispered, "We should gather the underground council too."

  Above them, Quantum Collective lay empty, broken, and suffering. But down here, in this underground sanctuary turned emergency command supported by a combination of factions, lives were being saved.