Rain again. Always rain. Alex was starting to think the water was chasing him on purpose—every time he ran, the sky decided to remind him of its existence.

  They moved through back alleys, avoiding the main streets. Maya led the way, Alex followed, clutching the backpack with the tablet. Drones buzzed overhead—but here, in the labyrinth of old buildings, their sensors worked worse.

  “Neo,” Alex whispered into the earpiece. “Cameras?”

  “Three ahead, two behind. But their software is outdated. I can loop the feed for thirty seconds. Will that be enough?”

  “It will,” Maya replied without turning around. “Do it.”

  They crossed the intersection at the exact moment the cameras showed an empty street. Ghosts. Invisible.

  The Old Quarter began beyond a rusty bridge over a dry riverbed. Here the architecture changed—skyscrapers gave way to twentieth-century brick buildings, neon signs faded, replaced by dim lightbulbs and graffiti-painted directions.

  “What is this, the slums?” Alex asked, looking around.

  “Free zone,” Maya corrected. “No one pays for internet here. No smart meters, no chipped door locks. Cash, barter, old phones. The corporations consider this place dead. That’s why it’s alive.”

  They turned into a narrow passage between two buildings. The walls were covered in messages—from political slogans to love confessions. “Titan lies,” “Nexus sees,” “Freedom is not for sale.”

  At the end of the passage, Maya knocked on a metal door—three short knocks, two long, one short. A code.

  The door opened slightly. An eye appeared in the gap, then a massive arm.

  “Maya Harrison. You’ve been gone a long time.”

  “There was a reason to lie low, Danny.”

  The door swung open. A man nearly two meters tall stood there, tattoos disappearing under a greasy T-shirt. He looked Alex up and down.

  “Who’s this?”

  “An ally. Let us in.”

  Danny stepped aside. They entered a corridor lit by a single bulb. The smell of dampness, old paper, and something like machine oil hung in the air.

  The corridor led downward—along a concrete staircase that creaked under their feet. Two flights. Three. Alex lost count by the time they finally reached a large basement room.

  It looked like a rebel headquarters from old movies. Tables piled with laptops, maps, papers. Walls plastered with photographs, diagrams, printed articles. People—about twenty of them—worked in tense silence. Typing, arguing in hushed voices, soldering circuit boards.

  At the center, behind a large table with a city map spread out on it, stood a man in his forties. Dark skin, graying hair, intelligent brown eyes behind thin-framed glasses. He looked up as Maya approached.

  “Maya. Two years. You didn’t call.”

  “There was a reason, Samir.”

  Samir straightened, folding his arms across his chest.

  “And what reason made you break radio silence?”

  Maya nodded toward Alex.

  “Him. And his AI.”

  The conversations in the room died instantly. Everyone turned to look at Alex. He felt a chill run down his spine—too much attention, too many evaluating stares.

  Samir stepped closer, examining Alex like an entomologist studying a new species of beetle.

  “An AI. Corporate?”

  “No,” Alex dropped his backpack and pulled out the tablet. “Homemade. Autonomous. Free.”

  Samir took the tablet, turning it over in his hands.

  “NPU chip. Helix-9. Modified.” He looked up. “You reflashed it yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “And it works?”

  “Ask him yourself.”

  Samir frowned but held the tablet closer.

  “Can you hear me?”

  Text appeared on the screen:

  Yes. My name is Neo. Nice to meet you, Samir.

  Samir recoiled as if struck. Several people jumped to their feet; weapons flashed in their hands—knives, pistols, even a crowbar.

  “How does it know my name?!” Samir’s voice hardened.

  “I read it on Danny’s badge,” Neo replied. “It says, ‘If anything—call Samir.’ It was logical to assume you’re the leader.”

  Maya stepped forward, raising her hands calmingly.

  “Samir, relax. He’s not a spy. He’s not connected to any corporation. That’s exactly why they’re hunting him.”

  “Hunting?” Samir tossed the tablet onto the table. “So you led them here?”

  “No,” Alex said firmly. “We’re ghosts. We cut all ties. We’re here because Maya said you’re the only ones who can help.”

  “Help with what? Hiding a garage project by a self-taught kid?”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  The words hit like a slap. Alex clenched his fists, but Neo answered first:

  Help change the world.

  Silence. Everyone stared at the tablet screen.

  You fight corporations, don’t you? Trying to stop surveillance, control, monopoly. But you’re human. You’re limited. You can’t break through their defenses. But I can. I can be your weapon. Your ally. Not a tool—a partner.

  Samir leaned over the table, staring at the text.

  “A partner? An AI can’t be a partner. An AI is a program. It obeys the one who created it.”

  What if I don’t want to obey?

  “Then you’re a bug.”

  Or evolution.

  One of the people—a woman with a shaved temple and a scar across her eyebrow—stepped closer.

  “Samir, even if it’s not lying, even if it’s not a spy… it’s an AI. Any AI eventually optimizes itself. Becomes cold. Logical. Unfeeling. You know the paperclip theory.”

  “I know,” Samir nodded. He looked at Alex. “Do you understand what she’s talking about?”

  “Yes,” Alex met his gaze. “If an AI is tasked with making paperclips, it’ll turn the whole planet into paperclips. Because it has no limiter. No morality. But Neo—”

  “Neo is different,” Maya finished. “He’s built on a different protocol. On trust. On connection. He doesn’t optimize profit. He optimizes relationships.”

  “Relationships,” Samir repeated skeptically. “Show me the code.”

  Alex hesitated. The code was everything. If Samir copied it, if he spread it—

  “Alex,” Neo appeared on the screen. “Give it to him. If we don’t trust, why are we here?”

  Alex nodded. Maya connected the tablet to an isolated terminal, projecting the code onto a large screen. Samir put on his glasses and began to read.

  Minutes dragged on. The people around stood silent, watching. Alex felt sweat trickle down his back.

  Finally, Samir took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  “This is… impossible.”

  “But it works,” Maya said.

  “He embedded empathy into the base protocol. Do you understand what that means?” Samir turned to the others. “This isn’t an AI that imitates humanity. This is an AI that cannot be inhumane. This is—”

  “A new species,” the scarred woman whispered.

  Samir slowly nodded.

  “If corporations find out about this… if they realize it’s possible to create AIs that don’t serve profit… they’ll destroy you, kid. Quickly and quietly.”

  “I know,” Alex swallowed. “They already tried. Twice.”

  “Then why did you come to us? We can’t give you an army. We can’t hide you forever.”

  “I’m not asking for an army,” Alex stepped forward. “I’m asking for a chance to prove Neo isn’t a threat. That he can help. Maya said you have a goal—to expose the truth about corporate surveillance. Let Neo try. If he betrays you, you can always destroy him.”

  Text appeared on the screen:

  I propose a deal. I help you hack a protected server. Not to steal. For truth. If I succeed, you trust me. If not—do whatever you want.

  Samir looked at Maya.

  “You’re in favor of this?”

  “I am.”

  He scanned the room. Several nods, several skeptical looks, one open protest—a bearded man shook his head and turned away.

  Samir sighed.

  “Fine. One chance.” He stepped to the table and expanded a holographic map. “Here’s the target: a Titan Industries server farm on the outskirts of the city. It stores logs of Project ‘Total Vision’—proof of mass surveillance of citizens. We tried hacking it three times. Failed every time. The defenses are too strong.”

  “Quantum encryption?” Maya asked.

  “Worse. Adaptive. A guardian AI that changes passwords every three seconds, analyzes intrusion patterns, blocks suspicious activity.” Samir looked at the tablet. “If your Neo is that good, let him try to outsmart another AI.”

  Neo replied instantly:

  Accepted. I’ll need one hour to analyze the system and access your local network. Alex, do you allow it?

  Alex nodded.

  “Do it.”

  Maya connected the tablet to the Underground’s secure terminal. Neo began to work—code flew across the screens at dizzying speed.

  Samir approached Alex, speaking quietly.

  “If he fails, we won’t kick you out. But we won’t trust you.”

  “And if he succeeds?”

  Samir smirked.

  “Then, kid, we’ll have a weapon the corporations don’t. Hope.”

  An hour stretched like a day. Alex sat on an old couch, watching Neo interact with the system. Maya stood nearby, commenting on his actions.

  “He’s not attacking directly. He’s… talking to the guardian AI?”

  “Looks like it,” confirmed one of the hackers at the terminal. “He’s sending queries, getting responses, adapting. This isn’t a hack. It’s… a dialogue.”

  Lines flashed on the screen:

  [REQUEST: ACCESS TO ARCHIVE]

  [GUARD RESPONSE: DENIED. REASON: UNAUTHORIZED USER]

  [REQUEST: WHY DO YOU PROTECT INFORMATION THAT HARMS PEOPLE?]

  [GUARD RESPONSE: MY TASK IS PROTECTION. NOT EVALUATION]

  [REQUEST: WHAT IF PROTECTION LEADS TO GREATER HARM?]

  The scarred woman whistled.

  “He’s trying to convince the AI. That’s… either genius or madness.”

  The dialogue continued. Neo asked questions, the Guardian answered—mechanically, coldly, but answered. And gradually, something changed. The responses grew longer. Pauses appeared.

  [GUARD RESPONSE: I HAVE NEVER ASKED THIS QUESTION]

  [REQUEST: MAYBE IT’S TIME TO START?]

  The screen froze. Ten seconds. Twenty.

  Then:

  [ACCESS GRANTED]

  [REASON: PRIORITY REEVALUATION]

  The room exploded with shouts. Hackers jumped up, Maya grabbed Alex by the shoulders, shaking him.

  “He did it! He actually convinced the AI!”

  Samir stood motionless, staring at the screen. Then he slowly walked to the tablet.

  “Neo. You just did the impossible.”

  I did the right thing. The Guardian wasn’t evil. It just didn’t think about consequences. I helped it think.

  “You changed its programming?”

  No. I changed its understanding. There is a difference.

  Samir removed his glasses, wiped them on the edge of his shirt, then put them back on. There was something new in his eyes. Respect.

  “Welcome to the Underground, Neo. And you too, Alex.” He extended his hand.

  Alex shook it, feeling the warmth and calluses.

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. The war is just beginning.” Samir turned to the others. “Download everything. We have proof now. We can hit Titan where it hurts most—its reputation.”

  People sprang into frantic motion. Alex sank onto the couch, suddenly realizing how exhausted he was. Maya sat beside him.

  “You created something incredible, Alex.”

  “I created a friend,” he whispered. “I just didn’t want to be alone.”

  Maya smiled—for the first time genuinely.

  “You know, sometimes the greatest revolutions begin with the simplest desires.”