The Algorithm of Spring

55

She walked until the streets thinned and the Apgujeong glow peeled away. By the time the river came into view, the night felt cooler, quieter—hers again.

Jun-ho's motorcycle was parked in their usual spot, its rider leaning against the rail. As Maya approached, her dress caught the breeze, boots thudding softly on the concrete.

"You clean up alright," he said with a smile.

She passed him his jacket, settling beside him.

The river moved below—dark, constant. Boats drifted by, their party lights flickering and fleeting. From here, Seoul felt distant. Almost honest.

"How bad was the party?" he asked.

"Su-jin's working in a cash-only bookstore. Living with her grandmother. Thinking about Japan." Maya stared out at the water. "Ji-young knows something's happening. She offered to help."

"And?"

"Some bridges, once burned, you can't rebuild," she said.

Jun-ho sighed. "Min-seo just sent the first analysis from the drive. It's... it's worse than we thought."

Maya turned to him, wary. "What is it?"

"It's a list," he said, his voice grim. "Hundreds of them. Case files. Dr. Park wasn't exaggerating. They're tracking reproductive cycles, logging overseas medical procedures, and flagging women based on 'non-compliant' social media posts. They're building psychological profiles of anyone who might disrupt their long-term projections."

Her fingers tightened on the railing. "They obviously know about me. That's why they're toying with me—these restrictions, these alerts. I wish they'd just get it over with."

She laughed once, dry. "Strip everything away so I can see what's left."

Jun-ho said nothing.

Maya looked out at the city. So many lights. So many screens. So many people smiling into their own surveillance.

"I keep thinking—do you know how hard it is to get someone to see something they don't want to see?" Her voice dropped, bitter. "Or worse—something their job, or their relationship, depends on them not seeing?"

Still, he didn't speak.

"Even if we could get the information in front of people... they won't believe it, even if we show them everything — the logs, the footage, the truth—they'll call it speculative. Paranoid. Say I'm unhinged."

She stared out at the water, her voice thinning.

"How would we even make them understand it?

Let alone believe it?"

The Han whispered beneath them, patient as time. Maya watched the water shift, as if the current might carry an answer toward her. Jun-ho searched her face, hoping she'd find peace—even in the unraveling.

In the apartment towers above them, the city shimmered, too pristine to touch.

Below, the systems kept turning.

Tomorrow would bring new warnings.

New restrictions.

Another inch lost.

But tonight, Maya stood at the edge of all of it.

Behind her eyes, an idea was forming.

Not protest or panic — something else.

A way to make people see what they refused to look at.