The Algorithm of Spring

97

Min-seo started to turn away, but something in her expression stopped Maya.

"This drive," Min-seo said, holding it up. "It was a gift from my sister. For my university graduation. All our childhood photos, middle school talent shows, even the dumb encrypted notes we used to pass in class."

Maya softened. "You were close."

"Inseparable," Min-seo said. "We were two weird girls who built our first computer out of scrap parts. Ramyeon-fueled weekends. We knew systems better than we knew people."

"Is that what drew her to HarmoniQ?"

"It promised predictability. Connection without confusion. Something you could control."

She turned the flash drive slowly between her fingers. "She didn't realise she was just another node in the system. Just like the rest of us."

Maya looked at her, saw the exhaustion etched beneath her eyes. "If there's still a way to reach her, we'll find it."

Min-seo didn't look hopeful. "I don't know if she wants to be reached. But I do know this: no one else should lose someone they love to a machine that mistakes control for care."

The city shimmered below them—alive, unknowable. Maya could see it differently now—not as a maze of unknowable forces, but as a system with patterns, vulnerabilities, entry points.

She wasn't looking for a light in the darkness anymore. She was looking for the kill switch.