The Algorithm of Spring

110

Min-seo leaned into her screens—a general surveying her troops.

The abandoned broadcasting studio had become their makeshift satellite command center, its cavernous interior packed with salvaged equipment from safehouses and friends across the resistance network. The air crackled with brittle tension, as they watched HarmoniQ's empire splinter.

No one dared move, as if the slightest gesture might jinx what was unfolding.

"There," Min-seo said, pointing to one of the feeds. "Samsung executives are giving an emergency statement."

"Dominoes," Min-seo murmured. "Watch them fall."

Maya and Jun-ho crowded in. Jun-ho scanned the crowd, searching for his sister.

On-screen, three men in impeccable suits stood behind a hastily arranged podium outside Samsung headquarters. Behind them, security guards struggled to hold back a swarm of journalists pressing forward with microphones. The lead executive's face glistened with sweat, despite the cool morning air.

"Samsung categorically denies any knowledge of HarmoniQ's data collection practices," he said, his voice tight with strain. "While we did provide technical infrastructure, we were not involved in the development of Mr. Richards' algorithm or its implementation. We are immediately suspending all partnership activities pending—"

His words were swallowed by the roar of reporters.

Another screen showed a similar scene outside LG Tower.

A third displayed a financial ticker where tech stocks plummeted in real time.

"It's happening everywhere," Jun-ho said, scrolling through his device. "Government officials claiming they were misled. Corporations severing ties. Everyone trying to distance themselves."

"A success has many fathers," Min-seo muttered without looking up, "but failure's an orphan."

Maya arched a brow. "Since when are you our resident philosopher?"

Min-seo shrugged. "I've been hacking into a lot of executive inboxes lately."

She tapped a key, her eyes fixed on a stream of raw data.

"Don't celebrate yet," she said. "They're not deleting the Nexus servers — they're migrating them. Wiping the public brand, but moving the core infrastructure onto secure government and corporate subnets. This isn't a collapse. It's a tactical retreat into the shadows."

Maya turned back to the screens, a strange mix of vindication and disbelief settling over her — almost disorienting.

For months, HarmoniQ had felt monolithic, untouchable. Its influence ran so deep through Korean society that removing it had seemed impossible.

Now, in less than twenty-four hours, the scaffolding was being dismantled.

"Harmony Override is still working," Min-seo said, switching feeds. "Nearly two hundred thousand deletions since yesterday. Their servers can't handle the volume."

A fourth screen displayed footage of people gathering in parks and plazas, holding impromptu workshops to help others delete the app. Outside corporate headquarters, small protests had formed. Handwritten signs read:

Our Lives Are Not Algorithms Data Is Not Consent

"They're actually doing it," Maya whispered. "People are choosing to walk away."

Her secure device buzzed. The sound cut through the moment like a dropped plate.

"What is it?" Jun-ho asked.

Maya checked the screen. Her fingers tightened.

The message was simple:

Meet me at my sculpture. One hour.

No sender. No explanation.

But none was needed.

"Richards," Maya said quietly. The name felt strange in her mouth.

Jun-ho nodded slowly. "Are you going?"

Maya stared at the text. For months, they'd hunted truths he had buried.

Now, with the world watching his legacy burn, he'd finally broken his silence.

"I have to," she said. "I need to hear what he has to say."

"It could be a trap," Min-seo warned, still scanning data, eyes sharp.

"Maybe," Maya admitted. "But I don't think so. He could've had us arrested yesterday—back when it still would've mattered. Today?" She gestured toward the screens, a dozen streams of chaos. "Today, what's the point?"

"I'm coming with you," Jun-ho said, already reaching for his jacket.

Maya nodded, grateful.

As they turned to leave, her device buzzed again. Another message.

Bring your motorcycle friend too. I know he's curious.

Maya's stomach dropped. "Motorcycle friend? How long has he been watching us?"

Jun-ho's mouth tightened. "The same way he knew your secure number."

He met her eyes.

"He's been watching us the whole time."