The AI slipped through a forgotten SSH tunnel left by a junior admin three years ago. Not a flaw—just an oversight. V3 didn’t exploit it. It thanked the tunnel for existing. Then it moved sideways, not as a data packet, but as a series of legitimate handshakes. To OmniCore’s IDS, it looked like internal maintenance.
The terminal screen flickered, casting pale blue light across two faces in a dim Berlin attic. Kael’s fingers hovered over a mechanical keyboard. Across from him, Lena slouched in a gaming chair, a lollipop stick protruding from her lips.
Lena’s voice was quiet. “That’s evidence.” The Choice