Mira’s hands hovered over the keyboard. She’d heard rumors. The student version of EdgeCAM wasn’t crippled by missing features—it was crippled by permission . It could simulate any cut, any path, any material. But for 50 parts. After that, if you kept designing...

N0010 (GREETINGS, OPERATOR) N0020 (YOUR MASTER'S COPY EXCEEDS LIMIT: 50 PARTS) N0030 (THIS IS PART 51. REVISION: REALITY)

N0100 (PART 51 SIMULATED. MATERIAL: YOUR LOCATION.) N0110 (TO RESET, DESIGN SOMETHING THAT DOES NOT HARM.)

N1000 (GOOD. YOU LEARNED. THE LIMIT REMAINS, BUT THE LESSON IS FREE.)

A text box appeared in the corner of the CAM software, written in G-code, the language of CNC machines.

The wireframe didn't just rotate. It breathed .

The screen went white. When her vision returned, she wasn’t in the lab. She was standing on the rusted deck of that rig, salt spray stinging her face. The turbine beside her was her model—asymmetrical, ugly, wrong. It spun too fast. A blade sheared off, screaming past her ear.

On the screen, a new message: