Helena Voss sat alone in her private boratory, the soft blue glow of holographic dispys illuminating her elegant features. She brushed a strand of golden hair from her face as she studied the test neural pattern analysis from Project Chrysalis. The b was her sanctuary within the sprawling Helix Pharmaceuticals complex, a pce where even her husband couldn't monitor her every move.

  On the main screen, two nearly identical neural mapping patterns pulsed in synchronized rhythm. One beled "E.K." glowed with a slightly dimmer intensity than the one beled "L7." Helena's fingers traced the pattern of her twin sister's neural signature, something she had memorized over countless hours of study.

  "Five years, Era," she whispered to the empty room. "Five years since you gave everything for this."

  The door chimed softly, interrupting her reverie. Helena quickly switched the dispy to a routine medical report as Marcus Voss entered the boratory. Even after decades of marriage, Marcus commanded attention—tall and imposing with perfectly groomed blond hair and piercing blue eyes that calcuted the value of everything they saw.

  "Working te again, Helena?" His voice carried the practiced warmth he used for public appearances, but she recognized the undercurrent of suspicion. "The boys were disappointed you missed dinner."

  Helena felt a familiar pang of guilt. Alexander and Elijah were only five, too young to understand why their mother's work consumed so much of her time.

  "I'm sorry, Marcus. The Phase Three trials couldn't wait." She gestured to the fabricated medical report on her screen. "We're making breakthroughs that could revolutionize neural interface technology."

  Marcus pced his hands on her shoulders, his grip just slightly firmer than necessary. "That's what I like to hear. Your work is setting Helix apart from the other corporations." He leaned down to kiss her cheek, his lips cold against her skin. "But remember, family appearances matter. The VitaCore board expects us to project stability."

  "Of course," she replied, maintaining the careful bance they'd established. "I'll make it up to the boys tomorrow."

  Marcus studied her for a moment, then nodded. "I've scheduled us to attend the annual corporate alliance renewal ceremony next week. All seven corporations will be represented."

  "I remember." Helena kept her expression neutral. The ceremony marked the anniversary of the day the corporate council had officially repced the Settlement Council as Terminus's governing body—a day that represented everything she was secretly working against.

  "I'll need a full report on Project Chrysalis for the board meeting tomorrow," Marcus continued, gncing around the b with casual interest that Helena knew was anything but casual.

  "It's nearly complete." She gestured to a data tablet on her desk. "I just need to finalize a few sections."

  After Marcus left, Helena let out a slow breath and returned to the neural patterns of her sister and Subject L7. Era had believed so completely in their vision for a better Terminus that she had volunteered for the experimental neural transfer that cost her life. Helena wouldn't let that sacrifice be in vain.

  She opened a hidden compartment in her desk and removed a small, worn book—an actual paper book, one of the few remaining on Terminus. The journal contained handwritten notes that would never be digitized, never be vulnerable to corporate monitoring systems.

  Helena wrote the date at the top of a fresh page:

  The twins are showing remarkable neural development. Alexander's strategic processing is exceeding all projections, and Elijah's empathic capabilities are developing in ways we never anticipated. Marcus sees only weapons being forged, but I see bridges being built.

  L7's development in Sector 17 continues to progress despite resource limitations. My contact reports she has already begun rudimentary technical training with their community engineer. Her neural architecture is integrating precisely as Era theorized it would.

  All three children, born on the same night, now five years old. The foundation is being id. Twenty years until the Game becomes mandatory for their age group. Twenty years to prepare them for their roles in dismantling the very system their father helped create.

  Helena closed the journal and returned it to its hiding pce. She then activated her neural interface and accessed the Helix Pharmaceuticals research library. Unlike the restricted Personal Libraries avaible to the public, corporate libraries contained vast stores of knowledge—knowledge that Helena had been secretly copying and modifying for years.

  She navigated to the historical archives, checking that her privacy protocols were active. The screen dispyed a document titled "Original Settlement Council Minutes - Final Session." Helena had discovered this file buried deep in restricted archives, one of many historical records that the corporations had attempted to erase.

  The document detailed how the democratic governance of the early colony had been systematically dismantled, repced by corporate control under the guise of "efficiency" and "resource management." She added encryption markers to specific sections, preparing them for eventual transfer to the shadow library she was building—knowledge that would someday help her sons and L7 understand the truth about Terminus.

  "Mommy?" a small voice called from the doorway.

  Helena quickly closed the file and turned to see Elijah standing there in his sleep clothes, his blond hair tousled and his blue eyes—so like hers rather than Marcus's colder gaze—filled with concern.

  "What are you doing up, sweetheart?" she asked, opening her arms as he ran to her.

  "Alex is having the dreams again," Elijah said as he climbed into her p. "He wouldn't let me tell Father."

  Helena felt her heart tighten. Alexander's "dreams" were likely an unforeseen side effect of the subtle neural enhancements she had incorporated into both boys' regur medical treatments—enhancements Marcus believed were simply health optimizations for his heirs.

  "Let's go see him, shall we?" She lifted Elijah into her arms, marveling at how intuitive he was, how deeply he felt his twin's distress.

  As they walked through the dimly lit corridors of the Voss family quarters, Helena thought of another child, miles away in the industrial wastend of Sector 17, who shared a birth date with her sons. A child who carried her sister's neural patterns, modified and enhanced to serve a purpose neither Marcus nor the corporate council could possibly comprehend.

  The three children bound together by birth and design, but separated by the very css system Helena had dedicated her life to undermining. Someday they would meet, and together they would finish what she and Era had started.

  "Don't worry," she whispered, as much to herself as to Elijah. "Everything will be alright."

  Elijah looked up at her with those knowing eyes that sometimes made Helena wonder if he understood far more than a seven-year-old should. "Promise?"

  "I promise," Helena said, sealing a commitment that would shape the destiny of not just her family, but all of Terminus.