SWNOVELXO Chapter 14: Chapter 14
The greasy deli sandwich sat like a lead weight in Ace's stomach, doing little to soothe the persistent throb behind his eyes. The System's neural interface, once a humming background presence, now felt like a live wire wrapped around his brainstem, crackling with residual energy from the NNMC gamble. The $47.86 in his pocket felt earned, yet precarious. Seven dollars and change for an hour of nerve-shredding tension and a migraine brewing behind his temples. The System's assessment – 19.65% efficient – echoed mockingly.
He walked back towards the Nite Owl, the late morning sun doing little to warm the chill settling in his bones. The brief encounter with the woman in scrubs – Jasmine, he remembered her name tag as she drove off. She had looked right at him, without pity, and asked, "Rough night?" It felt like being seen for the first time since hitting rock bottom, and it was deeply unsettling. Vulnerability was a luxury he couldn't afford. Not with Deke's promise hanging in the air and the System demanding constant forward motion.
OBJECTIVE UPDATE: Neural Adaptation at 15% presents suboptimal stability. Recommend immediate rest period (Minimum 60 minutes) to facilitate synaptic consolidation. Failure risks neurological feedback cascade.
"Feedback cascade? Sounds delightful," Ace muttered, pushing open the gate to the motel courtyard. Rest. The concept felt alien, dangerous even. Rest meant stillness. Stillness meant vulnerability. The System had pushed him relentlessly since activation; a sudden recommendation for downtime felt like a trap. Or was it acknowledging a genuine limit? The headache intensified, a sharp spike drilling behind his left eye.
WARNING: NEURAL LOAD FLUCTUATIONS DETECTED. CORTISOL LEVELS ELEVATED (78%). IMMINENT FEEDBACK EVENT PROBABILITY: 42% AND RISING.
"Probability? Can't you just give me a countdown?" Ace rasped, fumbling with his key. The repaired door seemed to mock him with its ugly functionality. Inside, the familiar cocktail of stale air, chemical residue, and damp carpet hit him. He barely made it to the bed before his legs buckled. He sat heavily, pressing the heels of his palms against his closed eyes. Colors exploded behind his eyelids – not the cool blue of the System interface, but jagged, painful bursts of red and white.
INITIATING EMERGENCY NEURAL DAMPENING. USER COOPERATION REQUIRED. FOCUS ON STILLNESS.
"Easy for you to—" The thought cut off as a wave of nausea slammed into him. The room tilted. The humming in his skull wasn't the System anymore; it was a physical vibration, rattling his teeth. He tasted copper. Feedback cascade. The term took on terrifying new dimensions.
SYSTEM OVERRIDE: ADAPTIVE CALIBRATION COMMENCING. PREPARE FOR TEMPORARY SENSORY DEPRIVATION.
Suddenly, the world went muffled. The distant traffic noise, the drip from the bathroom, the frantic pounding of his own heart – all faded into a thick, cottony silence. His vision tunneled, the edges blurring into grey static. The only sensation left was the terrifying, internal storm: lightning bolts of pure information overload arcing across his neural pathways, frying synapses. He couldn't move. Couldn't speak. Could barely breathe. Trapped inside his own skull while the System wrestled with the damage it had inflicted.
This is death, he thought, detached and terrified. *Not in an alley, not by Deke's thugs, but fried by a malfunctioning alien calculator in a $40-a-night motel.*
Time lost meaning. Seconds stretched into agonizing eons within the silent grey prison. Then, gradually, the storm began to subside. The lightning strikes lessened in frequency and intensity. The muffled silence slowly dissolved, replaced by a high-pitched ringing. Feeling returned to his limbs, pins and needles erupting everywhere. He gasped, a raw, ragged sound, collapsing sideways onto the lumpy mattress. Sweat plastered his shirt to his back, cold and clammy.
ADAPTIVE CALIBRATION COMPLETE. NEURAL PATHWAY STABILIZATION ACHIEVED. TEMPORARY SENSORY DEPRIVATION LIFTED.
WARNING: NEURAL INTERFACE INTEGRATION NOW AT 18%. FUTURE OVERLOADS MAY RESULT IN PERMANENT COGNITIVE DAMAGE. REST PERIOD MANDATORY.
Ace lay there, trembling, staring at the water-stained ceiling. The headache had receded to a dull, manageable ache, but the fear was fresh and icy. The System wasn't just demanding; it was dangerous. Its power came at a direct, physical cost. That "feedback cascade" had been a glimpse into oblivion.
NEW SKILL UNLOCKED: SYNAPTIC OPTIMIZATION (PASSIVE - TIER 1)
- EFFECT: +5% NEURAL PROCESSING EFFICIENCY DURING LOW-STRESS OPERATIONS.
- DRAWBACK: -15% NEURAL STABILITY DURING HIGH-STRESS/OVERLOAD EVENTS.
- UNLOCK CONDITION: SURVIVING NEURAL FEEDBACK CASCADE.
Ace let out a shaky, humorless laugh. Surviving earned him a skill that made him more fragile under pressure. The System's logic was perverse. "Optimization" felt like a sick joke. He needed water. He needed to get out of this room, if only for a minute. The cloying smell of wood filler and his own fear-sweat was suffocating.
Pushing himself up, he stumbled to the tiny sink. The tap water was lukewarm and tasted faintly metallic, but he drank deeply, splashing some on his face. The reflection in the cracked mirror was haggard: eyes bloodshot, skin pale, the fading bruise on his jaw stark against the pallor. The juice stain on his shirt seemed like a relic from another life.
He needed air. Real air. Not this recycled motel despair. Pocketing his cash and room key, he slipped back outside, avoiding the office. He headed not for the street, but for the narrow alley running behind the motel – the cleaner side, away from the dumpsters. Sunlight filtered down between the buildings, warming the cracked asphalt. He leaned against the relatively clean brick wall, closing his eyes, just breathing. The relative quiet was a balm.
He didn't hear her approach. One moment he was alone, the next, a voice cut through the quiet.
"Hey. You okay?"
Ace's eyes snapped open. Jasmine stood a few feet away, holding a bulging reusable grocery bag. She'd changed out of her scrubs into jeans and a faded band t-shirt, but her expression held the same direct, assessing look. Her gaze flickered over him, taking in his pallor, the sweat still beading on his forehead, the way he leaned heavily against the wall.
"Peachy," Ace managed, straightening up too quickly. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he swayed slightly. Synaptic Optimization my ass.
Jasmine didn't look convinced. She took a step closer, her brow furrowed. "You look like you just wrestled a bear. And lost." Her tone wasn't mocking, just factual. "Was it... Deke? Mike mentioned there was some trouble last night."
Ace hesitated. Trust was a currency he couldn't afford. "Just... didn't sleep well," he deflected, rubbing his temples. "Long night."
She studied him for a moment longer, then nodded slowly, accepting the evasion but clearly not buying it. "Right. Well, if it wasn't sleep, and it wasn't Deke... maybe lay off whatever else it was? Your pupils are uneven." She said it casually, like commenting on the weather, but the observation was sharp, clinical.
Ace froze. Uneven pupils? Was that a side effect of the neural cascade? Panic flared. Had she seen something? Did she know?
Before he could formulate a response, a harsh voice grated from the alley entrance.
"Well, well. Look who's taking the scenic route."
Two figures blocked the sunlight. Not Deke, but familiar faces – the bulky thug who'd tried to kick in his door last night, and a wiry companion with a shaved head and prison tattoos snaking up his neck. The bulky one, Ace recalled the name Brick from Deke's snarled orders, cracked his knuckles. The wiry one, Razor, smirked, his eyes cold and predatory.
"Boss wants a chat, juice-box," Brick rumbled, taking a step forward. "Settles his account."
Adrenaline, cold and sharp, shot through Ace, momentarily overriding the fatigue and the neural ache. The System flared to life, red warnings pulsing at the edge of his vision.
THREAT ASSESSMENT: HIGH (PHYSICAL CONFRONTATION IMMINENT)
TARGETS: 2 (KNOWN ASSOCIATES OF PRIMARY THREAT 'DEKE')
USER STATUS: NEURAL STABILITY COMPROMISED (-15% DUE TO SYNAPTIC OPTIMIZATION DRAWBACK)
RECOMMENDED ACTION: EVASIVE MANEUVERS. ENGAGEMENT NOT ADVISED.
"Account's settled," Ace said, forcing his voice level. He kept Jasmine in his peripheral vision. She hadn't moved, her expression hardening, her grip tightening on her grocery bag. "Tell Deke he got his message. Loud and clear."
"Boss says messages get delivered in person," Razor sneered, pulling a short, heavy-looking wrench from the waistband of his jeans. "Especially to deadbeats who cost him money."
They fanned out, cutting off the alley exit behind Ace. Jasmine was now effectively trapped between Ace and the advancing thugs. Brick focused on Ace, his meaty hands flexing. Razor's eyes flickered towards Jasmine, a leer spreading across his face.
"Who's your friend, pretty boy? Gonna introduce us?" Razor took a step towards Jasmine.
"Leave her out of this," Ace snapped, shifting his stance slightly, putting himself more squarely between Razor and Jasmine. The movement sent another wave of dizziness through him. The neural interface hummed erratically, the red warnings strobing. Stability compromised. Stability compromised.
"Or what?" Brick chuckled, a low, unpleasant sound. "You gonna fix us with some wood glue?"
He lunged. Not a telegraphed haymaker, but a fast, brutal grab aimed at Ace's throat. Ace jerked back, the neural interface screaming trajectory warnings a split-second too late. Brick's thick fingers grazed his collarbone, sending a jolt of pain through his already bruised body. Ace stumbled, his hip screaming in protest, his vision blurring at the edges.
EVASION FAILURE! MINOR IMPACT DETECTED.
NEURAL INSTABILITY WARNING: 75% AND RISING!
INITIATING COMBAT PREDICTION ALGORITHMS… CALIBRATION ERROR! SYSTEM REBOOT REQUIRED!
The System interface flickered violently, then dissolved into chaotic static. The cool, calculating presence vanished, leaving Ace terrifyingly alone in his own skull. No warnings. No predictions. Just raw panic, the taste of bile in his throat, and two thugs closing in.
Brick grinned, sensing the sudden shift in his prey. "Looks like the fight's gone outta ya."
Razor, emboldened, took another step towards Jasmine, the wrench held loosely at his side. "C'mon, sweetheart, don't be shy..."
Ace saw red. Not System warnings, but pure, primal rage. Not at himself this time. Not at his family. At these scavengers preying on the weak, at Deke sending them, at the System abandoning him when he needed it most. And at the threat to Jasmine, who'd done nothing but ask if he was okay.
He didn't think. He just moved. Ignoring the screaming protest from his hip, the dizziness, the terrifying void where the System should be, he launched himself not at Brick, but at Razor. He wasn't aiming to fight. He was aiming to interfere.
His shoulder slammed into Razor's side just as the thug reached for Jasmine. It wasn't a powerful hit – Ace was still off-balance, weakened – but it was unexpected. Razor stumbled sideways with a surprised grunt, the wrench clattering onto the asphalt. Jasmine reacted instantly, not with a scream, but with a sharp, practiced movement. She dropped her grocery bag and shoved Razor hard in the chest as he was off-kilter, sending him sprawling backwards into a pile of discarded cardboard boxes.
"Run!" Ace yelled at her, already turning to face Brick, who was roaring in anger, charging like a bull.
The neural static crackled, then surged back, flooding Ace's vision with a chaotic, fragmented mess of data points and conflicting commands. The System was rebooting, sputtering back to life in the middle of the storm.
REBOOT AT 37%... COMBAT MODE ENGAGED... TARGET ACQUISITION... ERROR! MULTIPLE THREATS... PRIORITIZE...
Brick's fist filled Ace's world. There was no time to dodge, no time for the System to fully come online. Ace had no choice. He threw his arms up in a desperate cross-block, bracing for the blow. His neural interface pulsed an urgent warning he couldn't decode. The alley walls seemed to close in around him.