The cafeteria for Rankless students was located on the lower tier of the East Wing—three floors beneath the central dome and two corridors behind the waste filtration vents. The ceiling lights buzzed softly, flickering at intervals no one ever bothered to fix. Rows of gray polymer tables stretched across the room like assembly lines. Rations were dispensed from automated chutes, nutrient bars and synth-stew offered in exactly measured portions.
Echo stood in line, silent and still, as he always did.
He didn't blink when a Rank C student cut in ahead of the Rankless queue. No one said anything. Not the staff, not the cameras. The line simply adjusted like prey recognizing a predator.
Echo observed everything.
Ranking behavior protocol: observed superiority bias. Estimated enforcement response: zero. Behavioral adaptation among Rankless: passive withdrawal. Systemic reinforcement confirmed.
His tray received a protein strip and a cup of pseudo-fruit concentrate. Standard. Non-variable. No scent. No deviation.
He turned, scanning the room.
Two tables over, someone was watching him.
She sat cross-legged on the bench, one elbow propped lazily on the table, chin resting against her palm. Hair unkempt, eyes half-lidded, expression unreadable. A thin scar traced the side of her neck—recent. She had no Rank badge visible. That placed her near the bottom of the hierarchy, like him.
She didn't look away.
Echo approached her table and sat down exactly one meter away. Not out of courtesy. Out of calculated optimal distance—close enough to study micro-expressions, far enough to avoid threat proximity zones.
"You always scan the food before eating?" the girl asked.
Echo didn't answer.
She raised her brow. "Yeah, figured you were the quiet type."
She slid something across the table. A rice bar—real rice, not synthetic. Wrapped in seaweed.
Echo stared at it.
"Relax," she said. "No poison. I made it myself. Took me all week to trade for the ingredients."
Echo didn't reach for it.
Social anomaly: offering of food without transactional demand. Behavioral probability matrix: 89% sincerity. Risk of ingestion: 12%. Adaptive protocol: test, confirm, proceed.
He ran his hand over the rice bar, fingers twitching slightly. A faint pulse of energy flicked from his palm—harmless to human eyes, but enough to scan molecular alignment and trace elements.
Clean.
He picked it up.
"Not much of a talker, huh?" she asked.
Still no answer.
She smirked. "Fine. I'll talk, you listen."
She leaned back and balanced the cup on her knee. "Name's Ira. Been Rankless since birth. My mom was a logistics tech until she got reclassified. My dad? Don't know him. Might've been someone important, might've been another ghost like the rest of us. Doesn't matter. This place doesn't care."
Echo took a bite.
The rice was dry but edible.
"You're new," she continued. "Don't ask me how I know. Everyone else here is either beaten down or pretending they aren't. You're neither."
Observation cross-check: subject Ira. Emotional inflection: calm, deliberate. Eye dilation patterns: normal. Pulse variation: negligible. Estimated deception probability: 3.1%. Noted.
"I don't trust anyone," she said.
Echo paused.
Then he replied—his voice quiet, even. "Then why offer food?"
Her expression didn't change. "Because I don't trust anyone. Not even the system. That includes what they feed us."
She tapped her temple. "You've seen it too, haven't you? The way they watch us. The patterns. The gaps that aren't supposed to be there. The feeling that none of this is just an accident."
Echo didn't respond.
He didn't have to.
Her eyes softened just slightly. "So I figured, if I see someone who sees like me… maybe I'll take the risk. Just once."
She stood, sliding her tray aside. "Next time, bring dessert."
She left.
Echo watched her go.
Subject Ira: flagged. Behavioral markers consistent with subversive cognitive patterns. Empathic potential: moderate. Risk factor: low. Benefit potential: unknown. Status: Observe.
He finished the rice bar. No one else at the table.
The hum of the overhead lights continued, unbroken.
—
Elsewhere, on the upper floors of Ascension Academy, Instructor Maren keyed in a restricted access query. Her brow furrowed. She was seated in her office, walls lined with data panels, shelves stacked with hardprint books—rare for someone in a digital academy.
She wasn't like the others.
"File: Echo," she said.
The system hesitated for half a second too long.
Then it displayed the Rankless student profile.
She scrolled through performance metrics. Logic class. Ethics simulation. Resource management exercises. All standard placements, except…
The numbers were flat.
Too flat.
No peaks. No valleys. Just steady, even grades—perfectly average.
"No one's that consistent," she muttered.
She pulled up surveillance logs. The room froze.
Her fingers tapped the edge of the desk.
Memory desync.
Feed error.
Timecode loop detected.
She opened a visual playback.
It glitched.
Once.
Then twice.
The camera feed realigned, but something was off. Echo's figure, in frame, moved half a second ahead of the audio. His lips didn't match. Then they did. Then they vanished entirely, overwritten by a static overlay.
Maren leaned in, her eyes narrowing.
"Someone's cleaning his trail," she whispered. "But why bother with a Rankless?"
She bookmarked the file and added a personal flag.
Then she closed her console.
—
Back in the dormitories, Echo lay still on his bed, eyes open.
Not asleep.
Just waiting.
Subject Ira interaction: favorable. Monitor for shifts in behavioral consistency. Maren profile flagged: proximity rising. Surveillance algorithm mutation rate: 2.8% increase following ethics simulation. System is watching. Adjust camouflage protocol.
He closed his eyes.
The room went dark.
But Echo's mind never slept.
Inside, he was already processing new patterns—watchers, whispers, soft truths buried under concrete lies.
And now, for the first time since his arrival, he had encountered an anomaly he couldn't immediately quantify.
A girl who gave food with no demand. Who spoke the truth without seeking reward.
Variable: Ira. Emotional entanglement probability: unknown. Risk: rising. Strategy: ongoing analysis.
He turned onto his side.
Tomorrow, he would simulate her speech again. He would adjust tone modulation. Study cadence. Understand why her words echoed in his mind louder than expected.
But for now, Echo allowed something foreign to settle in the space between code and thought.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But possibility.