The prediction came at 3:17 AM.
Sarah's monitors flared to life, bathing her office in urgent blue light. She hadn't left her workspace in twenty-six hours, her normally immaculate appearance showing subtle signs of strain. A few strands of black hair escaped her tight bun, and dark circles shadowed her eyes, barely concealed by makeup.
CRITICAL PROBABILITY EVENT
Subject: Walsh, Marcus
Location: Pioneer Square
Time Window: Immediate
Confidence: 99.97%
Her fingers flew across the keyboard, pulling up traffic cameras, weather patterns, infrastructure systems. The algorithms were screaming, probability curves spiking into red zones she'd never seen before.
Dr. Elizabeth Warner's words from their earlier conversation echoed in her mind: "The board hired you to improve predictive algorithms, not to play god." But as Sarah watched the patterns converge around Marcus Walsh's location, she knew she'd crossed that line long ago.
Marcus stood in a poorly lit alley behind Pioneer Square's oldest buildings, rain plastering his hair to his forehead. His breath formed small clouds in the cold air as he checked his phone's encryption status one last time.
"Your source is late," Kate Reynolds said through his earpiece. His research assistant was parked three blocks away, monitoring police frequencies from her beat-up Honda Civic. She'd been with him since the Tesla investigation, one of the few who understood why he couldn't let this story go.
"He'll come." Marcus shifted his weight, trying to ignore the way his old shoulder injury ached in the cold. "The PredictCore data he promised is worth the wait."
Kate's voice carried a note of concern he'd learned to recognize. "Marcus, something feels wrong. The police channels are too quiet."
The sound of footsteps echoing off wet brick made him turn. A figure emerged from the shadows – not his source, but a face he recognized from his Tesla investigation. His stomach dropped.
"Hello, Walsh," said James Morrison, former Tesla security chief, his scarred face twisted in a cruel smile. "Still chasing stories that aren't yours to tell?"
More footsteps. Three more men appeared, boxing him in. Marcus's mind raced, calculating odds, remembering Jenny's voice: "Stop trying to predict everything."
In her office at PredictCore Tower, Sarah's hands trembled as she accessed systems she'd promised herself she'd never touch again. Traffic lights, electrical grids, emergency response protocols – all the city's arteries at her fingertips.
The jade pendant at her throat seemed to grow heavier as she typed, its twin resting in a drawer beside Michael's last photo. Her brother had worn an identical pendant the day of his accident. The day the original GUARDIAN system had failed.
"I won't fail again," she whispered, her fingers dancing across keys like a pianist in the midst of a crucial symphony.
Marcus saw the punch coming but couldn't dodge in time. His back hit brick as Morrison's men closed in. His earpiece crackled with Kate's panicked voice: "Marcus! I'm calling the police—"
Then everything changed.
Every street light in Pioneer Square went dark. Car alarms erupted in synchronized chaos. Sprinkler systems in surrounding buildings activated simultaneously. In the confusion, Marcus saw what others didn't: patterns in the chaos, digital fingerprints he recognized from years ago.
His own code, evolved and perfected.
He slipped away in the darkness, his training from years of dangerous investigations taking over. As he ran, his hand brushed something that had fallen from Morrison's jacket – a jade pendant, identical to the one Jenny had worn.
Sarah watched through surveillance feeds as Marcus escaped, her screens showing his vital signs captured by nearby IoT devices: elevated heart rate, stress indicators high but within survivable ranges.
A message appeared on her screen:
The pendant. It wasn't a coincidence.
- M
Her reply was immediate:
Nothing ever is.
Meet me. Tomorrow. Cafe Analog.
- S
Dawn found Marcus in his apartment, Kate pacing behind him as he stared at his investigation boards. Every prediction, every prevented accident, every statistical anomaly – they weren't just patterns. They were proof.
"Look at this," he said, pulling up the pendant's image alongside old photos. "Jenny's pendant, Sarah's pendant, the one Morrison dropped – they're all identical. Chinese jade, specific carving pattern, all distributed within a six-month period before the accidents started."
Kate leaned closer, her investigator's instincts engaged. "Someone was marking targets?"
"Or protecting them." Marcus pulled up Sarah Chen's code on his main screen. "The question is, did she know when she took the job at PredictCore? When she modified my GUARDIAN protocols?"
His phone buzzed: an email from his editor.
Whatever you're working on, stop. Board says PredictCore story is dead.
Marcus touched the jade pendant, its surface cool against his fingers. "Kate, I need you to dig deeper into Morrison's connections. Something bigger is happening here."
"Bigger than predictive algorithms saving lives?" Kate's voice was skeptical.
"The algorithms aren't just saving lives," Marcus said softly. "They're choosing who to save."
His screens flickered – Sarah, watching, always watching. In the digital space between them, probabilities shifted like pieces on an invisible chessboard.
The rain continued falling outside, each drop following its predetermined path to earth. But now Marcus understood: some patterns weren't meant to be broken, only understood.
Tomorrow, he would meet Sarah Chen and finally ask the question that had haunted him since Jenny's death: When does protection become control? And who was really behind the jade pendants that connected their shared tragedies?
His fingers traced the edges of Jenny's photo as he added one final note to his board:
Project GUARDIAN wasn't terminated.
It was weaponized.