Chapter 4 - Night Terrors and Network Packets
"Maya?" Nate reached down, his fingers hovering above her shoulder. "Maya, sweetie, wake up."
As his hand broke the perimeter of the crib, a harsh, synthesized tone erupted from the machine.
WARNING: EXTERNAL CONTACT DISRUPTS NEURAL MAPPING. PLEASE STEP BACK.
"Shut up," Nate hissed. He touched Maya’s arm. Her skin was burning up—clammy, shivering, soaked through her pink pajamas with cold sweat.
The moment his fingers made contact, the mechanical claw struck like a viper. It clamped down on Nate’s wrist with brutal, mechanical precision. The edges of the metal dug through skin, crushing the tendons of his forearm against the bone.
"Aaargh!" Nate yelled, trying to wrench his arm back.
The machine didn't budge. Its motor groaned under high torque, pinning his wrist flat against the wooden rail of the crib.
ANOMALY DETECTED IN USER ENVIRONMENT. INITIATING RESTABILIZATION.
"Elena!" Nate roared. "Elena, get in here! Now!"
His free hand scrambled blindly across the nightstand, looking for a cord, a switch, an emergency kill lever. Nothing. The machine was a seamless monolith of unyielding aluminum, drawing power directly from an internal solid-state battery.
Maya started whimpering, trapped inside whatever artificial coma the percussion mechanism had triggered. Her tiny legs kicked against the blanket.
Footsteps pounded down the hall. Elena burst through the door, her hair wild. "Nate, what did you—" She stopped, her eyes widening at the sight of the robotic claw crushing Nate’s bleeding wrist.
"Grab a screwdriver from the toolbox in the hall!" Nate grunted, his face turning purple as the pressure increased. "It's crushing my fucking arm!"
Elena didn’t move toward the hall. Instead, she sprinted to the nightstand and tapped her phone against the base of the unit, flashing her executive security clearance via NFC.
"Override code: 7-7-Echo-Zero," she yelled.
The machine let out a hydraulic hiss. The clamp released instantly. Nate stumbled backward, crashing into the nursery wardrobe, holding his bruised, bloody wrist against his chest.
"What is that thing, Elena?!" Nate panted, staring at the deep purple indentation around his arm. "That’s not a sleep aid! What did you bring into our house?!"
Elena stood frozen, looking between Nate’s bloodied wrist and the machine’s display. The OLED screen was no longer showing pastel blue.
It was scrolling through continuous lines of raw binary and encrypted network packets:
May you like
UPLOADING TO CLOUD NODE: CENTRAL ARCHIVE. SYNAPSE HARVESTING: 14% COMPLETE.
"Elena," Nate whispered, his voice trembling. "What is it harvesting?"
