I make my way toward CDC-4 for morning nutrition. The facility's corridors buzz with early activity, independents moving between quarters and common areas, sharing information through coded phrases and subtle gestures.

  CDC-4 is already crowded when I arrive, the line for nutrition allocation stretching toward the entrance. The stale air carries the bland smell of nutritional paste mixed with the body odor of too many enhanced humans in too confined a space. I take my place in line, studying the room's dynamics while waiting.

  Marcus's resistance faction occupies their usual tables near the exit, strategic positioning for quick departure. They watch me with obvious interest, probably wondering about my decision regarding their protection offer. Shatter's pragmatists control the central area, their territorial presence maintained through subtle intimidation rather than explicit threats.

  When I reach the dispenser, the system scans my palm and announces: "Independent Asset 7249. Standard allocation, minus 22% sponsor enhancement factor. Integration candidacy supplements available. Accept or decline?"

  "Decline," I respond firmly. No way I'm consuming whatever they're putting in those supplements. The machine dispenses standard nutritional paste without the offered additions.

  I find an unoccupied table near the wall, choosing visible neutrality over faction alignment. As I force down the bland paste, I notice several facility staff entering CDC-4. One carries a tablet displaying what appears to be neural development metrics, possibly reviewing candidate data for the Integration Program.

  The staff member's gaze passes over me without particular interest, maybe an indication that the instabilities I've introduced have made me less appealing?

  I'm halfway through my meal when Volt approaches, electrical energy crackling subtly around her fingers. "Time's running out on your consideration period," she says without preamble. "Marcus expected you last night."

  "Still evaluating options," I reply, continuing to eat without interruption.

  Volt creates a small electromagnetic bubble around our conversation, just enough disruption to mask our words from immediate surveillance. "There are no options beyond faction protection or Integration processing. That's the reality of this place."

  I shrug, maintaining noncommittal engagement. "Reality's complicated."

  Her eyes narrow, electricity intensifying around her hands with frustration. "You weren't at your quarters during rest period. Tunnels can be dangerous territory for unaffiliated assets."

  So they were watching my movements, tracking my meeting with Helena without knowing its content. The faction surveillance system works alongside facility monitoring, creating overlapping layers of observation.

  "Needed thinking space," I respond vaguely.

  The electromagnetic field dissipates as a facility staff member walks nearby. Volt gives me one final meaningful look before returning to the resistance tables, clearly reporting my continued indecision to Marcus.

  As I finish my nutritional paste, I consider the factions' persistent recruitment efforts. Their worldview allows only two possibilities, alignment with established groups or submission to facility administration. The concept of genuine independence, not just classification status but actual autonomy, seems foreign to their understanding.

  I dispose of my empty container and head toward Training Facility 9, ready to implement the next phase of my strategy. Today's training session will focus on raw force over precision, emphasizing power without control. I'll introduce instability in my technique, making it appear as though I'm struggling to maintain finesse, showing promise but lacking refinement.

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  Today's training session is deliberately unrefined. I focus on raw power rather than controlled application, letting bursts of force appear unchecked, as if my abilities are growing faster than my ability to manage them. Each strike, each movement, is exaggerated, giving the impression of potential without refinement, a fighter still struggling with balance and precision. It’s growth, but in the wrong direction, creating the illusion of progress while keeping my true capabilities concealed.

  After training I head toward Agricultural Sector 2. The corridors have filled with independents moving between assignments, their conversations creating background noise that helps mask individual movements.

  When I reach Agricultural Sector 2, the palm scanner pulses green as I press my hand against it. The door slides open to reveal the familiar expansive hydroponics facility with its rows of plants growing under specialized lighting. The humid, oxygen-rich air feels almost pleasant compared to the recycled atmosphere of the corridors.

  I spot Desta at our usual workstation, her movements precise and methodical as she calibrates nutrient flow rates. The brown coverall of Null classification hangs loosely on her frame, a constant visual reminder of her deliberate containment by the facility.

  "Independent," she acknowledges with a slight nod as I approach, maintaining the formal address for benefit of monitoring systems.

  "Desta," I respond.

  We begin our work on the distribution nodes, maintaining the appearance of routine maintenance while establishing our revised cover story. I ask technical questions about system operations that would benefit telekinetic application, while she provides insights that could legitimately improve ability precision. The performance optimization narrative builds naturally through these exchanges.

  When we position ourselves behind a vertical growing platform, partially shielded from direct surveillance she whispers without looking at me. "Ready for next session when position allows."

  We wait for optimal positioning, continuing our legitimate maintenance work until we reach a nutrient distribution panel located in a surveillance blind spot. The dense vegetation of the growing platform provides additional visual cover while we pretend to examine complex system components.

  I shield her from direct line of sight with the nearest camera, extending my telekinetic awareness with carefully controlled precision. The containment field forms around us, a microscopically thin bubble that keeps the energy from radiating outward.

  Within this protected workspace, I focus on her neural architecture, specifically targeting the communication pathways that facilitate system interface. Building on our previous session, I continue bypassing synthetic blockers rather than removing them, creating neural bridges that circumvent facility suppression.

  The work proceeds more efficiently than before, my rested mind maintaining sharper focus on the delicate cellular manipulation. Desta's breathing changes slightly as she experiences the repair work.

  "Increased clarity," she whispers. "Can sense system architecture more distinctly. Beginning to perceive data flows beyond immediate environment."

  I continue creating neural bridges across damaged pathways, maintaining careful energy discipline while encouraging new connections to form. The work remains challenging but feels more natural with each session, my precision improving through practical application.

  After completing this phase of repair, I gradually withdraw my telekinetic awareness while maintaining the containment field until fully disengaged. When I finally release the field, a quick scan confirms no change in surveillance patterns, our work remains undetected.

  "Flow rate optimization complete," I announce at normal volume for any audio monitoring. "Distribution efficiency increased by 4.1 percent."

  Desta makes a notation on her work tablet. "Recalibration successful. Proceed to next distribution node."

  As we move to the next station, she positions herself close enough to speak without being overheard. "Significant improvement. Can access local environmental systems now. Limited read capability, no control functions yet."

  "Progress," I confirm quietly. "Each session builds on previous repair work. System interface functioning while manipulation remains suppressed, perfect for information gathering without triggering security alerts."

  We continue our assigned maintenance, the legitimate work providing cover for our actual collaboration. The performance optimization narrative establishes visible interaction patterns that satisfy facility monitoring while concealing our true purposes.

  With me developing in the wrong direction, administrative interest should decrease, providing crucial space for both my neural camouflage strategy and Desta's repair work to advance without drawing attention from Integration or faction politics.