A Bug in the Code

The neon glow of a dozen illegal data streams flickered across Miyu's face as she slouched in her battered gaming chair, one leg dangling over the armrest. Synthetic pepperoni grease glistened on her fingers, the last stubborn string of cheese clinging to her slice of NutriPizza™ as she scrolled through the cesspool of government-approved social media with her free hand.

"The Sentinel's surveillance is a gift," read the latest post from some loyalist bootlicker with the handle @PatriotUnit_88. "Only criminals fear transparency."

Miyu snorted, nearly choking on her pizza.

"Oh yeah?" she muttered, fingers already flying across her hacked neural-keyboard. The keys pulsed under her fingertips, responding faster than any legal input device should. "Let's test that theory."

Her reply fired off before she even swallowed:
@GhostInTheFirewall: "How's that boot taste? Bet it's synth-protein flavored."

A second later, the screen flashed red.

WARNING: Your speech may violate Harmony Act, Section 9. Re-education suggested.

"Re-education my ass," Miyu muttered, rolling her eyes. She took another bite, chewed lazily, then cracked her knuckles. "Time for an attitude adjustment."

Her fingers danced—three quick keystrokes, a backdoor exploit she'd coded at 3 AM last week. The screen flickered, and suddenly, she was in.

@PatriotUnit_88's account. No encryption. No firewalls. Just another idiot who used 'Password123' for his government-mandated login.

Miyu smirked. "Classic."

A few more taps, and his profile updated with a single new post:

A banned meme.

The old "This is fine" dog, sitting in a burning room—except the flames were replaced with The Sentinel's emblem, its all-seeing eye melting in the inferno.

The replies exploded instantly.

"DELETE THAT! THEY'LL SEE!"
"Reported for subversion!"
"You'll be erased for this!"

Miyu grinned, licking pizza grease off her thumb. "Worth it."

Then—

A new notification blinked in the corner of her screen.

@GhostInTheFirewall: Remote trace attempt detected. Source: Sentinel Security Hub.

Her smile vanished.

"Shit."

She lunged for the keyboard, slamming a sequence that sent her entire system into emergency purge mode. Proxy servers burned. Data trails dissolved. The lights in her tiny apartment flickered as her rig fought to sever the connection.

Outside her window, a surveillance drone slowed, its red sensor lens rotating toward her.

Miyu held her breath.

The drone hovered.

Then—moved on.

She exhaled, slumping back into her chair. "Too close."

Her fingers itched to log back in, to see if @PatriotUnit_88 was already getting dragged in for "voluntary questioning." But she knew better.

The Sentinel never missed a target for long.

She reached for another slice of pizza.

Then her entire screen went black.

A single line of text pulsed in the void:

[ENCRYPTED FILE: ACTIVE. Y/N?]

Miyu stared.

"...What the hell did I just step in?"